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Coconut.
Toji’s never liked coconut before. It’s too subtle of a taste: hints of tropical nuttiness layered beneath a slight sweetness. Toji prefers something more forward. Something with a strong and clear taste.
Still, for some reason, the pint of ice cream intrigues him. The smooth, off-white scoop on the label looks creamy and inviting.
If Toji knew then— knew the trouble that some foreign, stupidly overpriced, coconut milk ice cream would lead him to— well. He’d like to say he wouldn’t have eaten it. But, truthfully, the ice cream was pretty damn good.
“This is pretty damn good,” Toji swallows another mouthful, rummaging through the rest of the deceased’s ridiculously fancy refrigerator. While he’s examining some cans of high-end beer, Toji feels it: he’s being watched.
One hand twirls the spoon between his fingers while the other ghosts over the still-bloody sword strapped to his hip. He stands up straighter, slowly turning his head to the left and—
A cat. A white cat with eyes that glow an inhuman blue in the dim refrigerator light. It stares at Toji, unblinking. Eyes wide, pupils vertical slivers, its body as still as a statue.
And then it lunges at Toji. Lightning speed, a blur of white launching itself towards Toji’s face. The spoon and the half-finished carton of ice cream clatter onto the floor.
The cat is fast, faster than Toji anticipated. But what kind of assassin would Toji be if he couldn’t even handle some stupid furball?
He grabs the unruly thing by the armpits, dragging it away from his face. He’s ready to throw the damn cat across the room, or maybe trap it in the fridge, when it meows at him.
A quiet, little meow.
Toji blinks, lifting the cat up so it's at eye level. It meows again, staring at Toji with its freakishly blue eyes, all innocent and confused as if it didn’t just pounce at Toji’s face with killing intent two seconds ago.
Well. It did just find a stranger in its home in the middle of the night. Toji, also, would attack without hesitation if he found someone rummaging through his refrigerator at three in the morning. He supposes he can forgiv—
The cat swipes a paw at Toji’s face and if he hadn’t turned his head away in time, he’s certain he would have just lost his right eye.
Toji swears under his breath as he throws the cat away from him. Irritatingly, it lands on its feet all gracefully. Annoying little gremlin. Toji takes a deep breath. He’s an assassin. A well-paid assassin; there’s no way he’s gonna waste his time fighting some furball that barely weighs four kilos.
While keeping his eyes trained on the enemy at all times, Toji bends down to pick up the ice cream carton and the fallen spoon.
“I’m taking this with me,” he tells the cat, pettily. He heads for the window to make his escape, leaving the cat in the kitchen. It can go eat its owner’s corpse or whatever, for all Toji cares.
By the time Toji makes it back home, his bank account has received a significant deposit. He tosses the spoon into the sink and the now-empty ice cream carton in the trash. He washes his hands and face, strips off his dark clothes, swapping them for some worn-down sweats. And then he heads down the hall and slides open a door, slowly and quietly.
There in the centre of the room are two sleeping figures. Megumi is curled up on his side, facing Tsumiki who’s sprawled out on her back, both their blankets kicked off towards their feet. Only the gentle sound of their asynchronous breathing fills the warm room, the soft light from outside illuminating the two small bodies in a pale, yellowish glow. It’s a gentle, serene moment.
Until Tsumiki begins to squirm, attempting to kick off the last of the blanket that clings to her leg, smacking an arm against Megumi’s side during all her tossing. Megumi groans, turning over onto his stomach and Tsumiki spreads her limbs out more, further encroaching onto Megumi’s futon.
Tojo shakes his head, silently crossing the room and cracks the window open slightly, allowing the air in the small room to circulate. He nudges Megumi over so the kid doesn’t suffocate in his sleep and pushes the stray strands of hair off of Tsumiki’s sweaty face.
After that, Toji heads off to his own room to catch up on some much-needed sleep.
He does not notice a certain uninvited feline slinking in through the kids’ window.
Megumi wakes up with Tsumiki’s hair in his face and her knee jabbing his side.
She has rolled over onto his futon, pressing up against Megumi, making him all hot and sticky. It’s still dark out and Megumi is still sleepy so he has no choice but to get up and move onto Tsumiki’s futon.
However, much to Megumi’s surprise, Tsumiki’s futon is already occupied.
Megumi blinks, rubbing at his eyes. But no matter how hard he rubs, it’s still there— the cat that is.
A white, fluffy cat curled up on the edge of Tsumiki’s futon.
Megumi crawls towards it, lowering his head so he can get a better look at it.
He gasps, when its eyes flicker open, revealing a bright blue, like the colour of where the sky meets the ocean.
Hesitantly, Megumi reaches his hand out, his fingers brushing over the soft, thick fur on the cat’s head. The cat lets out a quiet hum and Megumi can’t help but smile a little.
