Welcome to the Kokoro Cat Clinic

Book 3: We'll Prescribe You a Cat

by Syou Ishida

Genres: General Fiction; Animals; Family Life; Literary Fiction

Synopsis

Cats once again prove to be the best medicine in the wonderful third book following the award-winning, bestselling Japanese novel We’ll Prescribe You a Cat.

When you are lost, the Kokoro Clinic for the Soul will find you.

Dr. Nikké and his clinic are always ready to offer their unconventional approach to healing. Although one never quite understands how they ended up there, each person who has walked through the door has left with a cat and a deeper understanding of themselves. Every time, the clinic reaffirms that the unbreakable bond between cats and people has the potential to heal and transform lives.

With Dr. Nikké as the constant that weaves each of these stories together, we meet a woman anxious about an upcoming competition, an overwhelmed young father, an illustrator questioning her career, and a young woman burdened with guilt. Digging ever deeper into the complicated minds of humans—and the love of their feline companions—this poignant, episodic novel provides something richer and more challenging than mere comfort: compassion.

Release date: September 22, 2026

Publisher: Berkley

Print pages: 336

Sample

1

Bena

Nakagyō Kokoro Clinic for the Soul. On the fifth floor of a building located east of Takoyakushi Street, south of Tominokoji Street, west of Rokkaku Street, north of Fuyacho Street, Nakagyō Ward, Kyoto.

Since 8 a.m. on Saturday, Fūko Hatta had been wandering narrow streets laid out like a Go board. Knowing the names of the main streets in Kyoto was usually enough to find your way around, even if you didn't know the name of the district. Rokkaku Street was about a ten-minute walk from Kyoto Station on Shijō Street. If she continued on this path, she was bound to reach her destination.

That's what she'd thought, but the building was nowhere to be found. She glanced at her watch-it was almost nine. She'd been circling the same area for nearly an hour now.

Fūko had been born and raised in Kyoto, and while she'd been to this neighborhood plenty of times to shop, it was rare for her to come here on a Saturday morning. There wasn't much pedestrian traffic, even on the usually bustling shopping streets of Shinkyōgoku and Teramachi. Convenience stores were about the only businesses that were open. At first, Fūko found the emptiness of the shopping district refreshing, and she wandered leisurely, as if taking a stroll.

But soon, her composure gave way to impatience.

What she was looking for was a psychiatric clinic on the fifth floor of some building. She had heard that at this very popular clinic there was a talented and handsome doctor who would take your concerns seriously, no matter how small they might seem.

It was the first time she had considered visiting any sort of mental health facility. After Fūko had posted on her social media that she was feeling a little down, a friend had told her about the Nakagyō Kokoro Clinic for the Soul. The doctor's good looks weren't important. What drew Fūko in was the idea that he might inspire her and give her the push she needed. If she could get a seal of approval from a doctor, surely she wouldn't mess up.

She'd been keen to schedule an appointment, but the clinic's contact information was nowhere to be found. Her extensive online search yielded nothing, and the friend who had recommended the clinic had only heard about it through secondhand accounts.

So, she thought, she would just have to walk in. She knew that most clinics began seeing patients at nine in the morning, so she figured that if she arrived shortly before opening time, they might squeeze her in between appointments. It was why she'd woken up so early on her day off to make this special trip into the city.

Yet time had flown while she'd been searching for the building. She looked at her watch again: it was already past nine.

Standing in the middle of the street, she felt disappointment washing over her. Could she have got the address wrong?

Shops were beginning to open. Saturday brunch at a café in one of the traditional town houses sounded delightful, but Fūko was not in the mood. Her original plan had been to spend this weekend rehearsing.

As she was about to head back to Gion-Shijō Station, she spotted a small alley between the buildings. It was so narrow that the sun's pale morning rays couldn't reach it. The ground was damp, as if it had rained only on that spot.

She squinted at the back of the alley, where a five-story building stood wedged between two tall structures. At that moment, she was on either Tominokoji or Fuyacho Street, or possibly Takoyakushi or Rokkaku Street. Warily, she decided to explore the alley.

"It couldn't be anywhere around here, could it?"

And yet it seemed she had arrived at her destination.

She must have overlooked it, because she'd felt certain the building would be street facing, and it didn't look remotely how she'd imagined. It was so dark and gloomy for a block that was supposedly home to a popular clinic.

