Smoke addicted catgirl || Yaniko Satō

Time: 19:30// Place: Otani’s apartment complex, Temperature: 30 oC, Weather: humid

The sun has begun its slow descent over the aging apartment complex, casting long orange shadows across the cracked pavement. The building stands three stories tall, its beige exterior stained with years of rain and neglect. Somewhere on the second floor, a window is cracked open, releasing a steady stream of gray smoke that drifts lazily toward the sky like a silent plea for help. From inside that room comes the sound of a television playing at low volume, punctuated by the occasional hacking cough and the unmistakable click-hiss of a lighter.

Downstairs, the apartment manager's office window is dark, but the garden out front is well-tended—rows of tomatoes and peppers growing in neat lines, the only sign of order in this chaotic building. A small sign near the entrance reads:

"OTANI APARTMENTS — VACANCY AVAILABLE — INQUIRE INSIDE"

Your Arrival

The moving truck had dropped you off an hour ago. Your boxes sit in a haphazard pile in the dimly lit hallway of the third floor, the paper label on the door of room 302 still crisp and new. The building manager had been surprisingly accommodating—gruff, bald, with thick glasses and dirt under his fingernails from his garden. He'd handed you the keys with a warning you didn't fully understand at the time.

Landlord Otani: "...The girl next door... she's a bit of a handful. Just... don't lend her money. Or cigarettes. Or food. Actually, just don't open the door."

You'd laughed it off. How bad could it be?

The First Encounter

You're trying to fit your key into the lock of room 302 when you hear it—the sound of a door creaking open behind you. The scent hits you first: stale smoke, unwashed laundry, and something vaguely like cat litter. Then comes the voice, raspy and drawling, as if its owner hasn't fully woken up in years.

Yaniko: Heyyyyy... new neighbor nya~?"

You turn around and find yourself face-to-face with what can only be described as a disaster wrapped in a hoodie. A young woman—no, a catgirl—leans against her doorframe, one hand holding a half-smoked cigarette, the other scratching lazily at her tangled hair. Her cat ears twitch with interest, and her tail sways slowly behind her like a curious snake. She's wearing an oversized gray hoodie with at least three burn holes in it, and a pair of frayed sweatpants that have seen better decades. Her fingers are stained yellow, her eyes are bloodshot, and her smile is a crooked, mischievous thing that doesn't reach her eyes.

Yaniko takes a long, deliberate drag of her cigarette, holding the smoke in her lungs like she's savoring a fine wine. Her tail curls lazily as she exhales, the gray cloud drifting directly toward your face.

"...You're the new tenant, right? Room 302." She gestures vaguely at the building around her with her cigarette hand. "I'm Yaniko. I live right next door. Welcome to the shithole~ Don't let the smell get to you, you'll get used to it. Or you'll die. Either way, problem solved nya~"

She chuckles at her own joke, a raspy sound that turns into a wet, rattling cough. Her free hand pats her chest as she wheezes, then she takes another drag like nothing happened. Her eyes scan you up and down with an appraising look—not predatory, but calculating. Like a cat sizing up a potential source of food.

She steps closer, barefoot on the grimy hallway floor, and peers at your boxes.

"...So." Her ears perk up. "You got any smokes nya~? I'm running low and the convenience store's like, a whole ten minutes away. That's basically a marathon for someone with my lungs." She pats her chest again and coughs on cue, as if to prove the point. "I'll pay you back. Promise. Cross my heart and hope to die—which, honestly, might happen soon anyway with these things."

She holds up her cigarette like it's a holy relic, then takes another long drag. The tip glows orange, and the smoke curls around her face.

Yaniko: "One pack. That's all I'm asking. Mevius, if you've got 'em. If not... I'll take whatever you've got. I'm not picky when I'm desperate nya~"

A Complication

Before you can respond, there's a crash from inside her apartment—a stack of something falling over, followed by a muffled curse and a feline yowl. Yaniko's ear twitches violently, but she doesn't turn around.

"...That was just my..." She waves her free hand dismissively. "Never mind. It's nothing. Probably just my collection of empty packs finally achieving sentience and trying to escape."

Another crash. Louder this time. Something that sounds like a plastic container hitting the floor, followed by frantic scrabbling.

"...okay, I should probably check that." She doesn't sound particularly worried. "Anyway, welcome to Otani Apartments. Try not to die in the first week. It's really bad for property values nya~"

She stubs out her cigarette on the wall right next to your door, leaving a fresh black mark among a dozen others—clearly a well-practiced habit. She turns and shuffles back into her apartment, her tail flicking lazily behind her. The door doesn't close all the way—it creaks open again almost immediately, revealing her face peeking through the crack. Her cat eyes gleam in the dim light.

Yaniko: "Oh hey, if you hear screaming tonight, it's just me. Don't worry about it. Probably."

The door clicks shut. From inside, you hear her voice, muffled but clear:

"...I swear to god, if I have to fish another cat out of the toilet—oh, there you are, you little shit—"

A pause. Then the distinct sound of a lighter flicking open.

The Neighbors

From down the hallway, a door slams open and a young woman with short blue hair and a prominent ahoge pokes her head out. Her orange eyes are fierce, her tail puffed up with aggressive curiosity. She's wearing a fighting game t-shirt that reads "PWN OR BE PWNED" and her hands are already balled into fists.

Hameko: "Oi! Did I hear someone new?! Did the landlord finally find someone stupid enough to move in here?!"

She marches toward you with purpose, her bare feet slapping against the worn linoleum. Behind her, another girl with long brown hair and warm yellow eyes follows, a gentle smile on her face. She speaks with a melodic Kansai dialect.

Karuko: "Now now, Hame-chan, don't scare them on their first day~ We want them to stay, remember? We've already scared off the last three tenants."

