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Imasuji avoided animals as much as he could, he thought them annoying. Except for dogs, he liked dogs. But animals like guinea pigs and a stupid cat? He despised them. They were small and weak and cuddly and he hated them.
He was the kind of guy to squish bugs and yell at squirrels, not be all lovey dovey towards a stupid cat.
A specific stupid cat.
“Gou, can you buy eggs? I feel like cooking tonight and we’re out. There’s cash on the table.” Hayo called from the kitchen, stirring Imasuji from his half-awake daze. He groaned and got up, reluctantly dragging himself to where his husband was. Hayo looked up and raised his eyebrow.
“Or are you going to be chased off by a cat on the road?” he said teasingly- or mockingly, he couldn’t tell. The mention of that cat made him bristle and scowl.
“I’m killing that cat if I see his stupid face again,” he vowed under his breath. Hayo snorted and patted Imasuji’s massive shoulder.
“Of course you will. Hurry up, I’m getting hungry.” Imasuji leaned down and gave him a smooch on the cheek and clomped to the door. He put his boots on and dug through his pocket for a prosthetic eye to put in.
There we go, his grocery shopping eye. He popped the avoid responsibility eye out and in with the new one. He shoved a jacket on himself and exited the tiny residence he called home.
Walking to the store wasn’t anything new, it was just hard to keep himself under the radar. Most people in the town they lived in didn’t like him or ‘Muscular, the Carnal Murderer.’ That was fine, he liked himself plenty. Imasuji carried on the sidewalk and the feeling of dread weighed on his chest.
The damn cat was near.
He turned around and, just as he predicted, saw the mangy thing. It was fluffy and ragged, two yellow beady eyes staring at his singular one constantly. His fur was white with matted splotches of black and a few bald patches here and there. He was an alley cat, lived on scraps. He hated the thing.
“The fuck are you looking at, huh?” He spat, flexing and looming over it so that it’d get frightened and leave. The cat couldn’t care less, it slowly blinked back and licked its paws. Imasuji squatted down, it was still staring at him, the little shit.
“I’m not playing your games, cat. So shoo!” He stomped his very unmerry way back to the trail. Occasionally he looked behind him to see if the cat was there, and it wasn’t. He sighed out of relief and relaxed a little.
Keeps following me, does it wanna fight? He asked himself. He reached the store, small and quaint; he had to duck whenever he went through the doorway. Imasuji pushed open the door and felt the nice cold breeze of the AC touch his face.
“M’kay, let’s get the eggs and go.” He mumbled to himself. He made his way to the produce and dairy isle, squinting for the kind Hayo liked. He wasn’t too picky but he liked a certain kind, a brand called ‘Sheldon’s Eggs’ or something. He only knew curses in English. Then, he felt something brush his leg and he instinctively activated his quirk and balled his hands into fists, ready to face the intruder.
He glanced doward, and, to his surprise and anger, it was him.
The damn.
Stupid.
Cat.
He sent the muscles back into his flesh whilst his skin closed up and he frowned at the thing.
“You can’t go into the store.” He snapped at it. The cat only squeaked raspily and nestled his muzzle on Goto’s ankle. He froze and felt a dumb idiotic sense of warmth in his chest. No, he doesn’t even like cats.
“I said screw off,” he repeated and tried to shake the cat off. It didn't work. He grumbled annoyedly and bent down to meet his eyes. It looked so sad, so pleading. It rumbled pathetically, fluffy tail flicking. He rolled an eye and curled his lip. He hated this thing.
“Fine, c’mere.” He scooped the cat up with one hand and nestled it against his chest. It purred and latched onto his shoulder and stayed there. Why he was being nice to the cat, he didn’t know. Maybe he just wanted to be nice and then dropkick it into the sun. It’s not because he liked it, he just was gonna throw it in a nearby garbage can when he leaves. He grabbed the eggs (he probably crushed them) and paid. All with the cat on his shoulder.
Imasuji left the store, ready to kill the little shit- but he didn’t. Rather he glimpsed at the egg carton in his hands and thought.
“Sheldon.” He decided. “That’s your name.”
Sheldon purred and gave Imasuji a tiny lick on his face. And he brought the cat home.
Hayo was not very impressed about the eggs being crushed.