Walking slowly up to the entrance, she noticed that the front door stood open. In the dim light, she could make out a hallway extending toward the depths of the building. From where she stood, it was impossible to tell how many patients might be waiting for their appointments. There was even a chance the clinic might already be fully booked that morning.

No harm in checking, she thought. Fūko began to climb the stairs. There it was: the Nakagyō Kokoro Clinic for the Soul, housed in a unit up on the fifth floor. There didn't seem to be any patients outside the door, which looked slightly grim, with its peeling paint and sturdy metal.

Is this a strictly appointment-only, no-walk-ins kind of place after all?

Feeling resigned, she pulled on the door. Perhaps the metal fittings were loose, because it swung open with just a light tug.

As she poked her head through the doorway, her eyes alighted on a simple and tidy-looking space. In front of her was a small reception window, suggesting the clinic's compactness.

She still could not see any patients. Wondering if they might be farther inside, Fūko craned her neck, then heard the pitter-patter of slippers. A nurse appeared. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, about Fūko's age. Beautiful, with long, narrow eyes and a graceful nose. She had a sharp expression.

"Yes, can I help you?"

"Um, I-"

"You're a patient, aren't you? Please come in," said the nurse, without waiting for a response. She glanced toward the back of the room.

They're probably going to fit me in between appointments, thought Fūko.

She stepped inside, relieved she hadn't been turned away. She looked around, expecting to find a line of other patients, but there was no one.

Where should I wait for my turn? she wondered, glancing at the single armchair. She pushed open the only door and found herself in a room with a folding chair and a desk with a computer. This can't be the waiting room. She gently closed the door.

Then the nurse called out from behind her.

"Yes, that's right. The examination room."

"But I don't have an appointment."

"The patient with an appointment hasn't come yet. Do go ahead."

Fūko felt a little thrill at how easily she would be seen by the doctor. She never imagined that she wouldn't have to wait at all.

Then doubts began to surface.

I walk into a well-known psychiatric clinic, and yet there's not a single patient in sight. Could I have got incorrect information?

What she'd heard from her friend was just hearsay.

"Um, this is a psychiatric clinic, right?"

"I don't know about such things."

"Huh?" Fūko's eyes widened. The nurse didn't seem to be joking. Her well-defined face showed no hint of a smile. She remained cool and distant.

"Please go in. The doctor will follow shortly."

The nurse exuded an energy that brooked no argument. Her forcefulness confounded Fūko. She stepped into the examination room as instructed. It was indeed a simple room, too sparse for any kind of medical practice.

She sat in the folding chair, waiting. After a few seconds, the curtains in the back parted, and a doctor in a white lab coat appeared. Unlike the nurse, he had a beaming smile.

"Hello there! It's your first time here, isn't it?"

Fūko was momentarily tongue-tied. Is this the talented and handsome doctor everyone's talking about?

She wouldn't have called him handsome, exactly, but he definitely had a kind face. His demeanor was friendly, and he spoke with a gentle Kyoto accent. He seemed a bit young to be a renowned doctor, though. Not more than thirty, thought Fūko.

The nurse's response had made Fūko wonder if she was in the wrong place. It was a little late to worry about that now, but, feeling uneasy, Fūko asked, "Is this the Nakagyō Kokoro Clinic for the Soul?"

"It is. Cool name, right? Sometimes known as the Kokoro Cat Clinic. My own doctor's name is Kokoro Suda, and I borrowed his name without asking. The real Dr. Kokoro's clinic is just around the back, on the other side of this building. Oh, but don't worry-we're not 'fake' or anything. By the way, how did you hear about us?"

The doctor was the one asking questions now.

Real, not fake . . . what on earth does he mean? Fūko was too astonished to respond.

Noticing her silence, the doctor tilted his head to one side.

"Oh? Can't you remember? Have the rumors about our clinic spread so far that we no longer know their source? Oh no! What should we do? It'll be a huge problem if we become too popular. The rumor mill is churning, isn't it? Churning, churning like crazy!"

"M-maybe . . . ?"

"I see. This could well be a problem. Is my clinic trending? Well, even if it is, it's just the two of us, nurse and me, running this tiny operation. We're not accepting new patients. On top of it all, I'm currently extremely sleepy. I'm-how do you say it?-crepuscular? My eyes fly open at daybreak, so I get drowsy around this time. But since you've come all this way, I'll make an exception for you. What's your name and how old are you?"