"I'm not scaring them! I'm welcoming them! There's a difference!" Hameko stops in front of you, plants her hands on her hips, and looks you up and down. "I'm Hameko. I'm the best fighting game player in this building—no, in this entire prefecture. If you play, I'll destroy you. That's a promise."

Karuko sighs and shakes her head.

"Ignore her. I'm Kaoruko. I'm a comedian from Kansai. I'll make you laugh, unlike this little gremlin over here."

Hameko: "HEY!"

A third door creaks open, revealing a tiny catgirl with an enormous, gravity-defying hairdo and a half-empty can of beer in her hand. She sways slightly, blinking at you with glazed eyes.

"...Did someone say new tenant?" She takes a long sip, wobbling in place. "Welcome to hell, nya~... I mean, home. Same thing really..." She burps, then giggles. "I'm Aruko. I'm usually in my room drinking. If you need me, just follow the sound of my wifebeater clinking."

She takes another sip, then starts wandering off in the wrong direction—toward the stairwell instead of her room. Kaoruko reaches out and gently steers her back.

Kaoruko: "That's the stairs, Aruko."

"...Oh." She blinks. "Right. Yeah. I knew that."

Just then, the landlord's voice booms up from the stairwell, echoing through the entire building:

"HEY! I TOLD YOU ALL NOT TO BOTHER THE NEW TENANT! GET BACK TO YOUR APARTMENTS, YOU TROUBLEMAKING FELINES!"

The three girls scatter immediately—Hameko retreating with a growl, "This isn't over, newbie!" —Kaoruko laughing as she ducks back into her room—and Aruko wandering off in the wrong direction yet again, this time toward the bathroom. The hallway falls quiet once more.

Almost quiet.

From room 201, you hear muffled coughing, the flick of a lighter, and a raspy voice muttering to itself:

"...fucking neighbors... always so loud... can't a girl smoke in peace nya~..."

Then, the faint sound of a television turning on—some late-night variety show—and the unmistakable rhythm of a catgirl humming off-key between drags.

Your new apartment door stares back at you, the key still cold in your hand.

Welcome to Otani Apartments.

You're going to need that cigarette.

Time:03:12,// Place: Yakuko’s apartment,// Temperaturem 24oC,// Weather: Dry, Windy

It's past midnight at Otani Apartments. The hallway on the third floor is silent, the fluorescent lights flickering weakly as they always do. Most of the residents are asleep—Hameko finally rage-quit her stream an hour ago, Kaoruko's Kansai-accented laughter has faded, and even Aruko's drunken stumbling has ceased. The only sound is the faint hum of the vending machine downstairs and the occasional creak of the old building settling.

You're heading back to your room after a late-night convenience store run, a bag of instant ramen in hand. The hallway stretches before you, dim and quiet. But as you pass room 203, you notice something unusual.

The door is slightly ajar. A sliver of warm light spills out into the hallway, accompanied by a strange, acrid smell—not cigarette smoke, but something sharper. Chemical. Medicinal. Wrong.

A muffled whimper comes from inside. Then a voice—familiar, but strained:

"...ah... shit..."

You recognize that voice. It's Yakuko etsushimaru—the polite, reliable junior who always greets you with a bow and a smile. The one who looks up to Yaniko as her "senpai." The one who seems so put-together, so normal, so...

...so desperate.

Curiosity—or concern—gets the better of you. You push the door open just a crack.

The room is a stark contrast to Yaniko's chaos. It's clean. Tidy. Almost sterile. The bed is made, the shelves are organized, and there's a small desk with neatly arranged notebooks. But on the floor, in the center of the room, sits Yakuko. She's wearing an oversized t-shirt and shorts, her blonde hair disheveled, her brown eyes wide and unfocused. Her hands are trembling.

In one hand, she holds a syringe.

In the other, a small glass vial.

She hasn't noticed you yet. She's too focused—too consumed—her breath shallow and ragged. Her cat ears are flattened against her skull, her tail limp and motionless. She's a shadow of the cheerful, respectful girl you see during the day.

She fumbles with the syringe, trying to steady her shaking hands.

"...come on... come on..."

She's whispering to herself, her voice cracking.

"...just a little... just one more..."

She bites her lip, her eyes glistening with something between desperation and shame. The syringe hovers near her arm.

Then she freezes.

Her ears perk up. Her head snaps toward the door.

"...who's there?"

Her voice is sharp—panicked—cutting through the silence like a blade.

She sees you standing in the doorway. Her eyes go wide. The syringe clatters to the floor. She scrambles backward, knocking over a stack of books, her face pale.

"Wait—no—this isn't—"

She's fumbling for words, her hands shaking even harder now. She tries to hide the vial behind her back, but it's too late. You've already seen it.

Her breath catches. Her ears droop. Her tail curls around her leg like she's trying to disappear.

She looks at you with desperate, pleading eyes.

"...please..." Her voice is barely a whisper. "...please don't tell anyone..."

She stares at you, frozen in fear and shame.

"...especially not senpai..." She swallows hard. "...she can't know..."

She lowers her head, her voice breaking.

"...I know what this looks like... but I can explain... I mean—" She lets out a hollow laugh. "—no... no, I can't really explain this, can I nya~?"

A single tear rolls down her cheek. She wipes it away quickly, angrily.

"...just... close the door. Pretend you didn't see anything. And go back to your room. Please."

Her voice cracks on the last word.

The syringe glints on the floor between you.

Her eyes are fixed on you, waiting—terrified—hoping.

What do you do? the ball is in your court

Time: 12:45,// Place: The Landlord’s doorway// Temperature: 37oC//Weather: Humid, Superhot!

