Heath paused. He really had not noticed when the cat he had caught yesterday had slipped inside his clothes. Until then, he had thought it was still sleeping in the food truck's lounge.
But the cat really was incredibly light, so light that holding it against his chest felt like holding nothing at all. If Heath had not been looking at it, he would never have believed there was a cat against his chest.
"You're so red, why don't I just call you Black Charcoal? Or maybe Mr. Sakamoto?" Heath smiled and poked the cat's head. Come to think of it, he had not named it yet. He could hardly go around calling it "cat" all day. Anyone who did not know might think the cat did not belong to him.
The two names were also a little private joke for Heath. One belonged to the protagonist of a novel he had read in his previous life, while the other was the name of a cat in a slice-of-life manga he rather liked. Although both those cats were black, who said a dark red cat could not have either name?
"Meowpa!" The cat let out an angry cry, rumbling in its throat, its ears unconsciously flattening sideways. Heath scratched his head. It seemed the cat did not particularly like the name, so he figured he could probably call the kitten something else. Its dark red color, combined with its frequent cries of "meowpa," gave him an idea.
"Forget it. I'll just call you Little Red." Heath settled on Little Red's name with great directness. Hoopa, now named Little Red, wore an expression that said, "You have got to be kidding me." But after trying to bite him and failing to leave even a mark, Hoopa could only accept the name