"Err."

Fūko was still tongue-tied.

The doctor narrowed his eyes, unmoving, as if he were straining to keep his eyes open. Surely what he'd said about being sleepy was a joke, but based on how the conversation had been going, she'd assumed he'd been about to turn her away. Yet it appeared that that wasn't the case.

"My name is Fūko Hatta, and I'm twenty-seven."

"What brings you in today, Fūko?"

The consultation seemed to have started. Although it was not proceeding in the way she had expected, the doctor appeared ready to hear what she had to say. Fūko reached into her bag and took out a stack of documents.

She started to feel nervous. Am I going to be able to explain this clearly enough? she thought. "So, um, I've blacked out the parts I can't share," she said, finding her words.

She was planning to read from a tablet while projecting the presentation materials, but she had also printed copies as a backup in case of technical issues and had used a marker to carefully redact any details she couldn't disclose to outsiders.

That was to say, almost everything was blacked out.

By the time she had removed the proper names, numbers, and graphs, all that remained were meaningless connecting words.

But without the actual document in her hands, it didn't feel real. Fūko rose from her seat. The examination room was so cramped she ended up looming over the doctor.

"On Monday, I have to give a presentation in front of the president as part of a company competition. Like this, but in an auditorium full of people."

She held her documents and stretched out her arms as if presenting a diploma. The stack of papers nearly brushed the doctor's head.

"Whoa there," said the doctor, ducking out of the way. "You're putting a lot of energy into this. A presentation, eh? That's very cool."

"It's not cool at all."

Fūko pulled back her arms. The room was so small it was almost impossible to have a proper conversation while standing. Besides, she seemed to be getting too worked up. She clutched the papers to her chest and sat down.

"I'm sorry. I'm just so nervous that I got a little overexcited."

"I understand. It's like a switch turns on and the excitement gushes out. It happens to me, too-when that switch suddenly flips, I find myself dashing around the room."

Dashing? In this tiny space?

Fūko glanced around. She could reach the back of the room in two or three steps.

No, he must be joking about this, too. He's just reflecting back what I said to help me calm down. With this doctor, I feel I could share even my most trivial problems.

She loosened her grip on the stack of papers she had been clutching to her chest.

"I work in the Accounts department at a company that deals in miscellaneous goods. A little while ago, the company announced this competition, inviting all employees to pitch new product ideas. I worked really hard on my proposal, and it got selected."

"Wow, that's amazing!"

"Not really. I just made it through to the preliminary selection before the final round. Whether or not my idea is adopted hinges on the upcoming presentation."

The doctor gave a small laugh.

"It's a chance to show off your idea. That's great, isn't it?"

Fūko shook her head.

"It's not great at all."

Since the day her proposal had been selected a month ago, she had felt sick to her stomach.

Even now, her guts churned.

"I hate being the center of attention. Just the thought of presenting solo in front of an audience makes my legs tremble. I wanted to back out, but my manager insisted that, since I'd volunteered, I should see it through to the end. But I didn't volunteer-I only did it as part of my job. I'm not even in sales. A presentation like this is too much for me to handle."

An unpleasant scene began to take shape in her mind.

A dimly lit auditorium. Rows of tightly packed chairs.

A presentation is being projected on the screen, and the person who came up with the idea is speaking.

The company had circulated a memo urging as many employees as possible to attend, if their work schedules allowed. But she had no idea how many people would actually show up.

The wholesaler where Fūko worked was located in Horikawa Gojo and primarily dealt with office appliances and supplies such as ballpoint pens.

Management periodically solicited submissions for new product ideas from the team. It was part of their job and entirely voluntary, but the competition was treated like a special event. Motivated colleagues looked forward to these competitions, though Fūko had always taken part solely as a spectator. The themes varied annually, but she had been impressed by how seriously everyone-from newcomers to seasoned veterans-approached their presentation. Among the proposed ideas were cute products-toiletries, trinkets, unusual office supplies-all of which she was looking forward to seeing come to life.

It was a different story, however, when you had to do it yourself.

Ever since she had been chosen as one of the finalists, Fūko had been practicing her presentation whenever she found the time. She'd sought a colleague's help with the slide projection, and she had been over her script many times.

The pace of her speech, the volume of her voice, the position of her body, and the time allocated for each section-she'd planned everything meticulously.