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Sephiroth did not have any pets. He had no idea what he would do with one. Still, it was always pleasant to pass by a nearby house which sported an outdoor shelter for the local alley cats. They kept to themselves, while making things just a bit more pleasant.
For the past few weeks, a certain calico had taken up residence there. She had one blue eye and one gold eye, beneath patches of black and orange and white. She was his favorite neighbor, never wanting to ask him inane questions or talk about nothing. No small talk, just an occasional slow blink in his direction when he would notice her.
More recently it had not been even that much. She had been staying inside with her back faced to the outside. Still, it was comforting to see her there. A small constant whether he was leaving at the crack of dawn or coming back in the middle of the night.
With mid spring came the rains. It was a season he had always liked. The rain never bothered him, and it kept most people inside. At night the sounds of pounding rain were soothing to fall asleep to.
It is a Truth that all things are impermanent. It is a Truth that one of the sufferings of the living is death.
So it was that, on his way home, he saw a familiar orange and black and white pattern of fur, not in its safe dry box where it should be but out in the street. He could not see her eyes but he knew that it was her. She was still. The pounding rain had soaked her and washed away any blood.
He looked at her for a long moment before he continued on. Despite himself, out of habit, his eyes glanced to the little shelter. He knew he would not see her, thought it would be empty.
What he did not expect was to see two tiny squirming creatures where once the calico had been. He could just barely hear their little cries.
His mind flurried with sudden indecision. It was ridiculous for him even to consider anything but turning away and going home. Absolutely ridiculous and utterly out of the question. He did not have pets and knew nothing about their care. It would be ludicrous for him to pick up every animal he came across lest it succumb to the elements. He would leave. He had to.
And yet, he reached tenderly into the box and picked up the first little squirming creature, bright orange. He held his coat open and placed it inside, out of the downpour. It had already gotten wet, but they would be inside soon. He reached back and grabbed the little black cloud of shadow, mewling at the top of its tiny lungs.
It was stupid. This was stupid. He was acting ludicrous. He could imagine Hojo sneering at him, calling him overly sentimental in that obnoxious nasal drawl of his.
The little struggling kittens were softer and warmer than he thought they would be. Their mother must not have left long before he found them. He wondered, briefly, why she would leave, but then remembered that she must hunt to feed herself. She had no mate to help her. It was the way of nature, nothing to be sad about.
Still, it was a little hard to dismiss the whole thing as a mere natural event when she had most likely been struck by a vehicle.
The kittens were entirely too squirmy for his liking. They seemed to be earnestly searching for something within the confines of his jacket.
He hurried to get out of the downpour. His wet hair was already starting to get heavy. In the entrance of his flat, he stepped out of his boots while searching on his phone for what, exactly, he should do with a couple of kittens.
Nothing terribly surprising. Food and water, a place for them to leave waste, a comfortable place to sleep, and something to keep them occupied and spend their energy. Considering the orange one was currently trying to climb up the back of his neck with no care for the integrity of his skin, it was clear they had plenty of energy. And always the little cries as they struggled to move about.
He could finally set them down now that he was inside, but had to consider where. It had to be somewhere warm and soft, but also easy enough to clean. The kitchen and bathroom were ideal from a cleaning standpoint, but his floors would be cold. The couch was adequately comfortable but difficult to clean. The bed, he decided.
Minutes later he was seated on the floor, listening to the mews of his new guests as they explored his futon just as eagerly as they had explored the inside of his jacket. He was reading through information on his phone again now that the most urgent distraction was gone. There was so much. It was hard to believe that the proper feeding and care procedures could be so complex. But he would carry them out. At this point he had already made the foolish mistake of taking the pathetic things, he could hardly put them back. Even euthanization, while clearly more humane than letting them die of the elements, felt too cruel an end for these tiny creatures who mewled with vibrant life. They were struggling to survive, how could he deny them?
Again, Sephiroth chided himself for being overly sentimental. But he still proceeded to make sure they were both dry and under a warm blanket before he moved into the kitchen to begin heating water, some of which would be put into a makeshift kitten meal, the rest of which would be used to create a warm bottle against which they could regain some body heat.
Slowly, Sephiroth inhaled and exhaled to center himself and regain calm. He had made a decision and he would have to stick with it. The proper care procedure was complex, yes, but nothing he could not handle. The sound of the rain grew in intensity as the downpour continued outside.
As he returned with supplies for their feeding and warmth, he considered the pair, one orange and one black.
Aloud, he wondered, “What names shall I give you?”
As the kittens cuddled to the warmth of the glass bottle he had prepared for them, he retrieved a compendium of Mineralogy. It was one he had long since memorized but it brought him comfort to peruse it.
“You,” he said, glancing at the black kitten, “will be Obsidian. And you…” he trailed off, looking at the orange kitten. He flipped between the pages of a few options he had considered, then nodded with decision. He had settled on an old, underappreciated favorite. “You will be Feldspar.”
As Feldspar kneaded his claws into a hand towel, eagerly partaking of the makeshift formula, with the sound of the torrential rain rushing down outside, Sephiroth felt more peaceful than he could remember.