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Futaba had never told anyone this before, not even Sojiro, but the first time she met Akira wasn’t when the Phantom Thieves sneaked into the Sakura’s house after she blackmailed requested them to steal her heart.
It was the very first day Akira arrived in Tokyo to begin his one year of probation.
…Okay, ‘met’ might be a little bit of exaggeration – it was more like she saw Akira from afar. Through the windows from her room, actually.
Futaba was cooped up in her dimly-lit room as usual when she heard the doorbell rang that afternoon. Needless to say, she didn’t come down to answer the door. Only peeked through the closed curtain at the front gate, and spotted a lanky teenage boy looking not much older than her, with horrible posture (not that hers was a lot better) and an unruly mop of raven hair. She had watched half-heartedly as he talked to the courier before nodding and turning to leave, only to be stopped by a stray cat by his feet. He had smiled, crouched down to pet it for a minute or two, and then walked away and out of sight.
Futaba paid the event no mind at that time, thinking he was probably just some lost kid who got the wrong door. Shortly afterwards though, via the bugs she placed in LeBlanc, she learned he was in fact someone with a criminal record that Sojiro had agreed to take in and would be living in the café’s dusty attic for the next year or so.
From then on, every so often from the vantage point that was her room, she would catch sight of the same frizzy head wandering around the street of Yongen Jaya with a cat poking out of his duffel bag. He would approach free-roaming cats, bribing them with food into becoming friends with him, and even making small talk with them.
The cats never spoke, of course. Just random miaowing and rubbing head against his hand and ankle in the hope of getting more treats.
Futaba had thought the boy was peculiar. Little did she know he would soon be the one who saved her from her mental hellhole and eventually became a part of her little family.
Now, months after Futaba had her heart stolen and joined as one of the Phantom Thieves, Akira was still going on with his cat-bonding activity. He always made sure to keep a can or two of wet food and some snacks in his bag, not only for the strays he befriended around the neighborhood but also others that he seemed to run into wherever he went. As if building a network of Confidants from all walks of life across the city wasn’t enough, he had to conquer the feline realm as well.
There were a few occasions where Futaba got to witness in person Akira’s interaction with cats (besides Morgana), like when he escorted her to Akihabara to hunt for new computer parts, or when he walked her home after their Metaverse run ended too late at night, and Akira would beckon her to try and socialize with them.
Futaba remembered there was this tiny black cat who had given her hand a few sniffs when she gingerly reached her hand out, before flinching back and turning their attention to Akira, completely ignoring her afterwards.
She had jutted her lips out into a pout, and Akira had laughed a little while patting her head, the motion cheering her up instantly. She always found comfort in her key item’s head pats – Akira was the best ‘head patter’ among the gang, better than Inari whose pats were sometimes a little too rigid, and Ryuji who liked to mess up her hair while doing so, and the other girls whose hands were simply too small for her liking.
“It’s okay, Futaba,” Akira’s voice brought her out of her thoughts. “Fuzzy here just needs some time to get used to strangers. It took me a while as well.”
“Fuzzy?”
“He looks like a 'Fuzzy', don’t you think?”
Futaba glanced down at the black furry ball nuzzling his body against Akira’s hand, and then up at Akira's mop of black, curly hair. “Heh, I guess so.”
“He named all the strays he feed. Can you believe him?” Morgana rolled his eyes, but started licking Fuzzy’s head as he nipped the treats from Akira’s palm.
Akira smiled fondly, his hand moving to scratch Fuzzy’s chin, making the feline let out strains of shameless purr.
Cats seemed to genuinely like Akira. Futaba wasn’t sure if it was because they let their guard down more easily with Morgana’s presence, or because Akira himself gave off major feline aura and scent.
Yes, Akira undoubtedly smelled like cats.
Everyone said Akira perpetually smelled of coffee and curry (in the nicest kind of way), which was to be expected since he lived above LeBlanc. Futaba totally agreed, but that wasn’t all – you see, if you managed to get close enough, like during a hug, and took a deep sniff at him, underneath the rich aroma you would catch a whiff of a subtle undertone, a faint hint of something resembling freshly laundered bed sheets air-dried in the sun. Like the way Mona’s paws and belly smelled.
Like a cat.
The scent was so calming, so addictive that Futaba had to keep finding inconspicuous excuses to sniff him without coming off as too much of a freak. No way was she doing that. Inari had already taken up the quirky title of the team. She, on the other hand, had to maintain her image as this cryptic, omnipotent hacker.
Anyway.
Today was the day Akira (and Morgana) was supposed to come over to their house to have dinner with the Sakuras. It had become a scheduled event for every Friday, when Akira would be returning with Sojiro after helping out in the café and closing shop together.
As soon as Futaba heard the key jingling sound, she rushed downstairs to the front door to greet them, but only the feline creature was trailing behind Sojiro.
“Akira’s feeding the strays?” Futaba asked in a knowing tone.
“Again,” Morgana grumbled. “I swear the herd is getting larger and larger. There’re at least a couple of cats I’ve never seen before!”
“Aw, don’t be jealous, Mona, he still likes you the best.” Morgana perked up slightly at that, but then she added, “But only among cats. If we’re counting humans too, I’m definitely his favorite.”
Morgana’s indignant yowl and jump happened at the same time as Futaba’s yelp. Good thing she was prepared for the attack; she quickly ducked and rushed forward, bumping right into Akira who just came in through the door and knocking the wind out of him.
“Ooof! Careful there, ‘taba,” Akira chided without a hint of malice as he steadied her with both arms.
“Ohhhh right on time, Akira!” Futaba announced, her voice muffled by his jacket.
“For dinner?”
“For giving me head pats!”
Akira chuckled airily and did as he was told. Futaba tightened her arms around his waist, having no intention of letting his brother figure go anytime soon.
Sensing the unusually firm embrace from the girl, he asked, “Futaba? Everything okay?”
Burying her head into Akira’s chest, Futaba took a deep breath through her nose, letting his comforting scent fill her nostrils. There it was, that ‘cat bathing under the sun’ scent unique to her key item. “Mmhmm…everything’s perfect.”
Akira might be a magnet to stray cats. But to Futaba, he was like her catnip.