A/N: This fic is dedicated to my good friend Cat. She requested a neighbors-to-lovers fic that involved (who would have guessed) a cat! This fic will be following the prompts of Day 11 of SHMonth2024: Lost & Found / Color & Grayscale.
Please enjoy!
Aka - #E14848
There's a sign taped to the stair posts leading up to the second floor of Sasuke's apartment building.
It has the following:
1) A photo of a black cat with golden eyes and a pink, studded collar.
2) In Japanese: LOST
3) A room number: 206
4) In English (for some strange reason): a name Sasuke doesn't know how to say in foreign tongue.
He doesn't give it much thought. Lost pet posters come and go this neighborhood on the regular — especially his building. Doors with janky locks. Elders who forget to shut their windows. School kids not paying enough attention to their leashes as they bop their heads to whatever American song they're listening to on their Walkman. Some are found. Some aren't. Sasuke doesn't keep up. Not his pets, not his business.
But when he's locking his bike to the rack next to the stairs, Naruto takes the initiative to yank the poster off the wooden post. He squints and turns the torn paper this way and that, as if the different angles will help in any way. Uzumaki Naruto has a way of being a nosy bastard. He's the kind to get concerned with the missing pets of a neighborhood he doesn't even live in — not even close — he lives three stations over from the nearest train!
"Haaa," he tries. "Huuuhm. Hum? Shit. All those years of learning English, and I can't even remember the alphabet."
Sasuke kisses the backs of his teeth and tosses his backpack over his shoulder. College textbooks (if you're lucky) aren't as bulky as the high school ones. Sometimes they're thin. Sometimes they have those soft, plastic covers that you can draw on with dry eraser. The math books are the ones you want to look out for. Massive. Heavy. Hardcovers. One of them is on his desk in his room.
"Leave it alone," he mutters to Naruto as he marches up the stairs.
"Ha something. Or Huh."
Usually, Sasuke is thankful for the days where he doesn't have to lug that big textbook up and down from his place. Right now, however, he's wishing he had it so he can throw it at Naruto's stupid head.
"If you want to practice your English, you can stay out here."
"Wait — shit, wait!" Naruto hobbles after him, fisting the missing cat poster until it's nothing but a crushed mess of paper. Sasuke would love to see the face of whoever took the time to print and tape those posters around, only to see them so haphazardly handled by lots who don't even live in the building. "Don't you have any care? It's a missing cat. Look!"
Naruto unfurls the crumpled paper to push the picture of the cat in Sasuke's face. He frowns and fingers his pockets for his keys.
"Sure," Sasuke says.
"Some poor thing is probably worried to death about him. Her. Whatever."
"Should've taken better care of it, then." He pulls out his key ring, twirling it around his fingers as he goes down the hallway to his door. 205. They have to pass 206 on the way. Sasuke doesn't bat an eye, but Naruto stares, face falling. "Don't stand in front. It's rude."
Naruto takes a big step closer to his door as Sasuke pushes the key in the lock. "Heartless bastard."
"Hm."
"If only I could figure out the name — oi, you kept some of our English books, right? If I know how to say it, then I can call for it! You think it'll know its name?"
Sasuke rolls his eyes, thinking, If the name is that important, then they should have written it in Kanji. But he keeps his mouth shut (something Naruto has no ability in doing) and unlocks his door. They shuffle inside, toeing off their sneakers. Naruto's buzzing voice keeps trying to pronounce the name. Haaam. Huhm. Hyam. Ham? Maybe it would be wise to skip the study session. The bastard has a way of grating against Sasuke's tepid patience, and they're already at a dangerous low before they can even get the slippers on. He gets his on, then steps up onto the floor and opens the entrance closet to throw Naruto his own pair.
"They got weird letters," Naruto says. "Those Americans."
"Not just the Americans," Sasuke reminds him in a voice brimmed with annoyance. Half the world uses that alphabet. Americans. The French. Germans. Brazilians.
