Holding the box of cat remains, I made my way to the girls washroom on the other end of the hallway.

I passed through the door and found a couple girls chatting away while they reapplied their makeup.

I counted eight stalls and chose the very last one as the starting point for my plan.

Like a trail of breadcrumbs, I started laying down bits of ash starting from the toilet seat, leading outward from underneath the stall's door.

Then I gingerly spread the ash around the girl's washroom in a winding path, just in case the girls who were present accidentally smudged the main trail.

Even though I was right behind them, the girls were oblivious to my presence and didn't notice the seemingly magical appearance of ashy dust on the surface of the washroom floor.

I also smudged the underside of the entrance to the girl's washroom, leaving a pair of cat-sized paw prints at the door's heel.

Once outside I continued to lay down the trail until it led back to Tomoya's classroom.

Inside the class, I slowly and carefully spread a very thin line of ash back to the former cat owner's desk.

The girl in question was too engrossed in the lesson to notice that her precious Ayame's remains had disappeared from her school bag.

The trail ended just behind her seat, where I smudged the ground underneath her chair, so that a cat-shaped imprint was clearly visible, like a permanent shadow.

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

Luckily, no one noticed anything so far.

Except Tomoya.

I could feel the heat of his furious glare all the way from the back of the classroom. But, I pretended not to notice him and grinned with satisfaction as I swiftly moved on to the second stage of my plan by heading back to the girl's washroom.

When I re-entered the girl's washroom, the makeup brigade was still chatting away. It seems like they have no intention of returning to class.

Not that I blame them.

I don't even need to sleep, but listening to that old fogey drone on and on made me feel light-headed.

While they weren't students from my class, they were obviously from the same grade and had similar travails.

And although they weren't originally part of my plan, I'll definitely put these truant girls to good use.

I returned to the last stall and pulled a geometry kit from my blazer's breast pocket.

The divider I chose was brand new and extra sharp.

I used it to claw a set of words on the back of the washroom stall.

After ten minutes of painstaking work, I stepped back and sighed with satisfaction.

I made my way back to Tomoya's class and floated towards the center, readjusting my position until I felt that I had the perfect view of the drama that was about to unfold.

When the bell rang, marking the beginning of the short, mid-morning break, the teacher jotted down an itemized list of homework assignments that left the class groaning in frustration.

While the cat owner opened her bag and packed up her books and stationery, she noticed something was missing.

A look of horror besmirched her face.

She didn't say or do anything. She simply sat there stunned, with her bag open and its contents scattered on her desk.

A minute or so later, her two close friends approached her.

"What's wrong Noriko-chan? You look pale."

Noriko was still staring blankly into the depths of her school bag.

One of her friends nudged her shoulders and quietly asked, "Tell us what's wrong Noriko-chan, so we can help you. Haven't we been friends since kindergarten? Whatever it is, you can talk to us."

Noriko finally lifted her head up.

Her eyes were glassy as she spoke, "I-it's gone... Ayame... left me."