Chapter Text
“Alright, let’s go!” Yata cried out. They had arrived at the last known coordinates of the Strain, which they had received only minutes ago by Fushimi.
“Careful. I just filed the civilians out of the area.” Fushimi said to the team through his microphone. His voice-o-gram bobbed up and down with each syllable. “The Strain was last seen eating some mackerel from the store in front of you guys.”
A collective “roger!” rang in his ears. The sound of Yata unsheathing Orion made Fushimi hyperaware of the situation. Of all of them, Yata and Awashima had the best swordsmanship skills, but Yata lacked listening skills when he got excited.
“There!” Awashima’s voice blared. “Go!” Three more swords were unsheathed, and Yata’s yelling resounded in the van. Fushimi could hear unnatural screeching and metal hitting metal as the Strain fought back with whatever it was holding.
Fushimi sighed. He wasn’t completely aware of the situation, but Yata was always unconsciously commenting on a move someone made, so it was pretty clear to him that after about ten minutes they were still unsuccessful in weakening the Strain.
“Misaki.” Fushimi said. “Stupid Misaki. Can’t even defeat a girl.” It was time to rile up the wild crow, if they had any chance of capturing the Strain.
“Like I’ll ever lose!” Yata roared, and went in for another swing. “Ha! Let’s see you use that arm agai - ow!”
“Misaki.” Fushimi warned, exasperated. “Focus on the battle. Don’t get your ass kicked by the Strain.”
“I know that, idiot!” came a faraway reply. Bang, bang, bang. More clashing of metal. The Strain seemed to be more than capable of wiping the three of them out if they tried to. But of course, Yata wouldn’t let the crazy cat lady have her way. Ten more minutes had passed, and Yata’s triumphant laugh indicated their victory. “Got ‘er!” he whooped. They were all out of breath from the long battle against the crazy Strain. It had taken them every ounce of self-restraint to not up and kill her. Fushimi had it easy, since he was put in civilian and tracking duty most of the time. His computer skills didn’t stop at just that, though. He was an infiltrator, a programmer, and a damn good navigator for the other four. A lot of Scepter 4’s current programs were directed by Fushimi himself. Nonetheless, he was proud of his team for not killing yet another Strain. It wasn’t easy to use sabers as weapons to capture someone without killing them, but Scepter 4 had perfected the art of ‘cut just enough, but not enough to kill’. Well, that and they usually had sedative darts stuffed in their pockets. Though they usually didn’t do much due to a Strain’s amazing dexterity.
There was ruffling and a coarse meowing sound. “Hmm? Not without a price.” The Strain said, though Fushimi could barely hear her. “C’mere a sec.” There was a scuffling sound, like someone was trying to shake off their handcuffs.
“Ha! Like hell I’d listen to you!” Yata called out to it. Fushimi could tell that he took a step towards her, though. A shrill laugh sent shivers down Fushimi’s spine. A crackle. Everyone coughing. Then…
“The Strain’s passed out.” Awashima reported in a shocked tone.
“But Yata…” Yamamoto sounded worried.
“He’s a …” Kusanagi let the sentence hang.
Fushimi groaned. Of course this would happen after Fushimi told Yata not to get too involved with strays. “He’s a cat, isn’t he?”
Silence.
“That idiot.” Fushimi hissed. “Regroup. Time to report.” They were already on overtime. He hoped there was at least some compensation for what had just transpired.
“On our way!” they all replied. There was some shuffling and a tiny screech, then came a soft “there, there” from Kusanagi and all was silent again.
_____________________________
At the moment they were in Munakata’s office, with Awashima giving the formal report. Fushimi hung off to the side with Yata, attempting to quiet the little rascal. He held Yata at an arm’s length away, trying not to get killed by his soulmate. Yata was hissing at Fushimi, trying to claw at him, which was why Fushimi was holding him so far away. He was more than glad to have wristbands on at this very moment, otherwise Yata probably would have clawed them to ribbons by now. He was tiny, barely any larger than a kitten, and he was orange with a white belly. There was even a stripe of white on his neck. His eyes were hazel and had that same fiery look that human-form Yata always had. The characters Fushimi wrote on human Yata’s cheeks just hours ago took the form of a white patch of fur on his cheek.
For a fleeting moment Fushimi wondered if Yata’s fur would turn white if he wrote on his own skin.
“Misaki, quiet!” Fushimi hissed, earning another snarl from Yata. He was mewling nonstop, trying to squirm out of his grip. They had been at this ever since they handed Yata to Fushimi in the van. At first Yata was just being really grumpy and kept shoving his head in-between the crook of Fushimi's arm and his chest, but after filing into Munakata’s office he went crazy, as if he didn’t want to be in there at all. So, for the ten minutes that Awashima gave the report, Fushimi had to wrestle a cat barely larger than his 16-ounce coffee tumbler.