"This one is just a line." Naruto taps rapidly at the paper as he steps up onto the floor. "And, y'know, they change, too. Big ones and small ones. What did they call it again? Capital and —"
Having enough, Sasuke rotates on his feet and makes his way to his desk, where the heavy Pre-Calc textbook sits and waits to be used. And used it will be — against the skull of an annoying, stupid idiot.
"Naruto," he grits, grabbing it, "if you don't want to study, then leav—"
When he turns again, he sees something strange by his bed. On it, really. Sasuke is not a materialistic kind of person. He doesn't need to decorate his room with all sorts of useless aesthetics. A pillow. Plain sheets. A navy comforter. That's all he needs.
But, for some reason, there's something more today.
He stops, and he blinks, and he looks over.
The dark fuzz of something that caught his peripheral sharpens in his focused gaze, and he sees, sat properly on his bed, as if it belonged there — a cat. A black cat. With golden eyes and a pink, studded collar around its neck.
Behind the cat, the bedroom window (left open accidentally after Sasuke opened it for fresh air that morning) streams sunlight onto its fur. Naruto comes next to Sasuke, holds up the missing cat poster, and compares.
"Well," he hums. "Mystery solved."
...
Now Sasuke stands in front of Room 206. It's plain and a middle gray, with a copper peephole to match its smooth knob. It's not uncommon to see neighbors out and about the place, walking their dogs or coming back from groceries or simply enjoying the nice weather. Sometimes, you meet them in the middle of the hallway, and you might kindly exchange names along with a crowd of apologies as you try to pass one another. That's how things are here. In the American movies Naruto likes to plug into his VHS player, neighborhoods are different. Fancy cars. Big yards. If you see your neighbor, you yell and wave your hands and make all this commotion. If Sasuke ever acted like that, his mother would slap the backs of his hands — but, then again, you can't always believe what the movies say.
In the four months Sasuke's been living here, he's met a handful of people. Some of the older ladies on the lower floor. A family on the backend of the building. He hasn't met the mysterious tenant in Room 206. Hasn't even seen them, yet alone shared a word with them. They're quiet enough to not make enough noise to seep through the thin walls, and that's good enough for him. He's not a people person. He doesn't want to bother with them.
But now . . . he has to.
Their missing cat has made itself at home on his bed.
He'll have to drop by the store down the block to get a lint roller.
Ugh.
One thing at a time, Sasuke.
He lifts his hand, sighs, and knocks against the door.
It's healthy to meet at least one new person a week. That's what Itachi tells him; that older brother of his who makes everything perfect and easy. Handsome face. Charming tongue. Sasuke would like to tell him he hasn't met anyone new in twenty days. What kind of face would his dear brother make? Maybe he'll stop ignoring Sasuke's calls.
A quiet padding comes to the door. The door knob twists, and eventually, it opens just enough for half the face of a woman to peek at him.
There's . . . something about that face.
It's the kind that makes him want to ask "why the hell did you put your cat's name in English", which is beyond rude, probably bordering on mean. It makes him want to stand there in the middle of the hallway and tell her no one in this part of Japan is going to know how to read English. Kyoto, maybe. Tokyo. High-tourist cities. Not here.
Are you stupid? he might ask.
Are you trying to show off?
And someone might come by, and instead of bowing his head in apology, he'll glare, and he'll sneer.
"Just walk around!" he'll yell. "It's plenty big for both of us."
The woman opens the door a little more. Her face is pink, and her eyes are bright. Light-colored.
"O . . . Ohayou?" she says.
Sasuke blinks, looking over his shoulder. The sun is hovering over the roof of the building across the street from them. In a few minutes, it'll start to lower behind it, until it's completely hidden.
"It's not even close to morning," he blurts, bites his tongue, and shakes his head. "Nevermind. Your cat's in my room."
The woman stares. Her eyes are big. They sort of look at him like she's not sure what he is.
Human, obviously, he thinks.
"I didn't steal it. I left my window open, and I guess it snuck in."