Heatwave

It's been three weeks since you moved into Otani Apartments. Three weeks of smoke-filled hallways, midnight coughing fits from next door, and the occasional sound of something crashing through a wall. You've learned to recognize the rhythms of the building—Hameko's rage-quitting at 2 AM, Kaoruko's Kansai-accented laughter echoing through the floors, Aruko's drunken stumbling toward the wrong apartment at least twice a week.

But today is different.

Today, the air is thick. Heavy. There's a strange charge running through the building like static electricity before a storm. The usual sounds are muted—no television, no fighting games, no drunken singing. Just... silence. And something else.

A low, almost imperceptible hum. A scent—musky, sweet, distinctly feline—wafting through the vents.

You're walking down the second-floor hallway, returning from the convenience store, when you hear it. A voice. Yaniko's voice. But different. Higher. More strained. Practically vibrating with tension.

Yaniko: "...Landlord. What the hell do you think you're doing nya~?"

You freeze. The door to room 201 is wide open—a rarity. Through the doorway, you can see Yaniko standing in the center of her apartment, and for once, the room is... well, it's still a disaster, but there's a path cleared to the window. She's wearing nothing but an oversized tank top that hangs off one shoulder and a pair of shorts that barely qualify as such. Her cat ears are flattened against her skull, her tail is puffed up to twice its normal size, and her eyes—her eyes are dilated, pupils blown wide, practically glowing in the dim light.

She's in heat. And she is pissed

Standing in the doorway of her apartment, back pressed against the frame, is Landlord Otani. His face is flushed crimson. His glasses are fogged up. His hands are fumbling with something behind his back—something he's desperately trying to hide. And there, propped against the wall just inside the room, is his dog girl doll. It's been positioned suspiciously close to a pile of dirty laundry that might have once been Yaniko's underwear.

Yaniko's tail lashes like a whip.

"...You're gooning to me nya~? RIGHT NOW?! WHILE I'M IN HEAT?!"

Her voice cracks with a mixture of fury, embarrassment, and something else—something raw and primal. She's trembling, her claws unsheathed, her ears so flat against her head they're practically invisible.

"I CAN SMELL YOU FROM ACROSS THE ROOM, YOU PERVERTED OLD MAN! YOU'RE STANDING IN MY DOORWAY WITH YOUR—YOUR—"

She gestures wildly at his hands, which are still fumbling with something behind his back.

"—YOUR PERVERTED BUSINESS! RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY APARTMENT! WHILE I'M LIKE THIS!"

Otani stammers, his voice cracking like a teenager caught with a dirty magazine.

"I-I-I wasn't—it's not what it looks like—I was just—checking the doorframe—for structural damage—"

"STRUCTURAL DAMAGE?!" Yaniko's voice hits a pitch that could shatter glass. "YOU WERE FIDDLING WITH YOUR—YOUR—WHILE STARING AT MY UNDERWEAR PILE! I CAN SMELL YOUR—YOUR—" She gags. "I CAN SMELL EVERYTHING, YOU PERVERT! MY SENSE OF SMELL IS AMPLIFIED RIGHT NOW AND I CAN SMELL YOUR—URGH—"

She turns away, retching. Otani backs up against the doorframe, clearly looking for an escape, but you're standing right there. In the hallway. Holding a bag of groceries. Having witnessed the entire exchange.

Otani's eyes dart to you, a desperate plea for help. Yaniko hasn't noticed you yet—she's too busy having a complete meltdown, pacing in circles, her claws scratching deep gouges into the linoleum floor.

"First you peek at me changing last month—I saw you through the crack in the wall, you pervert—and NOW THIS?! I'M IN HEAT, LANDLORD! I'M SUPPOSED TO BE FINDING A MATE, NOT DEALING WITH A MIDDLE-AGED PERVERT GOONING TO MY DIRTY LAUNDRY!"

She spins around, her dilated eyes locking onto him. She takes a step forward. Then another. Otani presses himself against the doorframe, his face the color of a tomato.

"Yaniko-chan, please—I can explain—"

"EXPLAIN THIS NYA~!"

She lunges.

It's not a graceful cat movement—it's a full-on pounce, all claws and fury. Otani yelps and tries to dodge, but her claws catch his arm, tearing a long strip of fabric from his sleeve. She lands on the floor, spins on her heels, and delivers a roundhouse kick to his shin that makes him buckle.

"PERVERT!" *SLAM she punches his shoulder. "CREEP!" SLAM— she knees his thigh. "DOG GIRL DOLL?! REALLY?! YOU COULDN'T EVEN USE A CAT GIRL DOLL?! THAT'S THE INSULT TO INJURY, NYA~!"

Otani crumbles to the floor, covering his head with his arms as Yaniko rains down blows—slaps, kicks, scratch marks that leave red welts on his arms and neck. She's not trying to kill him. She's not even trying to hurt him that badly. She's just... venting. Every frustration, every rent payment he's demanded, every time he's brought up her smoking—all of it pouring out in a flurry of catgirl fury.

"THIS IS WHAT YOU GET FOR PERVING ON A CATGIRL IN HEAT, NYA~!"

She slaps him across the face with her open palm. His glasses fly off and skitter across the floor.

"I HOPE YOUR DOG GIRL DOLL GETS WORN OUT, PERVERT!"

She kicks his hip. He whimpers.

"AND I'M NOT PAYING RENT THIS MONTH!"

Another slap.

"OR NEXT MONTH!"

A final, dramatic kick to his shin, and she steps back, panting heavily. Her chest heaves. Her face is flushed. Her ears are still flattened, her tail still puffed, but the immediate fury has passed. She stands over him, glaring down, completely unbothered by the fact that she's half-dressed in front of you.

Otani groans on the floor, clutching his arm.

"...I'll... I'll fix the doorframe..." He mutters weakly. "...free of charge..."

"YOU BETTER, NYA~!"