Pleased, the cat stretches out across Tsumiki’s futon, closing its eyes once more as Megumi continues to pet it. Watching the cat sleep, Megumi realizes he is also still sleepy and is reminded of why he woke up in the first place.
He glances to his right; Tsumiki has taken full control of his futon, hair and arms spread out wide. And in front of him; the cat stretches diagonally across Tsumiki’s, taking up much more space than you would think necessary for an animal its size.
“...Where am I supposed to sleep now?” Megumi asks but his two roommates are sound asleep, leaving Megumi without an answer and a futon.
Toji would like to sleep in longer. The kids don’t have school so it’s not like he has to be up early.
But. The kids don’t have school, which means they’re at home and Toji can only leave them unsupervised for so long before the two of them get bored and call forth some cataclysmic disaster into their home.
So. Unfortunately, it’s only some time past 8:30 when he stumbles out of the bathroom, slippered feet heading towards the kitchen.
It’s still early enough that he’s only expecting to see Tsumiki up— since Megumi avoids the morning sun with the same animosity you’d expect from a century-old vampire— but to Toji’s surprise, both the kids are up, standing next to the kitchen island, huddled together and peering at something on the floor.
Toji immediately assumes they’ve broken a dish or something, his mind conjuring up images of sharp shards of glass embedded in tiny, delicate feet, and he’s ready to scoop them both up, trying to recall where the first-aid kit is and see, this is why he can never sleep in and—
No glass. Just milk. Not even spilled milk, Toji thinks, panic leaving his body and relief making its way in .
Just some milk in a shallow bowl sitting on the floor and a fluffy, white cat sniffing at it—
Toji freezes. He blinks, once, twice. The cat is still there, now lapping merrily at the milk.
He closes his eyes, tilting his head up towards the ceiling and inhales, a deep, slow breath.
“Good morning, Papa!” Tsumiki chirps, noticing his presence now.
“G’morning,” Megumi mumbles, tired sleepiness still clinging to his voice and Toji almost laughs because now he understands why Megumi is uncharacteristically awake already.
He opens his eyes, looking back down and at the same time, the cat pauses, lifting its head up from the bowl of milk, its, eyes flickering up to glance at Toji and—
No. No freaking way.
It’s that cat.
“What is this.”
“A kitty!” Tsumiki chirps.
“We’re keeping him,” Megumi says, doesn’t even ask.
Toji looks at Megumi, a harsh ‘ like hell we are’ at the tip of his tongue. Megumi returns the stare, his pale green eyes locking dead-on with Toji’s darker ones.
Logically, Toji realizes he’s the adult here. Being the adult means he can say no and there’s not much those two gremlins can do about it. Not to mention there are valid reasons as to why they can’t keep the cat; the fact that Toji offed its previous owner less than twelve hours ago is a glaringly obvious one.
However. Toji also knows that attempting to out-stubborn his four-year-old son is a fruitless endeavour that consumes precious time, energy, and part of your very soul.
“We’re keeping him,” Megumi repeats, eyes locked with Toji’s, his small hand running over the cat’s furry white head. The damn thing meows, as if in agreement.
“...whatever,” Toji grumbles, sidestepping the kids and the cat and heading for the fridge.
Tsumiki lets out an excited cheer and the two of them return to cooing over the cat, asking it if the milk is yummy.
Cat-aclysmic disaster indeed, his sluggish brain provides, oh-so helpfully, as he glares at the single sip worth of milk left in the carton.
The grocery store run to restock on milk inevitably segues into a trip to the nearby pet store wherein Toji is forced to stand there and listen to the cheery shop assistant dutifully answer all of Tsumiki and Megumi’s questions about feline care.
And suddenly, before Toji knows it, their apartment is littered with hundreds of cat-related things.
Metal bowls on the kitchen floor. A scratching post next to the windows. Countless fake mice thrown around the place.
It seems like the larger fraction of Toji’s latest paycheque has been spent on turning his apartment into some sort of kitty paradise.
And yet— despite Toji having bought literally anything it could ever dream of— the cat is still out to get him.
Toji knew that cat was off its rocker the second he laid eyes on it and every moment he spends with it since then just further cements that notion.
It’s obsessed with knocking over everything it sees. Toji has lost many mugs by leaving them unattended on the countertop.
It watches them eat like some absolute freak, staring them down with brutal intensity as they all sit down for dinner. The kids think it's cute but Toji thinks the little goblin is hoping one of them chokes and dies so it can steal their food.
It always swipes and hisses at Toji whenever he tries to pick it up. Even if the little devil is sitting in Toji’s spot. It just refuses to move and stares at Toji smugly with its smug little face. But it has no problem letting Tsumiki brush its stupidly long fur and even lets her put sparkly little bows and clips in its fur.
But the weirdest and the most unnerving thing it does is stare at Toji with these looks that feel just a little too uncatlike. Like it just knows something.