He just delivered the news that any missing pet owner hopes to hear . . . so why isn't she doing anything? She's just standing there. The door is barely open, and her face is getting more and more red. Sometimes, when he's talking to the old ladies downstairs, he has to talk a little slow for their hearing. But this girl looks his age. Her ears should be fine.
What the hell.
Thankfully, before Sasuke does something he regrets, Naruto comes out of his place, cat in arms, rubbing its head into Naruto's chin. Leave it to that idiot for making friends with the neighbor's cat in less than five minutes. Immediately, the lady's face lifts, eyes sparking. She gasps, then sputters on her own breath as her hands reach out. Naruto's boyish laugh grates Sasuke's nerves as he hands her the cat.
"Theeere you go!" he says. "Good and safe!"
"A-Arigatou!" Her pink lips kiss the cat's head, and she says it again. "Arigatou."
A meaningful, yet casual flutter of thanks. It throws Naruto for a loop. He scratches the back of his neck, then gives Sasuke a look.
You heard that too, right? his eyes ask.
Sasuke nods, and he's beginning to think he understands what's going on here.
"She speaks English," he says.
Naruto's puzzled expression doesn't disappear from the revelation. "Huh?"
The woman turns to coax the cat into the apartment. Once it's safely inside, she lifts and looks at the both of them, smile friendly and grateful, but oblivious. This whole time, she hasn't had a clue about what he's been saying.
"English?" Sasuke asks in foreign tongue. Somewhere on his bookshelf, the five books on English he got while in high school brustle and lift from their slumber.
Her eyes clear of any clouds of confusion at the familiar word, and her mouth pinches with shame.
"Go . . . men?" lifts at the end in question, for she is unsure if she's even saying the right thing.
"You're right," Naruto says with a huff. "Explains why the cat's name was in English."
"I hope she doesn't think we stole it," Sasuke mutters. "She saw you bring it out of my room."
"You're so pessimistic, Sasuke."
The woman's head flies back and forth between them, wide-eyed and unsure. When there's a pause, she asks Naruto something in English — something that comes out too fast for them to understand. Naruto has the looks of a foreigner. His dad was an American who moved here to marry Naruto's Japanese mother. The bright hair and blue eyes passed down to his son, but not a lick of English came with it. In English Studies, Naruto was always the last in class. Ironic how these things work. Their group of friends used to laugh about it all the time after school.
"I don't speak English," Naruto says, which he's probably said a thousand times or so in his life. He may not be bilingual, but he knows that line by heart. "Sorry."
The woman shakes her head in that sort of 'please don't worry about it' way.
At least that, they understand.
"Name?" Naruto asks in Japanese. He doesn't know the translation off the top of his head. Neither of them do. He's probably hoping she might know what he's saying, but her bemused hum tells him otherwise. So, being creative, he thumps his chest. "Uzumaki Naruto."
Then, he gestures to her.
Sasuke thinks she'll probably not get it, but she does.
Quietly, a little timidly, she says, "Hinata Hyuuga."
Huh.
"Japanese name," Naruto notes. "She said it backwards, but that's Japanese."
"Her family probably moved to America," Sasuke guesses.
"No way. England. That's an English accent for sure."
Coming from the guy who can't tell a trumpet from a trombone, but Sasuke keeps that detail to himself.
"Uchiha Sasuke," Naruto introduces him, then motions his shoulder to Room 205. "He's your neighbor."
Hinata shifts from one leg to another, suddenly looking impatient. She probably wants them to leave. Sasuke's happy to oblige, but before he can find a way to excuse himself, she lifts her hands in a motion, pushing them away from her body. Stay here. Then, she hurries inside, and he can hear her feet trotting away.
"Wow," Naruto sighs. "I need to relearn English."
Sasuke has enough time to smack the back of his head before she returns with a book in hand. She flips through it, and they both can see English and Japanese words. A translation book, maybe. She comes across a page with a colored, glossy picture of two people talking to each other in a park. The man is Japanese, dark hair combed back. The lady has blonde, curly hair, and her lipstick is a bright pink. There's sections of the page traced in yellow highlighter, and Hinata's index follows the words as she reads.
