Chapter Text
Kotetsu woke up with a splitting headache, wondering what on earth Antonio had let him drink the night before. Except… Kotetsu furrowed his brow in thought. He hadn’t been drinking. He had gone for a walk and heard—screaming? Or something similar. Either way, he definitely remembered the spandex of his mask under his fingers, the soft press of it against his face. He had put it on for something, and then… Kotetsu groaned. A giant, aching blank.
At least he was relatively safe, though. Light pierced his head even through his closed eyelids, so he was outside somewhere, not held captive in a warehouse. The main question was where, and was he injured enough that he would need to call a taxi. All of his bones ached, and his muscles felt like someone had treated them like a rubber band.
Opening his eyes, Kotetsu stared up the brick wall of an alley into a clear gray-blue sky. Someone’s white-leafed plant waved gently on a breeze, and—
Kotetsu blinked. Still white-leafed. He blinked again. Still white-leafed, and even for an alley in the city, this area was remarkably void of almost any colors. Kotetsu slammed his eyes closed tightly enough that he saw sparks, held them like that for a solid thirty seconds, and opened them again.
The plant still had white leaves. Why did the plant have white leaves?! Determined to figure out what was going on, Kotetsu tried to stand up, only to stumble back down when his legs didn’t move quite right. They were shorter than he was used to, bending in a way they weren’t supposed to, and—and there were four of them?
Kotetsu started whining in panic, a high-pitched noise that should not be coming out of his throat and turned into a bark of disbelief.
Kotetsu decided to blame that panic for the fact it took him a minute to realize he had just barked. Like a dog.
Kotetsu twisted where he sat, not trusting his legs at the moment, but determined to get a full picture of what his body looked like.
His body twisted a lot more than he was used to. He was able to scramble around enough that his eyes faced his back—his fur-covered, hotdog-shaped, tail-attached back. Kotetsu whined again, and the tail tucked itself into his side, whip-thin and shivering.
What was he supposed to do now?
Barnaby wandered the streets staring at his phone. He had texted Kotetsu two hours before, wondering if the older man wanted to meet up for a movie or something, only to get nothing in return. If it was any other person, he wouldn’t worry, but this was Kotetsu. As a hero and a father, the man was religious in always having his phone on his person, volume on the ringer turned all the way up. And every text got an immediate response. Always. Even if it was just a thumbs up. Barnaby had asked why once, because it bordered on excessive, and Kotetsu had rubbed his head sheepishly.
“I can’t be there for Kaede in person most of the time,” he explained. “But I can be there virtually. If my daughter at least knows that I listen to her, that I hear her—I hope that she’ll come to me when she really needs that. But it kind of carried over into my texting with other people, too.”
Barnaby had snorted a “kind of?” He had grinned to ease the blow, and tucked the little piece of Kotetsu into his head. Now, he kind of wished he hadn’t.
“It’s just two hours,” he muttered, glancing at the clock on his phone, down at the lack of new texts, and then up at the building before him—Kotetsu’s apartment.
“It’s just two hours,” he told himself, climbing the stairs. “Everyone else would tell you not to worry. And they’d be right.”
“It’s just two hours,” he muttered, fishing the extra key Kotetsu had given him out of his pocket.
“It’s just two hours,” he thought to himself, staring around at an empty apartment. Dirty dishes were stacked in the sink, and examining them showed traces of an old dinner—but not that old. Probably from that night. And Kotetsu’s favorite shoes and jacket weren’t at the door, and there had been no sign of a break in.
“He probably went for a walk,” Barnaby said aloud. His voice echoed in the quiet, and with Kotetsu’s phone gone with the shoes and jacket, it did nothing to convince him his partner was alright. Barnaby settled on the couch. When Kotetsu came in, he would be waiting.
Barnaby jerked awake to the sound of the neighbors yelling next door. Momentarily confused as to why his glasses were still on, he glanced around and stilled as his memory came back—but Kotetsu obviously hadn’t. The tv he’d turned on after an hour was still on, the doorway shut and empty. And most telling was his glasses. He didn’t know why Kotetsu had picked the habit up, but the man tended to take them off and put them on the nearest flat surface for him when he fell asleep first.
Barnaby rubbed sleep from his eyes, then rushed for the door. There was no need for coffee; he was wide awake already.
