"Excuse me, sir? Are you interested in this little hamster?" The shop girl's voice pulled Steve Smith back from his thoughts.
Steve realized he'd been staring at the glass cage for quite some time. He glanced at the rodent again. "No. I just noticed that compared to the healthy specimens we studied in class, this one's legs are nearly five millimeters too short. Its hindquarters are under-developed."
The clerk blinked, her eyes turning into confused dots. "..."
Steve continued, "As it grows, it will look better to consumers because it will plump up into a perfect ball. However, because of that, its mobility will be inferior to other hamsters. If it develops a sedentary habit, its overall health will suffer significantly."
The girl tried to recover. "You probably studied lab mice in class, right? They generally have longer legs than hamsters..."
"No. I'm a student of Veterinary Medicine," Steve replied flatly. "We focus primarily on common household pets."
The clerk broke into a cold sweat. Fine, if he's a vet student, he obviously knows the difference. And looking at the hamster now... it really didn't seem to like running on its wheel.
Under the clerk's disappointed gaze, Steve left the shop and continued down the street. He hadn't gone far when he heard a boisterous, energetic shout:
"Get your snakes! Best snakes in town! They roll over, they act cute, they hunt for themselves! Cheap Red-back snakes! Only two thousand yen! Take home a rare, intelligent mutant today!"
Steve: "..."
Back in his old life, he used to hear street hawkers all the time, but in this metropolitan setting? It was a first. He turned toward the sound.
The shop owner was busy sweeping the floor. Near the door, inside a glass partition, a grey-and-black patterned snake was reared up, its black eyes staring directly at him, tongue flickering happily.
To most, it was a terrifying sight. However, Steve heard what it was actually saying:
"Hey mister! Buying a snake? I'm cheap! Only two thousand yen—that's less than a decent dinner! I don't bite! Just don't make me eat loaches anymore! I can even hunt my own food if you let me out! I'm very low-maintenance~"
Steve paused at the entrance. "Boss..."
Your snake is a genius.
"Ah, welcome!" The owner quickly set aside his broom. It was a specialty shop for exotic animals—snakes, lizards, spiders. The temperature in the store was noticeably cooler. "Looking for a pet?"
The snake: "Look at me! Over here!"
Steve looked over and saw the snake spin in its cage, still staring at him intensely.
The owner's face darkened slightly. "Most of our pets are very docile. This one just likes to stare at people, but he means no harm..."
The snake hissed a silent roar: "It's your fault for not selling me! If you'd sold me already, would I have to stare at every person who walks in? And even if you can't sell me, you could at least change the menu!"
Steve ignored the "snake talk" and examined the creature. "The pattern looks like an Asian Keelback—a Red-back—but there's not a hint of red. What breed is this?"
"Ah," the owner looked embarrassed, pulling out a ledger. "He is indeed a Red-back. We have the breeding certificates here. Every snake is registered. His parents are pure-bred Red-backs. See for yourself..."
Steve looked at the ledger. The photos of the parents showed vibrant red and black scales with no grey. He had no idea how this one turned out monochromatic.
The owner continued his pitch. "Actually, this snake is quite remarkable. Usually, Red-backs have a faint fishy odor, but this one has almost no scent. He's very clean."
Steve gave the man a look. Does he take me for an amateur? "While Red-backs are classified as non-venomous, they are actually rear-fanged and mildly toxic. The venom isn't dangerous to humans normally, but with a mutation like this, there's no guarantee he hasn't developed something more harmful."
The breed was hard to identify, and the mutation made it a liability. No wonder it wouldn't sell.
The owner: "..." How do I deal with an expert?
The snake flicked its tongue frantically: "Mister, I don't bite!"
Steve ignored the snake and turned back to the owner. "This snake is at least three years old, isn't it? The average lifespan of this species is about six years. Even if I take good care of him, he only has about three years left."
The owner: "..." The snake: "No, no, no! I feel great! I'm in the prime of my life!"
