The sun had barely risen when Artemis and Diana boarded the train with Usagi and Chibiusa. The field trip to the countryside was supposed to be a bonding experience—a time for laughter, exploration, and simple joys.
Artemis watched Diana chase butterflies in the tall grass, her laughter a bell in the wind. For once, everything felt… perfect.
Back in Tokyo, Luna sat at the window, watching the world move on without her. She’d offered to stay behind—someone had to keep an eye on things. But now, the silence in the house echoed. Artemis hadn’t even looked back when he left. He trusted her. Maybe too much.
The silence was broken that evening.
A tomcat with smoky fur and ember eyes slinked through the alley. He looked at her like he knew all her secrets—and wanted to uncover more. She told herself it was harmless. Just talk. Just company.
But the loneliness in her chest howled louder than her reason.
It happened once.
Then twice.
Then she lost count.
The toms came and went like shadows in the night. She told herself she was still in control. That Artemis would understand. That it didn’t mean anything.
But one day, Luna couldn’t get up.
Her body ached. Her mouth was dry. Her reflection was a stranger—eyes sunken, fur matted. When Artemis returned, the scent of another tom still lingered faintly in the air.
He didn’t say a word. He saw her curled on the rug, trembling, and simply called for Usagi.
The vet’s diagnosis was swift, clinical, cold.
Feline STD.
The words hung in the air like a storm cloud.
Usagi sobbed in the waiting room. Artemis stood rigid, as if struck by lightning. Diana didn’t understand why Papa’s voice cracked when he asked, “How could you?”
Luna couldn’t meet his eyes.
“I was lonely,” she rasped. “I thought you’d forgotten me.”
His silence was more brutal than any scream. He turned to leave.
“Don’t take Diana—please…”
“She’s my daughter,” Artemis said without looking back. “She doesn’t need to learn betrayal this young.”
The door clicked shut behind him.
Days turned into weeks.
No more toms came. The city seemed to have forgotten her. Only Usagi remained—gentle, loyal, brushing her fur and humming lullabies that once comforted the whole family.
Luna took her medicine. She learned to live with her illness. But nothing dulled the ache.
She passed Diana once in the park. The kitten looked up, confused, but Artemis turned her gently away.
They didn’t speak.
And so Luna lived on—not in redemption, but in reckoning.
Every night she looked at the moon, her namesake, and wondered how something so bright could feel so far away.
—
The story was generated by an AI software, according to my imagination.