Barnaby didn’t return to his own home till late that night. He and the other heroes, officially given permission to worry after Kotetsu didn’t show up and Barnaby told them about the previous night, had spent the day split between combing the streets, contacting anyone who might know where their coworker was, and taking care of regular hero work. When it neared midnight, and almost sixteen full hours of work, Agnes had charged in and barked that they would start separating the search for Wild Tiger into shifts. She would take shift one. Everyone else was sent home.
Staring up at his own building and remembering how he had done the same at Kotetsu’s the night before, Barnaby wondered why he had even bothered coming this far. He was going to spend the night on the streets, no matter what Agnes said—though he supposed he could use some fuel first. With that in mind, Barnaby took the elevator up, and came to a sudden halt at his own front door. Curled up, sound asleep and firmly blocking his way, was a medium-sized orange and black dog.
Kotetsu woke to a hand nudging his shoulder, first softly, then harder. “Mmm,” he groaned. “Okaa-san, just a bit longer…”
“Dog,” a familiar voice ordered. “You have to get up.”
“Buuuny-chan,” Kotetsu whined. “‘M not a dog… ‘m a Wild Tiger… and what are you… doing here?” He trailed off as he opened his eyes to a black, white, and yellow Bunny staring down at him. “You look horrible!” He exclaimed. “Huge bags, Bunny, huge, and, and why do you look like you’re in an old movie? What have you been doing?!”
He tried to scramble up, needing to poke and prod his partner for any hidden injuries, only for his legs to slip out from under him. He fell to the floor with a yelp, and only a quick hand from Bunny kept his head from smacking into the floor.
“Careful, dog!” Bunny cried. “Honestly, I have enough going on without worrying about you, too.”
Kotetsu didn’t answer him. The fall from too many legs, the repeated “dog” calls from Bunny, and his own sudden colorblindness had all combined into one huge reminder that, oh yeah, the Tiger had been turned into a dog.
The panic startled another whine out of him, and he stared up at his partner with wide eyes, tail softly slapping the ground behind him. He had barely managed to figure out his legs enough to drag himself to Bunny’s, only for his partner to not show up for hours and hours. But he was here now. Bunny was here now, and they would figure something out together.
Kotetsu whined, then tried to get his legs to work again. They had gotten him here, right? They could work again, and then—
“Whoa, there, dog!” Bunny warned. The man laid a hand on his shoulder, pressing down gently but firmly. “Don’t you remember what happened last time?”
Kotetsu barked. Of course he did, but—
“Then take it slow.” Bunny stared down at him sternly, and Kotetsu huffed. Well. He supposed he could do that much.
Barnaby watched for a second, eyes narrowed, as the dog tried to struggle to his feet before caving and reaching to help. One arm around the dog’s chest, the other under his butt, lift, and—
“Come on,” he coaxed, bending his wrist awkwardly to pat the dog’s shoulder the best he could. “Put your legs down. I can’t hold you forever. That’s it, there we go.”
When he was sure the dog was holding his own weight, Barnaby took his arms away and crouched down on his heels.
“Are you injured?” He muttered, peering at the dog’s legs and petting him. “I don’t feel any hot spots… Sore, maybe?” He looked to the dog’s head, and found him staring back with wide eyes. “Though I don’t know why I expect you to know… or answer me,” he realized with a sigh. The heroes had split up to cover as much ground as possible, only really talking when necessary they were so distracted with Kotetsu’s disappearance. Considering Barnaby had grown used to the man’s constant chatter…
Something cold nudged his arm, and Barnaby looked up to find the dog looking up at him. The dog barked.
Barnaby let his hand come up to rub at the dog’s ears, closing his eyes. “You’re not Kotetsu,” he murmured. “No matter how much I wish you were.”
The dog barked again.
“But I am,” Kotetsu barked. “Bunny! Bunny it’s me!” He wagged his tail as fast as he could, till he had worked up the full body wiggles he had seen real dogs do, trying to create a giant “look at me” sign. “Bunny! Bunny! Bunnnnny!”
Bunny managed to crack a small smile. “At least you’re feeling better,” he noted. “And probably not injured after all, moving like that. Are you ready to come inside?”
“I’d feel a lot better if you realized the dog with tiger stripes was Wild Tiger,” Kotetsu replied.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Bunny stood, back cracking—seriously, what had his partner been doing all day—and opened his apartment door before standing to the side.
Instead of moving, though, Kotetsu eyed the suddenly long way between himself and the door. “Uh… Bunny-chan? I don’t think I can walk that.”
“Come on, dog.” Bunny made clicking noises with his tongue, and waved a hand.