“… and so, that concludes the formal report. As to what happened to Yata Misaki…” Awashima looked to the two youngest members of Scepter 4.
Munakata chuckled at the sight of Fushimi quarreling with a tiny kitten. “It’d be unfortunate to have to put Yata on lockdown until he turned back to his normal self.” Munakata said, his eyes full of mischief. “Especially since we don’t know how long Yata will be in this state.”
“That would be rather unfortunate.” Kusanagi chimed in. “Fushimi would probably hate you for locking up his soulmate away for an indefinite amount of time.”
Fushimi turned to glare at the rest of the room’s occupants, who were either chuckling or about to start chuckling. “Like I’d care.” He mumbled, clicking his tongue.
Yata didn’t seem to like that answer, though. He bit down hard on Fushimi’s thumb, causing Fushimi to yelp and drop Yata. He fell rather ungracefully, and after landing on his back he turned and darted to a corner of the room, behind a fern pot. Fushimi sighed and walked over to the fern. His right thumb was bleeding a little from the bite.
Kamamoto was wheezing from laughter. “Fushimi… got… rejected!” he managed to squeeze out, causing the others to chuckle. Fushimi was getting mad all over again, but he didn’t have the energy to deal with everyone. Sometimes he wondered if they were really older than him.
“Misaki,” Fushimi cooed from behind the fern. “Come out…”
There was silence. Fushimi looked over the fern to find Yata curled up tightly into a ball. His ears seemed to be drooping and his body was shaking slightly. Fushimi felt a pang in his chest. He wanted to each out to Yata, but he knew Yata would react badly to that.
“Misaki…” Fushimi tried again. Yata tucked his head further into his body. “Come on, they’re not going to lock you up. You know that.”
Yata still wouldn’t budge.
“Looks like you hurt him, Fushimi.” Munakata remarked. Fushimi shot him a look, as if to say I can see that, Captain Obvious. “Would you like to care for Yata while he’s a cat?”
Fushimi noticed Yata’s figure freeze from the corner of his eye. “I will” was all Fushimi said before turning back to Yata. He didn’t know how to deal with this situation. Fushimi was in no way an expert on animals, but he assumed that they usually get frightened by large gestures. He started quietly tapping the floor around Yata in an attempt to elicit any sort of response from him. “I’m going to touch you.” Fushimi said softly. When he touched Yata’s back with two fingers, he started to tremble again. Fushimi slid his fingers down and started to pet him in an attempt to calm him down.
Yata’s trembling slowly ceased, and Fushimi swore Yata was vibrating.
Oh wait, he’s purring.
Fushimi brought out his other hand and coaxed Yata onto his hands. When Yata finally relented, Fushimi bright him up to his chest. Something in his chest fluttered, but it turned into a heavy pain when he realized that Yata had been crying. He turned his body away from the rest of the people in the room, making sure Yata was obscured by him.
“Misaki?” Fushimi murmured, bringing his thumbs up to wipe away some of the tears. “I’m sorry, Misaki…” He let his wounded thumb rest on Yata’s tiny cheek, and his stomach had that weird fluttery feeling yet again when Yata ever-so-slightly leaned onto it and started licking Fushimi's wound.
Fushimi couldn’t stop the smile that graced his face. Nobody in the room saw the smile, but they all smiled at the sight of their two youngest comrades being affectionate towards one another. Yata was the most bond-oriented out of anyone in Scepter 4, and it really showed - even in his cat form. Munakata, satisfied with the display of affection, clapped his hands - a motion he used to end a meeting.
“Let’s retire for today.” He said. “Expect some compensation on the next payroll, and Fushimi, please take the time off to care for Yata. We won’t know when he turns back to normal, and it’s a good time to observe.”
“What about the Special Ops team?” Fushimi asked. “Without me and Misaki, that’s barely more than half of the team.”
“We can arrange for a few replacements.” Munakata assured him. “We won’t leave the Special Ops team powerless while you two are out.” Munakata gave a reassuring smile and waved everyone off. “You’re all dismissed for the day, but stay behind for a minute, Fushimi.”
The rest of the team filed out, and Fushimi still hadn’t budged from the side of the fern. Yata was trying to tuck his head under Saru’s thumb.
“Which if the two of you have more things in the dorms?”
“Probably me.” Fushimi said, not daring to look away from Yata. The white patch on Yata’s cheek was slightly faded now compared to when he first saw it. “Misaki’s things are a mess, but it’s hardly two boxes’ worth of things.” At the least, it was that way during the week that Yata fell ill and wouldn’t let anyone but Fushimi in.
“Then I take it you know what I’m about to ask you to do.”
Fushimi clicked his tongue. “But of course, Captain.”
Munakata chuckled. “But don’t do it unless Yata’s okay with it.”