It’s early in the morning by the time Toji gets home. It’s pale and hazy outside, the sun just barely beginning to peek over the horizon. He enters through his bedroom window, having just returned after completing his latest contract. He hoists one leg up, swinging it over the window ledge when he spots the cat.
It sits on the floor, all prim and proper, staring up at Toji. Its glimmering blue eyes bore into Toji’s with too much emotion, far too much coming from a cat.
If Toji didn’t know any better, he’d say it was staring at him with disapproval.
“Don’t give me that look,” Toji stares back at the stupid cat. “Your fancy coconut milk ice cream ain’t cheap, ya know?”
The cat makes no moves. It just sits there in silence. Staring. Judging and condemning him.
No, that’s ridiculous. It’s a cat. Toji shakes his head; he sits, halfway out the window and glances back at the cat.
It meows, a quiet soft mewl, its white fur shimmering in the dim lights from outside.
“Scram,” Toji tells the cat, swinging his other leg in before closing the window shut, flicking the lock into place. He drops his gear off to the side, slipping out of his boots. He strips off his blood-stained clothes and tosses them into his hamper, before heading to the bathroom to take a much-needed shower.
The stupid cat is waiting for him when Toji emerges from the bathroom, sitting still as a statue.
Toji scowls and bites out a sharp, “ What. ”
The cat scurries away, its paws padding against the wooden floors, and Toji wonders if the furball has finally given up on being a cryptic creep.
Apparently not, it would seem, since it returns. It stands on the threshold of Toji’s door, fluffy white tail swishing behind it, and meows softly.
“What is it,” Toji sighs, wishing he could just go to bed already. The cat disappears into the darkness of the hallway but this time Toji follows it.
It stops in front of the kids’ room, staring impatiently up at Toji. Toji has no clue why; it could slip inside if it wanted to. His weirdo kids always leave the door cracked open for the cat because they’re weirdos who don’t mind waking up to a face full of fur.
Toji slides open the kids’ bedroom door further to peek inside and check on the kids. The cat darts past him, a blur of white at Toji’s feet. It settles on the floor, in between Megumi and Tsumiki’s futons, curling up into a tight ball.
It spares Toji one last glance, the same disapproving look but with something else mixed in there this time.
I’m watching over them, it says, eyes lingering on Toji’s for a second more before tucking its head in and closing its eyes.
Toji closes the door and heads back to his room.
If he sleeps just the slightest bit more soundly that night, knowing there’s someone looking over his kids— well, that’s no one’s business but his own.
White fur. So much white fur.
His black shirts, the ones Toji likes to keep in spades because they’re comfy and hide blood well and make his pecs look great— covered in white fur. All of them.
Toji pilfers through his closet, in the vain hope that perhaps at least one shirt made it out unscathed. But alas, that little goblin seems to have gotten to them all.
“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” Toji scowls at the cat, his fist tightening around a once pristine black tee. There’s no way this wasn’t premeditated. And after last night, when Toji was just starting to warm up to the little pussy cat…
The cat doesn’t seem to care for Toji’s ire, too busy making itself comfortable in Megumi’s arms. Great. Toji gets to remove hundreds of strands of cat hair from Megumi’s clothes too. How that little goblin even has any fur left with the amount it leaves on their clothes is truly a mystery.
Toji tosses the shirt aside; it lands on top of the pile of all his other fur-decorated clothes. Yeah. Only a total idiot would get a white cat when their wardrobe comes primarily in black and black-adjacent shades.
“I’m sure he didn’t mean to. He’s just a kitty,” Tsumiki defends the little war criminal. She offers Toji a lint roller that he didn’t even know they owned. He huffs, blowing a stray piece of hair away from his face, accepting it.
“Just keep the furball outta my room,” Toji instructs. “And you, ” he snatches Megumi up, holding him up by the armpits, “Stop letting that bag of fleas lay all over you.”
“He’s warm though,” Megumi protests.
“You’re covered in fur,” Toji blows at Megumi’s hair, dislodging a particularly long strand of silvery-white fur. “You need a bath.”
The cat perks up at the word ‘bath’, weaving its way between Toji’s legs, since it’s a freak of a cat that actually likes taking baths.
Unlike Megumi whose face instantly becomes crestfallen at the idea.
“Put those eyes away.”
“I can’t,” Megumi says woefully, “they’re attached to me.”
Toji rolls his eyes, adjusting his hold on Megumi.
“How ‘bout this? You and Tsumiki give the cat a bath and then I give you a bath.”
Tsumiki and the cat seem more than pleased with the offer while Megumi pouts, cheeks puffing outwards, but begrudgingly accepts, not willing to miss out on doing anything cat-related.
“There. Everyone wins now.”
Except for Toji, who on top of having to wash almost every shirt he owns, will definitely have to deep-clean the bathroom after those two rascals finish bathing that other rascal.
But of course, that is simply the life of the only adult in a household full of rascals.