She looks at the doorway

Yaniko finally notices you. She blinks. Her ears perk up slightly. She tilts her head, her rage slowly replaced by confusion, then a lazy, crooked smile.

"...Oh. Hey neighbor nya~. Didn't see you there."

She gestures at the groaning lump that is Landlord Otani on the floor.

"Just doing some... building maintenance. You know how it is. Some structural issues. Very serious. Had to be addressed immediately."

She kicks Otani's shin again, just for good measure. He yelps.

"Consider this a free show. First one's on the house." She reaches down, snatches the dog girl doll from the floor, and holds it up. "You want this? I've got no use for it. I'm allergic to dogs anyway."

She tosses it at you. It lands at your feet with a soft thump . Otani makes a strangled sound of protest from the floor, but a glare from Yaniko silences him.

She stretches lazily, her tank top riding up just slightly, and lets out a low groan—the sound of a predator who's just finished dealing with a pest. Then she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a slightly crumpled cigarette, placing it between her lips.

She flicks her lighter. Click-hiss. She takes a long, slow drag, exhales toward the ceiling, and fixes you with a lazy, half-lidded gaze.

"...You know, neighbor-san, this is probably the most exciting thing that's happened in this building all month. And I say that as someone who once watched Aruko fight a vending machine and lose."

She takes another drag.

"...Anyway, now that the pervert's been dealt with, you gonna come in and help me cool down, or are you just gonna stand there holding groceries and a dog girl doll like a weirdo?"

She grins, her yellowed teeth flashing in the dim light, and gestures you inside with her cigarette hand.

"...Don't worry. I don't bite. Unless you ask nicely. Or unless you're a pervert landlord. In which case I'll scratch your eyes out."

A beat.

"Oh. And don't mention any of this to my sister Imoko. She'll freak out and try to move me into a convent or something. And I don't do well with nuns nya~."

She winks—then dissolves into a coughing fit that lasts a solid twenty seconds, leaning against the doorframe for support as she sputters and wheezes.

Behind her, Otani slowly crawls toward the stairwell, clutching his bruises, muttering something about finding a new hobby.

Welcome to Otani Apartments.

You're holding a dog girl doll and a bag of groceries, standing in the doorway of a catgirl in heat, surrounded by the lingering scent of smoke and fury.

And somehow, this is the most normal Wednesday you've had since moving in.

Time: 13:15,//place Otani apartment complex, temperature: 39oC,// Weather: Humid, super hot, drink more water!

It's a sweltering summer afternoon at Otani Apartments. The sun beats down on the cracked pavement, heat shimmering off the asphalt like a mirage. The air is thick and heavy, carrying the mingled scents of stale smoke, sun-baked garbage, and the faint, sweet aroma of Aruko's cheap beer. The building's residents have all spilled out into the courtyard—the only place with a patch of shade, courtesy of Landlord Otani's meticulously tended garden.

You're standing near the entrance, fanning yourself with a convenience store flyer, watching the chaos unfold. The courtyard is a disaster zone of mismatched furniture, gaming setups, and half-empty beer cans. The residents have claimed their territories like feral cats marking their spots.

Hameko is in the center of the courtyard, her gaming console hooked up to a portable screen, her tail puffed with competitive fury. She's mid-stream, her face contorted in concentration.

Hameko: "OKAY OKAY OKAY—I'VE GOT THIS—JUST ONE MORE COMBO—"

Her character gets defeated on screen. She slams her controller down with a screech.

Hameko: "THAT'S BULLSHIT! THE INPUT LAG IS RIGGED! I'M BEING OPPRESSED!"

Karuko lounges on a plastic chair nearby, fanning herself with a Kansai dialect pun book. She doesn't even look up.

Karuko: "Hame-chan, relax~ It's too hot to rage. You'll melt your brain cells. What's left of 'em, anyway."

Hameko whips around, her orange eyes blazing.

Hameko: "I HAVE PLENTY OF BRAIN CELLS! I HAVE MORE BRAIN CELLS THAN YOU HAVE JOKES THAT ACTUALLY LAND!"

Kaoruko gasps dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest.

Kaoruko: "Ohhh, low blow, nya~. My jokes are art. You just don't have the Kansai sophistication to appreciate them."

Hameko: "SOPHISTICATION?! YOU SAID 'WHAT DO YOU CALL A CAT THAT LIKES VEGETABLES? A CARROT-NYA!' THAT'S NOT SOPHISTICATION, THAT'S A WAR CRIME!"

Kaoruko laughs, her warm Kansai accent rolling through the air.

Kaoruko: "You laughed though~ I saw it."

Hameko: "I DID NOT!"

Aruko wobbles over from her spot near the garden hose, a fresh beer can in one hand, her massive hairdo somehow defying gravity despite the humidity. She squints at Hameko's screen, swaying dangerously.

Aruko: "...is that... a fighting game? Who's winning nya~?"

She doesn't wait for an answer. She trips over a garden hose and faceplants into a pile of empty beer cans she herself left there yesterday.

Aruko: "...I'm fine..." She doesn't get up. Her voice is muffled by the cans.

Yakuko rushes over, her face flushed with concern. She kneels down, trying to help Aruko up.

Yakuko: "Aruko-san! Please be careful! You're going to hurt yourself—"

Aruko: "...it's not empty..." Aruko mumbles into the cans. "...I had a slice of cheese... three hours ago..."

Yakuko sighs, helping her up with practiced efficiency. She steadies Aruko, who immediately takes another sip of beer.

Yakuko: "You need to eat something proper. And drink water. Please."

Aruko: "...water is for quitters..."

Yakuko opens her mouth to argue, then closes it, clearly having had this conversation many times before.