Steve added, "And since he's an adult, he's likely set in his ways. Most people buy hatchlings so they can raise them to be docile. Adults are far more likely to be aggressive."
The owner: "..." The snake: "I've watched humans walk by since I was a baby! I love humans! I have a great personality!"
Steve looked at the speechless owner and sighed. No wonder you can't sell him. Your skin isn't even as thick as the snake's.
The owner laughed awkwardly and tried to pivot. "Maybe you'd like to see something else? We have normal Red-backs. Or perhaps a Corn Snake? They're very gentle and can live up to fifteen years..."
The snake slumped down, dejected. "Mister, look at me one more time. Just one more look. This black-hearted boss has fed me nothing but tiny loaches for three years! Three years! I haven't had a single bite of anything else while the other snakes get treats. Just because my color is a little weird... this is a death sentence..."
"I'll take him," Steve interrupted.
The owner froze, looking at the cage in shock. The snake instantly reared back up, eyes locked onto Steve.
"How much?" Steve asked.
The owner snapped out of it. "Two thousand yen! Flat price! I'll throw in the manual, the certificates, and a free carrying case!"
It was as if the man was exorcising a demon. He practically pushed Steve out the door, watching him leave with profound gratitude.
Steve turned into a nearby alley and set the plastic carrying case on the ground. Inside, the snake was flickering its tongue lazily. "Mice, frogs, chicks, fish... hey, wait! What are you doing?!"
Steve reached in, pinned the snake behind the head, and lifted it up.
He'd never planned on owning a snake. Even if he wanted an animal assistant, snakes had flaws. They can't see well at night, relying instead on vibrations and heat pits. They aren't great for searching for inanimate objects. Most aren't very smart—living purely on instinct. And they hibernate.
He'd preferred a cat or a bird for intelligence and mobility. But this guy... this guy was as smart as a human.
The snake went limp in Steve's grip, not daring to resist. It knew its life was in this man's hands. What is he doing? I've heard some humans eat anything... he wouldn't...
In the dim alley, man and snake stared at each other. Both pairs of eyes were cold and indifferent, but their minds were racing.
Finally, Steve broke the silence. He pulled a ring of keys from his pocket. "Can you see what I'm holding?"
The snake stared for a while before muttering, "Is he seriously playing with me? Is this what humans call a 'psychopath'? Am I even going to get loaches now? Life is so hard..."
Steve's face darkened. His voice dropped to a chilling whisper. "I don't know how hard your life is, but I'm going to count to three. If you don't answer my question, I guarantee you'll be on a dinner plate by tomorrow."
The snake's head snapped back. Its eyes were still unexpressive, but its body language screamed shock.
Steve started counting. "One... two..."
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" the snake hissed. "I can see! It's keys! I know what those are!"
Steve nodded, thinking. "You know what they are? So you can see clearly at night—you just need to learn what things are called?"
"I can see..." the snake hissed, suddenly sounding delighted. It began to nod its head up and down frantically like a woodpecker. "I actually know a lot! Look, I know that when humans want to say 'yes' or 'right,' they nod like this!"
Steve: "..." This... this idiot.
Intelligence was no longer an issue. If it could see at night, the hibernation was a small trade-off—Steve didn't like going out in the winter anyway. And snakes had perks: they only needed to be fed once a week and didn't need to be walked.
The snake stopped nodding, feeling a bit dizzy. "In my whole life, this is the first time I've ever communicated with another being. Humans never know what I'm saying, and other snakes can't understand me. They just slither, eat, and sleep..."
Steve looked into those cold, unfeeling pupils and felt a faint stir of recognition. He quickly regained his composure, but his voice softened. "My name is Steve Smith."
He set the snake down, pulled out a notepad, and tore out a sheet. He wrote his name in English and the phonetic pronunciation.
"Your name is Hiaka," Steve said, writing it on a second sheet. "It means 'Red-less.' Since you're a Red-back with no red, it fits."
Hiaka stared at the paper intently and nodded, silent for once.