Kuroba Akira had no idea when exactly he'd acquired the talent.
Had it been imprinted during that handshake just now?
Either way, what mattered was that now, he had a talent.
And in this moment, he finally understood what it felt like to possess one.
The first thing he noticed was his improved memory. Not only could he recall things he'd read or seen before, he could now even remember the finer details.
At this point, anything that used to take several rounds of repetition to memorize—he could probably lock it down in a single go.
His concentration had also soared—no longer drifting off because of boredom or idle thoughts.
His comprehension had skyrocketed too. Even without anyone explaining things to him, he could easily break down concepts, summarize key points, and connect the dots.
And above all else—he felt confident. As if all the things that once felt out of reach were suddenly within his grasp.
Or rather, he now had an urge to try, to take a shot.
On the surface, there were no visible changes. But inside, the shift was nothing short of transformational.
It reminded him of the "10,000-hour rule"—the idea that so-called "geniuses" aren't born, but made. That anyone could become exceptional with 10,000 hours of focused practice.
To which Akira could only say: What utter bullshit.
Geniuses do exist. And they reach the top in far less than 10,000 hours.
Still, now that his cheat ability had gone live, Akira found himself… hesitating.
With talent like this, he could probably make a name for himself in any number of fields. As long as he stood out, he could avoid being worked to death like in his last life.
So... should he give up the idea of mooching?
No, not yet. There was no guarantee how long a copied talent would last. He couldn't gamble his entire future on something so uncertain.
For all he knew, washing his hands could wipe the letters right off his palm.
He trusted his cautious self far more than some borrowed cheat code.
Mulling over all this and that, Akira finally arrived near home.
He took his usual riverside route through the residential area—his morning jogging path—when he saw a cat under a streetlamp.
"Meow!"
The moment it spotted him, it gave a loud cry.
"Oh, Blacktail… Were you waiting for me?"
"Meow~" It sounded like a yes.
Blacktail was the same cat he'd met on his very first day after transmigrating: snow-white from head to toe, with just the tail tipped in black.
Though technically a stray, it was always immaculately clean—even its paw pads were still pink. Didn't look like it had ever lived rough.
Blacktail often came by Granny Kobayashi's place to mooch a meal, so Akira had grown familiar with it.
Still, the cat never let anyone pet it. Try to touch it, and you'd eat a claw. Akira had bled more than once from those swipes.
At first, he'd wondered if the cat was supernatural—after all, Kobayashi-san's late husband had mentioned in his will something about "those led back by Blacktail." Maybe there really was something mystical about it.
But Akira, in both lives, had always been a staunch materialist. He believed anything science couldn't explain was just something science hadn't yet figured out.
And if transmigration was possible, then a demon cat wasn't all that far-fetched.
But the more he observed Blacktail, the more it seemed like nothing more than a very smart cat. It wasn't about to stand on two legs and start talking like that one in Team Rocket.
So maybe it hadn't "led" him at all. Maybe its territory simply included the area around here, and it had brought a strange human to a trusted ally—Granny Kobayashi.
In any case, best not to fantasize about it transforming into some cute catgirl…
Nekomimi waifus… not happening! (Sigh)
"Meow meow meow! Meow meow meow!"
Blacktail jumped down from the short wall around someone's yard, landing at Akira's feet and meowing away.
Following its gaze, Akira realized it was staring at the milk carton in his hand.
"What? You've got your eye on this milk?"
"Meow~" As if to say, Yup.
What a glutton. You're not even a kitten anymore—why are you still into milk?
Akira didn't particularly want to drink the now-lukewarm bottle himself, and he didn't really mind giving it to Blacktail. But still… he found himself arguing with a cat.
"Nope. This was a gift from the class rep."
"Meow?!"
Blacktail's expression turned scandalized. Even its tail bristled straight up.
"You think cuteness is a valid currency, huh? Little kitty, let me teach you something about the cruelty of this world. If you want something tasty, you have to offer something in return."
"Meow meow meow meow meow!"
Akira got the distinct impression it was cursing him out—loudly and creatively—but alas, he didn't speak cat.
"Meow meow…" Blacktail finally let out a low, resigned mewl, like it was saying, Fine, whatever.
Then it patted his leg with one paw, turned, walked a few steps ahead, and looked back.
Akira recognized the signal.
Huh? Got something for me again?
What could a cat even offer? A dead mouse?
Still, he couldn't help but remember that on his very first day here, following this same cat had led him to tsundere-in-disguise Granny Kobayashi—and had saved him from sleeping on the streets.
Maybe this time there'd be another surprise.
Tempted by the promise of another lucky break, Akira decided to take the scenic route home.
He followed Blacktail past the residential area and into a wooded patch, where he came across the entrance of a shrine.
He'd lived nearby for nearly half a year and never even noticed it.
So there's a shrine around here?
Judging by the peeling paint and the missing chunk in the torii gate, it must have been abandoned for a while.
Blacktail walked ahead, passed under the torii, and headed into the shrine grounds. As a proud materialist, Akira wasn't afraid of the dark—let alone ghosts—so he followed without hesitation.
Climbing the stone steps, passing along the pathway, he finally came face to face with a dilapidated haiden—the shrine's main hall.
And there, atop the saisenbako, the offering box, was a silhouette.
The sky was cloudless tonight, and the moon was bright.
Bathed in its silver light, the figure seemed almost shrouded in mist.
Was she a fairy dwelling in a forgotten shrine? A god?
…Or maybe just a high school girl who'd run away from home.
After all, she was still wearing a sailor uniform.
But what really made Akira freeze in place, unable to look away, was—
She was stunningly beautiful.
The kind of beauty that reminded him of all those absurd, overused phrases from his past life's Japan: a once-in-a-millennium beauty, the kind they threw around for every new idol. Usually exaggerated to hell.
But this time… the phrase felt earned.
Her fair, flawless face was devoid of expression. Hair and eyes as dark as night. A delicate nose. Cherry blossom–pink lips. So gorgeous it felt unreal—yet also lifeless, as if carved from moonlight.
She sat quietly on the steps, still and serene like a windless sea. No ripples. As if she'd melded perfectly into the ruined shrine behind her.
Like a goddess fallen to earth.
So beautiful, I forgot to breathe…
"Meow meow, meow meow meow?"
Blacktail's meows snapped Akira out of his daze.
Looking down, he saw the cat's smug little face—as if saying, Well? Pretty good find, huh?
Yeah… damn good. But not enough.
Recalling the flirting tips he'd just been reviewing in his head, Akira stepped forward.
And then opened his mouth and said—
"Hey beautiful. Wanna come home with me?"
…Using the worst pickup line imaginable.