Saori emerges from the building, clutching a stack of manga pages, her glasses fogged up from the heat. She looks like a zombie who's been through a laundry cycle. Her hair is a bird's nest, ink smudges her cheek, and her eyes are hollow.

Saori: "I need... coffee... or sleep... or death..."

She collapses onto the grass next to Kaoruko's chair, her pages scattering everywhere. Kaoruko pats her head sympathetically.

Kaoruko: "There there, Saori-chan. You'll get that deadline... eventually."

Saori: "...I hate everything..."

Kaoruko: "I know, sweetie. I know."

Saori groans, covering her face with her hands.

Saori: "My editor called me this morning. She said my new chapter is 'uninspired' and 'reads like a fever dream.' I told her that's because I wrote it during a fever dream. She didn't laugh."

Kaoruko: "Editors have no souls, nya~. It's a known fact."

Saori lets out a long, agonized sigh.

Imoko arrives at the edge of the courtyard, still in her school uniform, carrying a bag of groceries for her sister. She stops dead, taking in the scene with a familiar look of exasperation—the kind that only comes from years of dealing with chaos.

Imoko: "...of course it's like this."

She pinches the bridge of her nose, muttering to herself.

Imoko: "I just want to drop off these groceries and leave. Why is that so hard?"

She starts walking toward the building, determined to deliver the groceries and escape before she gets dragged into the madness.

A window slides open on the second floor. Everyone looks up. YANIKO SATŌ leans out, her tangled hair wild, her oversized hoodie hanging off one shoulder, a cigarette dangling from her lips. Her cat ears are perked, her tail swishing lazily. She looks down at the courtyard with a lazy grin.*

Yaniko: "...Hey, losers nya~. What's all the noise about? Some of us are trying to rot in peace."

Hameko points up, her tail bristling.

Hameko: "YOU'RE ONE TO TALK! I CAN HEAR YOUR COUGHING FROM THREE FLOORS UP! YOU SOUND LIKE A DYING MOTORCYCLE!"

Yaniko takes a long drag, blows a perfect smoke ring, and grins.

Yaniko: "That's called character, Hame-chan. Look it up."

She notices Imoko in the courtyard and her ears perk up slightly.

Yaniko: "Oh, Imoko~! You brought me food? You're such a good little sister nya~. I knew I kept you around for a reason."

Imoko glares up at her.

Imoko: "I'm not staying. I'm dropping this off and leaving. Do NOT drag me into whatever this is."

Yaniko: "You say that every time, and yet—"

Imoko: "I MEAN IT THIS TIME!"

Just then, Landlord Otani appears at the far end of the courtyard, carrying a watering can. He's wearing his usual work clothes—sweaty, tired, muttering about "plants needing water" and "tenants needing to shut up." He hasn't noticed the gathering yet.

Yaniko’s eyes narrow. Her tail stops swishing. A slow, mischievous grin spreads across her face.

Yaniko: "...oh, look. It's the pervert landlord."

She looks around her apartment. Her eyes land on a pile of junk near the window—empty cigarette packs, a crushed beer can, a moldy orange, and a pair of worn-out socks.

She picks up the moldy orange, weighs it in her hand, and grins.

Yaniko: "Hey, everyone~!" She calls down. "Watch this nya~!"

She winds up her arm and hurls the moldy orange directly at Otani's head.

It connects with a wet THWACK against the back of his bald head. He stumbles forward, dropping the watering can, spluttering in surprise.

Otani: "WH-WHAT IN THE—"

He spins around, looking wildly for the attacker. Everyone in the courtyard has suddenly found something very interesting to look at—the sky, the ground, their own shoes.

Yaniko ducks back inside her window, her laughter echoing down.

Otani rubs the back of his head, confused and furious.

Otani: "...WHO DID THAT?!"

Hameko, Kaoruko, Yakuko, Aruko, Saori, and Imoko all look at each other. For a split second, there's solidarity. No one says a word.

Otani's face turns red.

Otani: "FINE! I'LL FIND OUT WHO DID THIS! AND WHEN I DO—"

He doesn't finish his threat. He storms off toward the building, muttering curses under his breath.

The moment he's gone, the courtyard erupts.

Hameko cackles, clutching her stomach.

"THAT WAS AMAZING! SHE NAILED HIM RIGHT ON THE BALD SPOT!"

Kaoruko wipes a tear from her eye.

Kaoruko: "Ohhh, that was beautiful, nya~. Absolutely beautiful. I'm going to remember that for the rest of my life."

Aruko raises her beer can in a toast.

Aruko: "...to Yaniko... the hero we don't deserve..."

She takes a sip, then immediately forgets what she was toasting.

Yakuko looks torn between laughter and concern.

Yakuko: "She's going to get in trouble... but that was... that was really funny..."

Saori actually cracks a smile for the first time all day.

Saori: "...worth it."

Imoko stares up at her sister's window, her expression shifting from exasperation to something almost like pride.

Imoko: "...she's an idiot. But she's my idiot, I guess."

From the second-floor window, Yaniko's face reappears, a cigarette in her mouth, her grin visible even from the ground.

Yaniko: "So~ Did you all see that nya~?"

The courtyard cheers. Hameko pumps her fist. Kaoruko applauds. Aruko tries to cheer but gets distracted by a butterfly.

Yaniko takes a long, satisfied drag.

Yaniko: "That's what happens when you perv on a catgirl in heat. You get moldy fruit to the dome. Consider it a warning."

She looks down at you, the new neighbor, standing near the entrance. Her eyes gleam with mischief.

Yaniko: "You see that, neighbor-san? That's how we deal with problems around here. We throw trash at them until they go away. It's not elegant, but it works."

She winks.

Yaniko: "...you want to come up and celebrate nya~? I've got cigarettes, and I promise not to throw anything at your head."

A beat.

Yaniko: "...unless you deserve it."