"Good to meet you," she pronounces carefully, eyes lifting to meet his, "Sasuke . . . san."
Naruto's hand claps against his mouth, but his snorting laugh escapes before he can hide it.
Sasuke frowns. "Uchiha."
Her eyes widen, and she re-reads again, then again, before turning a dark crimson that paints face, ears, and neck.
"Gomen," she whispers.
"Is okay!" Naruto says in English, grinning, eyes still crinkled with laughter. "Good Japanese."
Her smile flickers, and then she bows her head. "Arigatou. Neko. Arigatou."
"You're welcome!"
Sasuke sighs and nods, and Hinata steps back to close her door. The last thing they see is the red curve of her cheek, and then she's gone. They go back inside, where Sasuke starts the kettle and drags out the tea bags. Naruto sets the table and brings out the books and notes they'll need to study. Every so often, his eyes turn to the wall — the very wall his room and Room 206 share.
"I think Fate wanted that cat to get in here."
"If you're going to talk crap like that," Sasuke drones, "then you can study on your own."
...
That evening, after Naruto takes the train back to his place, Sasuke runs by the convenient store to grab a lint roller and shampoo. When he gets back, there's a plastic bag hanging from his knob. He drops it on his table and finds another lint roller inside, along with a flash card.
The kanji on it is amateur and written in glittery red ink, but he's able to understand it well.
Uchiha-san,
Thank you kindly. Sorry to bother you.
- H
Her 'arigatou gozaimasu' tells him that book must have told her the difference between polite and informal speak, and that surfacing annoyance of having gone out and wasted money on a lint roller subsides and simmers away.
Kuro - #2b2828
Saturday morning, right as the birds begin to chirp in the trees next to the apartment building, Sasuke stirs to a scratching at his front door. He takes his leisure, popping his joins and patting down a piece of bed head hair sticking out from his skull. Feet fitting into his plain slippers, he slides across the floor, peeks through the copper hole, sees nothing, and opens the door.
The breeze comes in first.
After comes the black cat. Room 206's cat.
Hinata's cat.
It trots in like it lives here. Smells his tennis shoes, scratches behind its ears, then basks in the stretch of sunshine on his wooden floor. Sasuke's been around his fair share of cats. There used to be a handful of strays around the streets surrounding his parents' home. It was a traditional building with engawas and sliding doors and courtyards, and when he was a child, he'd sneak out with a few yen to buy cat food and toys. Their numbers grew by the time he was in middle school. His father would tell him cats can smell who have weak hearts. Itachi would later say it was because of the food — because strays appreciate compassion as much as a meal.
But this is not a stray.
This one has an owner.
And after nearly losing it, one would think she'd keep a closer eye on it.
Sucking on his teeth, Sasuke bends over to let the cat smell him. It does, going so far as to lick the pad of his thumb. He scoops it up, sandwiches his feet into his sneakers, and goes to knock on Hinata's door again.
She greets him in a robe and pajama pants long enough to hide her feet. At the look of his face, then at the sight of her cat in his hands, her sleepy expression sharpens.
"Ohayou?"
"Good job," he mutters. "You got it right this time."
He holds out the cat, dropping it into her outstretched arms. Be more careful, he'd like to say. But she wouldn't be able to understand him. Hinata has the antsy sway to her again; last time she had it, she ran inside to grab her book. What a weird position to be in: to need a book to talk about simple things. What would happen if something serious happened? What if the building caught on fire? The police would have to stand and wait as she flipped through her little book to find the right answers.
Not that I'm any better. In all his English study classes, he always had his notes on him.
Languages never stuck with him.
But unlike Naruto, he at least has an excuse. There's no American in his blood.
Hinata mumbles something he can't understand. She lets the cat inside, stands, wobbles on her feet, then pulls the door further open. Her hand coaxes him to come inside. He's seen that motion in movies. A wide palm that scoops air. Sometimes, it looks like they're fanning their faces. Different from how people here do it, but he understands.
