The Passengers on the Hankyu Line полностью

Masahiro was more often now referred to as the onee-san – the older brother. Most of the time it was when he was being scolded: ‘You’re the onee-san, so you should behave yourself.’ Masahiro would come back with a sullen, ‘I hate being the onee-san.

‘You never tell Hiromi to behave. It’s not fair!’ he’d protest.

His parents had to admit he had a point.

‘Okay, so let’s make Hiromi an onee-san, too,’ Mrs Sakuraba proposed.

‘But Hiromi doesn’t have a younger brother.’ Masahiro was pouting again.

‘No, but he does have Kota,’ Mrs Sakuraba said with a smile.

What? Just a second! Now it was Kota who was getting flustered. I’m the older brother, actually. I was born first, and besides, I’m already an adult. But Kota could protest all day – humans couldn’t understand cat talk.

‘Hiromi, you can be Kota’s big brother, can’t you?’

‘You bet!’

You bet wrong there, little man.

But this cat protest, too, was completely ignored.

You’d best give it up. Humans only understand their own language, Diana said.

‘So you’d better set a good example as an older brother for Kota,’ said Mr Sakuraba.

Kota dropped his eyes and lay belly down on the floor.

When it comes to walking, running, jumping, even grooming, a kid like Hiromi has absolutely nothing to teach me.

‘Before we have dinner, I’d like the two of you to clean up the room, okay? You’re both older brothers now, after all.’

‘Okaay,’ the two boys answered, a more docile response than usual, and began to gather up the toys and picture books that lay scattered across the floor.

This is how Kota became the third son – cat – in the family hierarchy, even though by any measure nothing could have been further from the truth.

BUT NOW, YEARS LATER, HIROMI had grown properly big, Kota thought as he gazed up from where he sat at his feet. Hiromi had got up late this morning, but still did not seem to be in a hurry.

Hiromi had grown taller than Mr Sakuraba, even taller than Masahiro.

‘Morning!’ Hiromi greeted his mum, who immediately shot back with, ‘Took your time getting up, that’s for sure.’ Hiromi shrugged. Being a college student seemed a pretty leisurely occupation.

Hiromi gave Kota’s head a good pat as he passed by on his way to the fridge. He took out a carton of milk and started to glug it down.

‘Don’t drink straight from the carton!’

‘But I’m going to finish it.’

Hiromi drained the milk, rinsed out the carton in the sink and dropped it in the recycling bin.

Ah hah!

As Hiromi was crouched down arranging items in the recycling bin, Kota, who had been sprawling on the sofa, suddenly saw his chance. He shot over to him and scrambled up Hiromi’s back.

‘OUCH!!’

By the time Hiromi had let out this overblown yell, Kota was already at his shoulders.

‘You scratched my back with your claws, Kota!’

But I have to bare them – how else can I get a grip?

Kota now had a good purchase on Hiromi’s shoulders and was gazing down, his face inscrutable. Mrs Sakuraba, who had been rifling through the morning mail at the dining table, looked over and giggled. ‘He’s never satisfied until he’s climbed on top of your shoulders at least once a day.’

‘Kota has been doing that since he was little. Though it used to be Dad he preferred to climb.’

No, you’ve got that all wrong.

Kota stuck out a paw on the back of Hiromi’s neck.

Since he was little. Kota had not been little at all. Only Hiromi and Masahiro had been little at the time. When he’d started to climb up Dad’s back, he was already an adult.

‘I wonder what it was that made him start that habit.’

‘Diana never did anything like that, so he’s not imitating her.’

He did it on purpose, so calling it a habit was a bit annoying. What made him do it? It was Hiromi himself (and Masahiro).

But Hiromi seemed to have forgotten all about it. He might be big now, but he’s still an unreliable little kid, as far as I’m concerned.

At the time, the Sakuraba boys were crazy about riding on their dad’s shoulders, and whenever their father had a day off, they pestered him.

And as Kota observed the boys in action, he caught on to the rules. The one who got on top of Dad’s shoulders was the winner. And it wasn’t because he was lifted there.

So a few days later, Kota sat back, quivered his behind as he focused on his target, then took a leap and clambered up Mr Sakuraba’s back. Ignoring Mr Sakuraba’s shouts, Kota kept climbing, grabbing tightly with his claws on to the back of his neck, thus winning the cooing admiration of the boys.