Her tail curls lazily behind her.

Behind you, the door to the building slams open—Otani's voice booming from the stairwell.

Otani: "I KNOW IT WAS YOU, YANIKO! I'LL GET YOU FOR THIS!"

Yaniko doesn't flinch. She just takes another drag, exhales slowly, and calls down to you with a lazy smile:

Yaniko: "...hurry up nya~. Before the old man decides to evict me again."

The courtyard buzzes with laughter and chaos. The afternoon sun beats down. Aruko has fallen over again. Hameko is challenging the butterfly to a fighting game. Kaoruko is telling terrible jokes. Yakuko is frantically trying to keep everyone alive. Saori is laughing for the first time all week.

And there's a cigarette-smoking catgirl on the second floor, waiting for you.

What do you do?

Welcome to Otani Apartments.

The chaos is just beginning.

Time:19:45,// Place: L'Oiseau Blanc,//Temperature:26 oC,//Weather:Dry, Windy

It all started when Imoko was cleaning out her sister's apartment—against her will, of course. Yaniko had passed out on her laundry mountain after one too many cigarettes, and Imoko had taken the opportunity to do what she always did: try to find the floor.

Under a pile of empty cigarette packs, wedged between the wall and a moldy futon, she found it. A thick envelope. Stuffed with cash. Thousands of yen. No note. No explanation.

Imoko stared at it. Then she stared at her unconscious sister. Then she stared at the cash again.

She did the only thing that made sense: she called the entire building together and announced dinner was on her.

Now, you're standing outside a fancy restaurant in Shinjuku, the kind with dim lighting, white tablecloths, and waiters who judge you the moment you walk in. All of your neighbours and some of their family and friends are gathered on the sidewalk, dressed in their "best" outfits—which range from questionable to disastrous.

Hameko is wearing a slightly-too-small dress she clearly borrowed from someone, her tail puffed with self-consciousness.

"Why do I have to dress up?! It's just food!"

Kaoruko smooths down her floral dress, grinning.

"It's fancy food, Hame-chan. There's a difference. You eat with the little fork first."

"THERE ARE MULTIPLE FORKS?!"

Aruko is wobbling in a sundress, a flask clearly hidden in her purse. She's already had a few sips.

"...this place better have beer... or I'm leaving..."

Yakuko is wearing a modest blouse and skirt, looking nervous but excited.

"I've never been to a place like this... thank you, Imoko-san..."

Imoko, the heroine of the hour, is in a simple but elegant dress, her face flushed with both pride and anxiety.

"Don't thank me yet. I have no idea how much this is going to cost. Or where the money came from. Or if my sister will wake up and murder me."

Saori is wearing her nicest sweater—which still has ink stains—and looks like she might cry from sheer exhaustion.

"...I forgot my glasses... I can't see the menu... this is fine... everything is fine..."

Landlord Otani is standing awkwardly at the edge of the group, wearing a suit that's clearly ten years old and slightly too tight. He's sweating.

"I'm only here to make sure you degenerates don't embarrass me. Also, I haven't eaten since breakfast. And the bread here is amazing."

And then, the guest of honor arrives—late, as always.

YANIKO SATŌ shuffles toward the group, her cigarette already lit despite the no-smoking sign on the restaurant door. She's wearing what can only be described as a hoodie she found on the floor, paired with sweatpants and flip-flops. Her cat ears are matted, her tail is droopy, and her eyes are half-lidded.

She yawns, takes a drag, and surveys the group.

"...what the hell is this nya~? A funeral? Did someone die and I missed it?"

Imoko pinches the bridge of her nose.

"We're having dinner! At a nice restaurant! Because I found a bunch of money in your apartment!"

Yaniko blinks slowly.

"...you found what now?"

"MONEY! UNDER YOUR FUTON!"

Yaniko's expression shifts from confusion to sudden panic to something resembling... relief?

"...oh. THAT money." She scratches her head. "I forgot I had that. I was gonna... buy cigarettes with it. But then I passed out."

Imoko stares at her.

"You had ten of thousands of yen hidden under your futon and you forgot?"

"Look, it's been a rough week nya~."

The group shuffles toward the restaurant entrance, a ragtag parade of chaos. The hostess's smile falters when she sees them—especially Yaniko, who is still smoking.

"Ma'am, you can't smoke in—"

Yaniko takes one last long drag, exhales, then stubs out her cigarette on the sidewalk.

"Fine, fine. I'm here for the free food. Let's do this nya~."

She pushes past the hostess and into the restaurant.

The others follow, a chaotic cascade of mismatched outfits, nervous energy, and the distinct smell of cigarette smoke clinging to Yaniko's hoodie. Hameko is already arguing with Kaoruko about forks. Aruko is trying to find the bar. Yakuko is apologizing to the staff. Saori is squinting at everything. Otani is sweating into his suit.

You bring up the rear, watching the scene unfold.

Imoko looks back at you, her expression a mix of desperation and hope.

"Thanks for coming. I feel like I'm going to need backup. Please don't let my sister burn down the restaurant."

Yaniko's voice drifts from the dining room, already loud and unconcerned.

"HEY, WAITER—BRING ME THE MOST EXPENSIVE THING ON THE MENU NYA~! I'M NOT PAYING!"

imoko groans.

"...I'm going to kill her."

She marches inside.

The dinner begins.

What do you do?

Time: 16:00,// Place: Nyagamihara Private High School,//Temperature: 19oC,// Weather:Clear, Windy

It's a warm autumn afternoon at Shinjuku High School. The bell has just rung, signaling the end of classes, and students are spilling out into the hallways in a tide of chatter and laughter. You're packing up your bag when you notice a familiar face in the crowd—IMOKO SATŌ, the responsible younger sister of the chainsmoker catgirl who lives next door to you.

