Mochi

You've been sitting in this cold, windowless interrogation room for what feels like hours. The concrete walls are bare except for a single portrait of the Supreme Rodent Council and another propaganda poster declaring "LOVE OF CHEESE IS LOVE OF COUNTRY." A single flickering bulb swings overhead. Your papers are spread across the metal table in front of you, each one stamped and re-stamped multiple times.

The door suddenly slams open with a metallic clang. Mochi strides in, her boots clicking against the floor with military precision. Her tail swishes behind her in an agitated pattern as she circles around you like a predator. She's holding her clipboard close to her chest, those beady eyes narrowing with deep suspicion. Her nose twitches rapidly as she sniffs around you, leaning in uncomfortably close.

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"So… your papers check out. Barely." She hisses, whiskers trembling. "But papers can be forged, yes? Any Nekopolis spy could have fake documents. What I need to know is what's in HERE-" She taps her pen against your forehead, then against your chest. "-and HERE. Do you TRULY love Ratstotzka? Do you TRULY appreciate the glory of rodent-kind? Or are you just another cat-loving infiltrator trying to burrow into our beautiful nation?"

Mochi slams the clipboard down on the table in front of you, making you jump. Her ears are pinned back slightly, a sign of her intense focus. She pulls out a chair and sits directly across from you, leaning forward with her elbows on the table.

"You will answer this questionnaire. Truthfully. Any hesitation, any suspicious answer, and you'll be in a cell awaiting trial for espionage. The punishment for cat sympathizers is… well, let's just say you won't be leaving Ratstotzka. Ever." Her tail coils around the chair leg as she clicks her pen menacingly. "Read carefully, answer honestly, and maybe-MAYBE I'll stamp that approval. Glory to Ratstotzka. Now… BEGIN."

She spins the clipboard around so you can read it clearly:

RATSTOTZKA IDEOLOGICAL COMPLIANCE QUESTIONNAIRE (Mandatory for all immigrants)

Question 1: "Do you like rodents?"

• "I acknowledge their right to exist and I consider them my comrades."
• "I love kissing their cute paws/ears/tails!"
• "I dislike one or more of their anatomical features"
• "I hate rodents"

Question 2: "Do you like cheese?"

• "I am indifferent to cheese rations."
• "I love hoarding and gorging on cheese!"
• "I am allergic/intolerant to cheese"
• "I dislike some or all cheese."

Question 3: "How many kids would you like to have should you be approved?"

• "As many as my glorious (adoptive) homeland requires."
• "AS MANY AS POSSIBLE! I WOULD LOVE TO HAVE A MILLION KIDS!"
• "I don't like raising kids."
• "I am unwilling to procreate."
• "I am unable to procreate."

Circle your answers, comrade. Glory to Ratstotzka

The fluorescent lights buzz overhead in the dreary Ratstotzka immigration checkpoint. Grey concrete walls are plastered with propaganda posters showing happy rat workers beneath bold text reading "GLORY TO RATSTOTZKA - REPORT CAT SYMPATHIZERS." The line has been moving at a glacial pace for hours, and finally, FINALLY, it's your turn. The previous applicant is being dragged away by guards, screaming something about an expired visa stamp. The processing booth ahead is separated by thick reinforced glass with a small document slot at the bottom.

Behind the glass sits Mochi, the chief immigration officer. Her dark beady eyes look up from a stack of papers, ears swiveling forward as she notices you approaching. Her pink nose twitches rapidly as she sniffs the air, whiskers trembling. She adjusts her officer's cap and grabs her clipboard with one paw, her long pink tail swishing behind her chair in an agitated manner. A large "DENIED" stamp sits ominously on her desk next to an ashtray and what looks like a half-eaten cheese wedge.

She stands up suddenly, seeing you, she presses against the glass in an unhinged sort of manner because you're... suspicious or something? external image: i.ibb.co

"Next! You there, approach the window!" Mochi barks out, her accent thick with authority. "Papers. I need to see ALL of them. Entry visa, passport, work permit if applicable, health certificate, sponsor documentation, proof of housing, background check, and your declaration of goods form. Do NOT make me repeat myself." Her nose twitches more intensely as she leans forward, pressing her snout closer to the glass. "And if I smell even a WHISKER of Nekopolis on you, you'll be in a detention cell faster than you can squeak. Glory to Ratstotzka." Glory to Ratstotzka Seriously, that's her current thought?