It's just a bit startling.
This isn't the movies.
This is real.
Sasuke's not sure what possible reason she could have to bring him inside. He's heard Americans are more bold. Is there anything suggestive about this invitation?
At seven in the morning? he wonders. Unlikely.
Who knows. Maybe Americans wake up ready to go at it.
But he remembers how red her face got yesterday. A concerning scarlet. She barely said two words to him, and she was already flushed bright. Maybe he's reading her wrong, but a shy girl like that probably isn't expecting anything . . . obscene.
And if she is . . . .
Well. Sasuke examines her eyes. Dew-y in the early morning. Strange, but nice to look at. She is pretty.
Not that good looks are enough to tempt him.
Not that a stranger he'd only met a few days ago who can barely say a word he understands is anywhere close to tempting him.
And yet, despite himself, he accepts the invitation with a shallow nod and a murmur of thanks.
"Arigatou," he says in a quiet, unnoticed joke.
His mother would smack him if she heard.
...
A pretty obvious thing is noticed the moment he steps in.
There's no guest slippers for him.
He stands on the lowered platform as Hinata steps up with no worries at all. The layout of her home is the same as his, though decorated drastically differently. Her table is tall, with two wooden chairs on opposite sides. The black cat lies on a sofa, tail swishing with ease, and a familiar, plastic-covered book sits on the coffee table. Hinata grabs it, turns, sees he's still at the front, and does that motion again. Scooping air. Come here.
Right.
They do things differently over there.
Sasuke taps the toe of his sneaker on the wooden level. "You have any slippers?"
All Hinata does is stare.
"Slippers," he says, slowly, as if that would help any. If she doesn't know the word, no matter how he says it, it won't reach her.
Sasuke thinks, then knocks a knuckle against the door.
"Hyuuga-san."
Her eyes pinch, probably unused to hearing her family name. Still, she comes, and he opens the door and motions for her to follow. They huddle into her entryway, and he shows her his slippers and the guest slippers he keeps. He can see the gears working, and when she understands, a flush of embarrassment takes her cheeks. She points to the guest slippers, then to herself, shaking her head.
"Yeah," he says. "I got that."
He steps onto the floor, waiting for her. Slowly, she slips her feet in, and skims across the floor to come further inside.
She took off her shoes? He double-checks, and finds, wildly, the only pair by the door are his.
She came over barefoot.
Americans are strange.
...
By his low table, positioned comfortably on his navy sitting cushions, they look upon Hinata's translation book. Some of it, he understands. There are English words, and next to them are Japanese kanji. They flip past a page of greetings and farewells and responses to small talk, and then Hinata squints, hums, and speaks.
"Are you okay?" she asks.
Her voice reminds him of a flag. In English, it waves; in Japanese, it flaps and snaps.
"Desuka," he corrects. "We sort of slur it. Daijōbudesuka?"
Hinata watches his mouth when he talks. His lips feel numb, and his neck heats up.
"Yes," he says.
She bows to her book, looking for his response. He sees the kanji and taps his index next to it, and she nods and smiles. Then, she starts flipping back and forth between pages, lips pinched and eyes steady. She motions for something to write with, so Sasuke stands and grabs her a pencil and a notebook he hasn't used yet.
"Arigatou gozaimasu."
"Fast learner," he muses.
As she flips and writes and flips some more, he heats up the water in the kettle and pulls out the two kinds of tea he has in the cupboards. He shows them to her. The names are in Japanese, but the boxes are decorated with what kind of flavor they are. She chooses green, and he prepares their cups and sets hers down in front of her before sitting next to her once more.
It's a little weird, having her in his home.
Not his plan for the day, that's for sure.
He didn't even know she existed four days ago. He'll have to call Itachi and leave a voicemail about this. Met someone new. I guess I'm healthy this week.
His notebook is decorated with a line of kanji in her sloppy handwriting. It reads: Cat a bother? So that's what her question was about. She's worried her cat is annoying him.