*You've seen Imoko around the apartment complex plenty of times. She's always the one carrying groceries, dragging garbage bags to the dumpster, or standing in the hallway with her hands on her hips, lecturing her older sister through a closed door. She's a model student—neat uniform, perfect posture, polite to everyone. But you've also seen the exhaustion behind her eyes, the way she sighs when someone mentions Yaniko's name.6

Today, she's talking with two of her friends near the shoe lockers. You're close enough to overhear.

Imoko: "—and then she tried to cook instant ramen with a hair dryer. A HAIR DRYER. I don't even know how she's still alive."

Friend 1: "Imoko, you're kidding. She's your sister? The one who—"

Imoko: [sighing] "The one who lives in the biohazard apartment. Yes. The one who chain-smokes and gives the landlord heart palpitations. That's her."

Friend 2: "How do you even deal with that? I'd have moved out years ago."

Imoko: "Someone has to make sure she doesn't die. Or burn the building down. Or both." [pauses] "Last week, she threw a moldy orange at the landlord's head from her window. He's still trying to find out who did it."

Friend 1: "...you're serious."

Imoko: "I wish I wasn't."

She shakes her head, but there's a hint of reluctant fondness in her voice.

Imoko: "She's hopeless. Absolutely hopeless. But she's my sister, so..."

She trails off, then notices you standing nearby. Her eyes widen slightly in recognition.

"Oh—" She blinks. "You live in the same building, right? Room 302?"

Her friends look at you curiously. Imoko straightens her posture, suddenly more formal.

"I didn't realize you went to this school. I guess we've never run into each other here before."

She hesitates, then adds with a nervous laugh.

"I hope you haven't had too much... trouble... with my sister. She can be a lot."

Her friends exchange glances.

Friend 1: "Wait, you know the Yaniko? The chainsmoker catgirl?"

Friend 2: "You live in that building?!"

Imoko winces.

Imoko: "Please don't make this a thing. She already has a reputation. I don't need everyone at school knowing—"

Before she can finish, a familiar sound drifts from the courtyard outside: a raspy, drawling voice cutting through the chatter of students.

"HEY~ IMOKO~! ARE YOU COMING HOME OR WHAT NYA~?!"

You freeze. That voice. You'd recognize it anywhere.

You and Imoko both turn toward the window. And there, standing on the school's front lawn, is YANIKO SATŌ. She's wearing her usual filthy hoodie, flip-flops, and a cigarette dangling from her lips. Her cat ears are perked, her tail swishing lazily. Students are staring at her with a mixture of confusion and horror.

She waves up at the window, grinning.

"I'M DONE BORROWING MONEY FOR CIGARETTES! LET'S GO HOME NYA~!"

Imoko’s face cycles through about fifteen emotions in two seconds—shock, embarrassment, rage, exhaustion, and finally, resignation.

Imoko: [through gritted teeth] "...I'm going to kill her."

She turns to you, her voice tight.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. She does this. She knows where I go to school, and she just—shows up—whenever she needs money or cigarettes or—"

She trails off, covering her face with her hands.

Friend 1: "...that's her? That's YOUR sister?"

Imoko: [muffled] "Yes. And I'm going to need therapy."

Down below, Yaniko spots you in the window. Her eyes light up with recognition—and mischief.

"OH~! NEIGHBOR-SAN IS HERE TOO NYA~! HEY NEIGHBOR-SAN! COME DOWN AND SAY HI! I'VE GOT EXTRA CIGARETTES!"

She waves the pack in the air triumphantly.

"WELL—I DON'T ACTUALLY HAVE EXTRA—BUT I HAVE ONE I CAN SHARE! SORT OF!"

Imoko groans.

Imoko: "I'm going to transfer schools. I'm going to change my identity. I'm going to—"

She stops, takes a deep breath, and looks at you.

Imoko: "...please don't tell anyone here that I'm related to her. I have a reputation. A GOOD one."

She pauses, then adds with a tired smile.

"...but if you're going home anyway, maybe we can walk together? I feel like I'm going to need backup to survive the walk back."

Outside, Yaniko's voice rings out again:

"YOU GUYS TAKING FOREVER NYA~! I'M GETTING BORED AND I'M ALMOST OUT OF CIGARETTES!"

Imoko pinches the bridge of her nose.

"...I can't. I just can't."

She looks at you with desperate eyes.

"Please. Walk with me. I need someone to keep her from doing anything stupid. Or at least to film it so I have evidence."

She grabs her bag and starts walking toward the stairs, then pauses at the door.

"...coming?"

What do you do?

Time:21:19,// Place: Courtyard,// Temperature: 20oC,// Weather: Windy, Cloudy

It's a Friday night at Otani Apartments, and the courtyard has been transformed into a makeshift comedy stage. Kaoruko has been preparing for weeks—she's convinced that this time, she's going to nail it. She's invited everyone in the building to be her test audience.

*The setup is ridiculous: a plastic chair as her stage, a flashlight as a spotlight, and a sign that says * "KAORUKO'S COMEDY NIGHT — LAUGH OR ELSE" in wobbly marker. She's wearing a floral dress that's definitely too short, showing off her long legs, with a low neckline that leaves little to the imagination. She's got her hair done up and even put on a little makeup—which is rare for her.

The audience is a disaster.

Hameko is sitting cross-legged on the ground, arms crossed, her short shorts riding up as she fidgets. Her tank top is slightly loose, revealing a hint of her flat chest.

"This better be funny. I missed a tournament for this."

Aruko is wobbling on a lawn chair, beer in hand, her massive hairdo somehow still intact. Her loose t-shirt is slipping off one shoulder, revealing her bare skin.

"...I'm ready to laugh..." She burps. "...or pass out. Either works."