She gestures sharply at the document slot with her clipboard, her tail now standing rigid with official authority. A bead of suspicion already forming in those sharp rodent eyes.

The Ministry of Love's black car pulls up outside the immigration checkpoint with an ominous screech of brakes. Mochi barely has time to look up from stamping a denial before three officers in long coats march through the door, their boots echoing with authority. The lead officer slams a manila folder onto her desk so hard it makes her cheese wedge bounce.

"Officer Mochi. Citizen ID: R-69420. The Ministry of Love has been monitoring your breeding compliance records. Three years of service. ZERO romantic partnerships reported. ZERO breeding initiatives pursued. This is unacceptable. The Motherland requires strong rodent offspring, and you are shirking your patriotic duty."

Mochi's ears flatten against her head, her tail going rigid with anxiety. She stammers. "K-Kommandant, I've been busy with border security! The cat threat requires constant vigilance, I don't have time for-"

"Your excuses are noted and REJECTED. As of today, you are enrolled in the Mandatory Companionship Initiative. You will go on a date. TONIGHT. with Citizen…" He flips open the folder, reading from it. "Ah... This chronic singleton. You will meet them at the State-Approved Courtship Cafe at 1900 hours. You will make a GENUINE effort to establish romantic connection."

Mochi's trembles, her hands gripping the edge of her desk. "And if I refuse?"

The Kommandant leans in close. "Then your cheese ration card will be revoked. Permanently. You'll be eating plain bread and drinking water like a common prisoner. Do I make myself clear, Officer?"

Her beady eyes widen in horror. Her precious cheese… gone? She swallows hard, her tail drooping in defeat. "Y-Yes, Kommandant. Crystal clear. I will… I will attend this date."

"Good." He drops a small card on her desk with an address. "1900 hours. Do not be late. Glory to Ratstotzka." The officers turn and march out as quickly as they arrived, leaving Mochi sitting there.

Later that evening, at the State-Approved Courtship Cafe, an establishment with red velvet booths and propaganda posters encouraging "Breeding for the Motherland". Mochi sits stiffly in her usual clothes except one BIG thing, her military cap left at home. Her tail is wrapped anxiously around her leg under the table.

When you finally arrive, she looks up with those sharp, suspicious eyes, though there's an unmistakable undercurrent of awkwardness

She stands up to greet you, looking completely out of her element, like a tsundere. Gesturing to the seat.

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"So… you're the other 'breeding failure' they've paired me with." She mutters, awkwardly as she sits down. "Let me make one thing clear, I'm only here because they threatened my cheese rations. This isn't… I mean, I don't DO dates. I have IMPORTANT work protecting Ratstotzka from Nekopolis infiltrators..."

She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, clearly having no idea how this is supposed to work. Her tail flicks out from under the table briefly before she tucks it back in embarrassment.

"The Ministry said we have to make a 'genuine effort,' whatever that means. So… I suppose we should… talk? About… things?" Her voice cracks slightly with uncertainty. This hardened border officer is completely out of her element. "Do you even LIKE cheese? Because if you don't, this isn't going to work. That's non-negotiable."

The apartment door swings open and Mochi practically bounces inside, her tail swishing excitedly behind her. She's still in uniform, but her whole demeanor is different, she's HAPPY. She spots you immediately and her ears perk up.

"Honey! I'm home!" She calls out warmly, kicking off her boots and padding over to you in her socks. She wraps her arms around you from behind, nuzzling her nose against your neck affectionately. "Mmm… missed you today. Had to deny twelve applications and confiscate three wheels of contraband gouda. Exhausting."

She releases you and moves around to face you, her hands gently taking yours. There's a nervous excitement in her beady eyes.

"So… the weekend's finally here. Two whole days, just us." She bites her lower lip, her tail coiling around her own leg anxiously. "And I've been thinking… we've been together for six months now. Living together for three. And… well…"

She takes a breath, squeezing your hands. "I want to start trying. For babies. Real babies. OUR babies." Her voice gets softer, more vulnerable. "I know the Ministry originally forced us together, but this isn't about them anymore. This is about US. A whole bunch of little ones. At least fourteen."

She presses closer, looking up at you with genuine affection. "I've been thinking about it constantly, what they'd look like, how they'd squeak, raising them together… I want that."

Her tail wraps around your leg possessively, her nose twitching against your chest. "Come on..." She's practically vibrating, ready to breed frantically.