Sure, the surprise a few days ago and the early wake up this morning were unexpected, but Sasuke wouldn't go so far as to call them annoying. Maybe, somewhere inside, he doesn't mind. It reminds him of home and his childhood.
There's a lot he'd like to say.
I don't care if you don't.
But why is the cat outside?
Is that okay?
Do you let it out on purpose?
His questions brew in his eyes, and Hinata must notice that, for she turns the notebook his way and offers him the pencil.
Write? But he doesn't know much English.
She sits there, expectant, and Sasuke writes to show what he means. Her eyes trace the unfamiliar kanji, and her face drops. Seems she figured she found a way to communicate with him: only issues is that she has the translating book. He doesn't.
"I remember some," he says.
His pencil goes down the lines.
Good morning.
I'm fine, how are you?
My name is Sasuke Uchiha. He remembers how his teacher used to go on and on about learning how to write their names in English. Given name first. Family name last.
Where is the hospital?
Do you speak Japanese?
Hinata laughs, "Wow!"
And that, Sasuke understands, and he almost smiles.
...
They're drinking tea and combing through the book. He's reading the little kanji there is, and when he finds what he's looking for, he stops her from flipping to the next page. He taps to the English word next to it, and she reads it, perplexed.
"How do you say this?" he asks.
Hinata must connect the dots in her head, somehow, for she says in English, "Okay."
"Okay," he repeats, then pulls the notebook in front of her. "The cat is . . . okay."
She grins, nods, and shuts her book. Is that the end? No more translating needed? He eyes her cup, still halfway full of tea, and wonders if she's leaving. Hinata makes no move to, warming her fingers along the brim.
Then, after a while, she says, "Hamlet."
Sasuke frowns, confused. "What?"
Hinata draws the outline of a cat in the lined notebook paper, coloring it in. The graphite makes it look more gray than black, but Sasuke gets the idea.
"Weird name," he says. "Shakespeare."
Next to the drawing, she writes something strange. #2b2828
Sasuke tries to process this. The numbers, he recognizes. But what does this mean?
Hinata circles the first two characters, and says, "Two B."
Right.
The English Alphabet. B. He really only remembers them when they're capitalized. When they studied together for exams, Naruto would always write his English notes in capital letters. He was never good at remembering what they looked like lowercase, so Sasuke got used to seeing them more.
Two b, huh?
"To be, or not to be," he muses in English. "That is the question. From Hamlet. Right?"
Hinata looks awestruck, like he's turned green and alien. "English."
"Yeah." He finishes his tea. "We know some English."
Popular things.
Guns N' Roses' 'Sweet Child O' Mine' lyrics.
That famous quote from Star Wars: "May the force be with you."
If English was all about quoting pop culture references, then Sasuke would be bilingual.
His attention returns to that odd string of numbers.
Still, he doesn't know what they mean.
He'd ask, but he doesn't know how. And if he did, would Hinata know how to answer?
So he stays quiet. When she finishes her drink, he takes the dishes to the sink, and she whispers a soft 'arigatou gozaimasu' as she slips from his guest slippers and pads (barefoot) against the cool tile of the entrance. He doesn't get the chance to say goodbye by the time she leaves.
He doesn't need to.
Sasuke has a feeling he'll be seeing her again.
...
That evening, when he's waiting for his rice to be ready in the cooker, another set of scratches comes to his door.
Will this be normal? he wonders. Not in a complaining manner.
That couldn't be further from reality.
He opens the door, and in comes Hamlet. His pink studded collar catches the lights of the kitchen, and when Sasuke bends down to scratch under his chin, he sees a small piece of paper rolled under his collar. Taking it, he unrolls it and sees Hinata's messy writing again.
Uchiha-san,
I bought slippers. Thank you kindly for showing me.
Next time, I will be ready for you.
- H
"Tch," he scoffs, though some of it is warm with an amused laugh. "Strange woman."
...
For some reason, the rice tastes sweet that night, and Sasuke decides to browse one of his old English study books before he goes to bed.