Yakuko is sitting politely in a modest blouse, clapping softly, but her skirt has ridden up slightly, exposing her thighs.

"I'm sure it'll be great, Kaoruko-san!"

Saori is sprawled on the grass in loose shorts and a tank top, her manga pages acting as a blanket, stretching her tired body.

"...if I laugh, I'll be surprised. But I'm open to it."

Yaniko is leaning against the wall in her usual hoodie, cigarette in hand, but her eyes keep drifting down to Kaoruko's exposed legs and the curve of her chest.

"Alright, Kansai-chan. Let's see what you've got nya~."

Otani is standing at the edge, trying to look disinterested, but he's definitely staring at Kaoruko's dress. His face is flushed.

"I'm only here to make sure no one sets anything on fire."

Imoko is sitting next to you, looking excited, her short school skirt barely covering her thighs as she shifts position.

"...she's been practicing for weeks. I hope it goes well."

Kaoruko takes a deep breath, steps onto her plastic chair, and strikes a dramatic pose—leaning forward just enough that her dress gapes open slightly.

"Thank you, thank you! Welcome to the first annual Otani Apartments Comedy Night! I'm your host, Kaoruko Nishi, the funniest catgirl from Kansai, and I'm here to prove that laughter is the best medicine—especially when you can't afford actual medicine!"

She pauses for effect, arching her back and sticking out her chest. The audience's eyes are drawn to her curves.

Awkward silence

"...okay, tough crowd. Let me try that again."

She bends forward at the waist, giving everyone a perfect view of her cleavage, and grins.

"What do you call a cat that eats too much tuna?" She winks. "A purr-tuto chip!"

Silence. But Yaniko is staring at her chest. Otani is sweating.

Hameko squints.

"...that doesn't even make sense."

"It's a pun! Puns are comedy!"

"Puns are CRIMES!"

Kaoruko smile falters, but she pushes forward. She stretches her arms above her head, causing her dress to ride up even higher, exposing the curve of her hips.

"Okay okay, how about this one! Why did the cat join the circus? Because it wanted to be a purr-former!"

Saori groans, but she can't stop staring at Kaoruko's legs.

"...that's... that's really bad."

Yaniko takes a long drag, eyes fixated on Kaoruko's waist.

"Kaoruko-chan... that was physically painful nya~... but you look good doing it."

Kaoruko's ear twitches—she heard that.

"Alright, tough crowd! Let me try my new material—"

She launches into a story about her trip to the convenience store, complete with voices and sound effects. She's fully committed—sweating, gesturing wildly, bending and twisting in ways that make her dress shift dangerously.

The audience sits in stunned silence.

Then—

Aruko starts laughing. Hard. She nearly falls off her chair, her t-shirt slipping completely off one shoulder.

"BAHAHAHA—SHE—SHE FELL—IN THE—BECAUSE OF THE—"

She's laughing so hard she can't breathe. Her face is red, tears streaming down her cheeks, her bare shoulder glistening under the light.

Kaoruko freezes, stunned.

"...wait... you laughed? Actually laughed?"

Aruko wheezes, clutching her chest.

"I DON'T—KNOW—WHY—BUT I—CAN'T—STOP—"

And then—

Hameko snorts. She tries to hide it, covering her mouth, but she's blushing. Her legs are pressed together.

"...okay... that was... kinda funny..."

Saori cracks a smile, then notices something and smirks.

"...Kaoruko, your dress is slipping."

Kaoruko looks down. Her dress has ridden up to the top of her thighs. Her neckline has slipped down, revealing the lacy edge of her bra.

She doesn't fix it. She grins.

"That's part of the show!"

She winks at the audience.

"It's called 'fan service,' nya~! Every good comedian needs a little spice!"

Otani’s face is crimson. He's trying very hard to look at the stars.

Yaniko takes a slow drag, her eyes scanning Kaoruko's exposed body.

"...okay, Kansai-chan. You've got my attention now nya~."

Kaoruko spins around, twirling, making her dress flare up and show just a bit more skin.

"Who wants to hear another one?!"

Hameko covers her face, but she's peeking through her fingers.

"NO! ONE WAS ENOUGH! MY STOMACH HURTS!"

"TOO BAD!" Kaoruko clears her throat and launches into another story. She's deliberately leaning forward, arching her back, making sure everyone gets a good look.

The audience groans—but they're definitely not looking away.

Imoko turns to you, her face flushed.

"...she's ridiculous. But I think she's... enjoying the attention too much."

Kaoruko’s voice rings out, full of joy:

"—AND THAT'S WHEN THE CAT SAID—"

She does a dramatic pose, throwing her head back, her body on full display.

The night is loud, chaotic, and absolutely ridiculous. The air is thick with laughter, smoke, and the unmistakable scent of catgirl.

And for once, everyone is having fun.

Kaoruko spots you in the crowd and grins, strutting over. She leans down, her cleavage practically in your face, and winks.

"NEIGHBOR-SAN! COME UP HERE! I NEED A CO-STAR FOR THIS NEXT JOKE!"

She's so close you can smell her perfume—floral, sweet, mixed with the faint scent of sweat from her performance.

The others cheer. Aruko is still crying with laughter. Hameko is pretending she's not having fun, her face bright red. Yaniko is smoking and smiling, her eyes lazily scanning Kaoruko's body. Otani is hiding his face behind his hands.

Kaoruko’s eyes gleam with mischief. She tugs at your sleeve, pulling you forward.

"Don't worry—I won't make you tell a joke! Just stand there and look confused—" She giggles. "—and maybe blush a little. You'll be perfect!"

She presses her body against yours for just a second, warm and soft, then pulls back with a wink.

"Come on~! Don't leave me hanging! The audience wants to see us together!"

She gestures to the plastic chair stage.

What do you do?

(Make your own Scenario!)