“Seriously, Bunny?” Kotetsu muttered. Though he supposed he had to try walking again sometime… He took a step forward, then quickly took another one when the first threatened to send him to the ground. And then another, because that was his paw almost right out from under him, and by the time Kotetsu passed through the door he was running full speed ahead for Bunny’s arm chair.
In hindsight, maybe Kotetsu should have realized that barely being able to walk also meant jumping was out of the question. As it was, Kotetsu tried to gather his legs under him, failed, and scrabbled at the floor till he finally managed to turn and slide, heavy and fast, into the side of the chair. Panting, Kotetsu flopped to the floor and prepared for Bunny’s laughter.
None came.
After taking a minute to regain his proper breathing skills, Kotetsu lifted his head and peered across the room. He almost lost those skills again. Bunny stared back at him, leaning against a closed door, with tears in his eyes. Sniffing, the man took off his glasses to wipe his eyes before replacing them and moving toward Kotetsu.
“Kotetsu would love you,” Bunny sighed.
“Eh?” Kotetsu blinked.
Bunny slumped into the chair, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his knees. His eyes stared right into Kotetsu’s, green and piercing. Kotetsu couldn’t help but sit up straight, forcing his front legs to hold his weight and bring his head closer to Bunny’s level.
“Bunny?”
“We couldn’t find him,” Bunny whispered. “We spent the entire day looking for Kotetsu, and we couldn’t find him. I should still be out there, but—” Bunny’s hand curled into a fist “—but I need sleep and a break. And now you. I can’t just leave you here when you need help. He wouldn’t want that. Even when you’re just a dog.” Bunny bowed his head into his clenched fist, his voice breaking on the last word, and Kotetsu’s heart broke with it.
Oh. That was—of course they had looked for him. He had been exhausted by the time he made it to the apartment, who knew how long it took him to get there, let alone how long he had slept undisturbed on the doorstep. And his coworkers—his friends—his family had spent that time looking for him, stressed out of their minds.
Kotetsu whined, horrified he hadn’t tried to find them. Nevermind that his legs still didn’t work properly, or that Bunny hadn’t even recognized him yet—he should have done something.
“Bunny,” he whined, and nosed at his partner’s hands. “Bunny, look at me. It’s not your fault.”
Bunny raised his head, and Kotetsu rested his head on his partner’s hands, gazing up at him with eyes that, he hoped, expressed how much he cared for Bunny.
Bunny smiled softly—achingly—just one corner of his mouth lifted, the other frozen stiff. “You have to belong to someone, dog,” he said, shifting his hands so Kotetsu’s head rested on just one, the other lifting to a spot just behind his ear and scratching. “You’re too well-behaved otherwise—well, minus the attack on my chair.” He snorted, but his hand kept scratching, and Kotetsu kept his head there. It was a little weird, but if it was what his partner needed at the moment… if it was what he needed, Bunny could pet him all he wanted.
And ok, Kotetsu could see why real dogs liked it.
As much as Barnaby thought the dog probably needed to rest, he also wasn’t about to leave the dog in his home unattended. It was as much about the health of the dog as it was the safety of his home. He still wasn’t completely convinced the dog wasn’t injured, so he’d rather have him where Barnaby could keep an eye on him.
Though of course that was easier said than done. After granting himself a half hour to cleaning up, a half hour to food, and another half hour to sleep, Barnaby tried to coax the dog to the door. Instead, the dog rolled over on the floor and pointedly closed his eyes.
“Dog,” Barnaby called, toe tapping a bit in annoyance. “Now isn’t the time for sleep.”
The dog’s tail thumped once, and Barnaby couldn’t help but imagine a stern “yes it is.”
Barnaby’s toe tapping intensified. “I need to look for Kotetsu, dog. And I’m not about to wait till morning.”
The dog rolled over again, looking up at him with wide brown eyes, and Barnaby’s shoulders released tension he hadn’t realized they’d had. Walking over, he knelt next to the dog and rested a hand on its side.
Lowering his head to make eye contact again, he whispered, “It’s important, dog.”
The dog’s eyebrows shuttered together before relaxing again, and Barnaby sighed. Somehow, it felt like he was having an argument with an actual person.
“I’ll call a friend to join me, and you can get dinner,” he promised.
The dog barked, jowls open and smiling, before fighting to get his legs under him again. Smiling back, Barnaby steadied his shoulders before climbing to his own feet.
“Still a bit wobbly, huh, dog?” he asked. The dog’s shoulder leaned against his upper calf as they walked together, step by step, out the door to the elevator.