It’s been a few days since I gave Mashiro a smartphone to keep in touch with her.

In fact, I don’t know anything about Mashiro’s age.

I understand that cats and humans have very different growth cycles and lifespans.

However, I’m not sure if Mashiro, who called herself half human and half cat, fit into either of those categories.

When I start to think about it, I realize that I know very little about Mashiro.

I don’t know anything about Mashiro’s body, and I don’t know anything about her past.

Of course, I’m not going to go out of my way to pry into that.

When the day comes where Mashiro is willing and able to tell me, I would listen to her as if we were making small talk..that’s all.

“Mashiro, what are you looking at?”

“Ah, eh. Well..I was looking at a cooking recipe.”

I was curious because she was staring at her phone more intently than usual, so I asked her about it, and she gave me a surprisingly normal answer.

However, if it was the cooking recipe that she was staring at so intently, I wondered if it was a very difficult dish.

Of course I’m looking forward to it, but as usual I’m wondering if she’s pushing herself too hard.

“By the way, may I ask what kind of dish it is?”

“Ehhh. W-Well..”

When I asked, Mashiro choked on her words, which was unusual for her, and stammered.

I wondered if it was something difficult to say. I have nothing to say about what Mashiro makes, I am grateful for it.

“Well, Satou-san, was there anything you wanted to eat?”

“Eh, me?”

As I waited for her words with a bit of curiosity, she replied with a question of her own.

“I will eat anything Mashiro makes for me.”

It was a little surprising even to me that I couldn’t immediately come up with an answer to the question of my favorite dish.

Before Mashiro’s arrival, I frequently ate bento boxes of fried food and grilled salmon, but if you ask me if they were my favorite dishes, I don’t think so.

“..Which do you prefer, Japanese food or Western food?”

“Well, Japanese food.”

“How about fish or meat?”

“Well, if I had to say, I’d say fish.”

Mashiro was staring at her phone, muttering, “I see..”

I wondered if she was taking notes on my preferences, but it didn’t look like she was.

I don’t know the truth behind the question, but it makes me happy to see that she was using the phone I gave her.

Initially, I wanted to use it to communicate with her when something happened, but once she started using it, I found many unexpectedly useful situations.

For example, when I go shopping on my way home from work.

Before, I used to ask Mashiro what I was going to buy in advance and write a note on it before heading to the supermarket.

However, in front of the power of civilization that was the smartphone, this was no longer necessary.

I could now just ask Mashiro to send me a shopping memo via message, and I can go buy it on the same day we need it.

Incidentally, the messages sent by Mashiro are in the same plain tone as usual, but recently she has been sending me more and more messages back with pictograms and stickers.

In addition to that, many of the messages she sends me have cute pictures of cats on them, which makes them even more adorable.

Mashiro may be doing it naturally, but when I see a cute stamp of a smiling cat with a line attached, I can’t help but replace it with Mashiro and replay it in my brain.

As you can see in this stamp, I imagine Mashiro saying something like, “Okay,” or “Thank you,” and I smile to myself.

To sum it up, I was undoubtedly just a creep.

After that, Mashiro continued to ask me various questions as if it were a questionnaire, and Mashiro checked my answers on her phone.

Towards the end, she asked me some questions that didn’t have much to do with cooking, but I answered honestly as she asked me with a very serious face.

“Satou-san, do you find homely women attractive?”

“Y-Yeah, I guess so.”

“Do you feel attracted to a woman in an apron?”

“Huh? That question has to do with cooking..”

“Please answer.”

“T-To be honest, I think it’s pretty good..”

It was clearly a question that was not in line with the norm, but Mashiro’s pressure made me speak my mind.

And she didn’t notice, muttering “I see” again and operating her phone.

No, what the heck was that supposed to mean? Wasn’t this just a food preference questionnaire?

I was afraid that they were going to ask me a lot of questions about my s*xual k*nks, but that seemed to be the last question, and I survived.

Mashiro, satisfied with the information she had obtained, walked lightly to the kitchen.

I don’t know how to feel about this, but as long as Mashiro was happy, I didn’t really care.

As I watched Mashiro cooking from behind while wagging her tail rhythmically, I was filled with anticipation for the contents of this evening’s dinner.