Something told Fushimi that Yata wouldn’t want to be left alone anytime soon. “Roger.”
“You may go.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
Fushimi shifted Yata onto the hand he was tucking himself into, and held him against his chest as he pulled the door open and left the room. The dorms were a ten minute walk from this part of the building, and Fushimi was faced with another dilemma.
What does Misaki need to eat?
He looked at the tiny cat that had tucked himself into the spot between his arm and chest.
“Misaki, do you want cat food?”
Yata sneezed and mewled.
“Is that a no?”
Yata gave a muffled ’mrow’ and snuggled against Fushimi again.
“I take it you’ll be okay with meat or something?”
Yata didn’t move, but Fushimi felt that Yata was satisfied with his decision. It was a good thing he had leftover chicken from last night.
Somewhere during Fushimi’s trip back to his dorm, Yata had fallen asleep. Fushimi’s arm was terribly sore, and as much as he wanted to just drop the extra pound or two of weight, he knew it wouldn’t end well between the two of them. Fushimi made it to his dorm and, after having safely set Yata onto a couch pillow, started reheating his leftover food from yesterday. The clock was nearing 11pm, much too late to have just gotten off of work. He was glad that he wasn’t going to be the one writing reports this time around, and won’t be the one doing so until the furball on his couch was back to being five-foot-four and even more annoying than ever.
Yata hadn’t woken up yet when the food was prepared, so Fushimi stripped a piece of chicken into tiny scraps and left it in a small plate for him. Dinner went by in silence, with Fushimi deep in thought, wondering just how is he going to take care of the cat he was tasked with caring for.
He knew Yata enough to know that he was the playful type, which was terrible for Fushimi, but he also knew that Yata had a shy and reserved part of him too, which Fushimi wished Yata would stay in for the rest of the time he was a cat. He’d rather deal with a sentimental cat than a cat that didn’t want to do nothing all day.
Fushimi purposely cleaned his dishes noisily to wake Yata up. The last thing Yata ate was that cake, which was almost eleven hours ago, and Fushimi did not want to wake up in the middle of the night to feed him. He heard Yata shift from the pillow, followed by a soft thud from something landing on the floor.
“Be careful, idiot.” Fushimi called out to Yata, clicking his tongue. A soft mew was heard, and when Fushimi turned to check on Yata he was already eyeing the small plate of shredded chicken.
Fushimi set the plate down and let Yata eat, suddenly aware of one more issue.
How do I bathe a cat?
He contemplated getting a glass of warm water and dumping it on Yata to get a reaction, but he’d probably wake up with scratches all across his face if he did so. He figured he had a few days to figure it out, but for now he prepared a warm washcloth and waited for Yata to finish eating before wiping him down to the best of his abilities.
Yata was purring again, which made Fushimi’s lips twitch. Who knew he was this easy to please?
After Fushimi took a quick shower and changed into pajamas, he took Yata to the bathroom.
“Please tell me you can figure out how to use the bathroom when you’re barely eight inches long.” Well, that wasn’t including his tail.
Yata jumped up onto the toilet and tried pushing the toilet handle down. After a few tries he was able to do so successfully, and Fushimi let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding in.
“I would’ve given up on you if you couldn’t at least to that on your own.” Fushimi muttered, earning an angry look from Yata. Well, as close to one as a cat could ever get. Which, might Fushimi say, was fairly close.
He picked Yata up gently once he had hopped back down onto the floor. “Time for bed.” He said, walking out of the bathroom and tossing Yata onto the bed before sliding under the covers. Being tossed so carelessly earned an irritated yowl from Yata, but Fushimi ignored it, knowing he wasn’t going to get hurt from landing on a fluffy blanket. “Sleep wherever you want. Do you need a pillow?”
He felt Yata move around on the bed, and when Fushimi turned towards the wall he saw Yata curled up in the corner where two sides of the wall met. He was facing away from Fushimi, and his ears were downcast. Fushimi at least knew some ‘cat language’ from having to watch cat videos at work, and he knew almost immediately that Yata was sad again.
Fushimi frowned. Why didn’t Misaki get settled over here with me?
“C’mere,” Fushimi murmured, putting an arm around Yata and gently pulling him closer. “You’re going to freeze.”
Yata watched Fushimi closely, before jumping out of Fushimi’s hold and putting himself between Fushimi’s chest and the crook of the arm that was tucked under him. Fushimi brought up his other arm and curled it around Yata almost protectively. Misaki situated himself so that his head was on Fushimi’s arm (the one tucked under Fushimi) and nuzzled his face into it almost affectionately.
Fushimi couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you comfortable there, Misaki?”
Yata mewed in what Fushimi made out to be a content tone, and before either of them knew it they had both fallen asleep.
But right before Fushimi let the drowsiness take over, he bent down to kiss the top of Yata’s head.
“I hope you had a good birthday, idiot.”