Chapter Text
Before Vash traveled with Wolfwood, before he met Meryl and Milly or any of them were even born, he owned a black cat.
As much as one can lay claim to a free-roaming feline, that is.
The cat was thin and flighty. Black as pitch, a wisp of a thing that learned to stick to the shadows to survive and did her best not to be witnessed by another living creature. It figures that it’s Vash – on the run in general, fleeing from especially ambitious headhunters that day in particular – who would accidentally thwart her efforts by face-planting behind a container filled with trash in the hopes it might provide both cover and a good line of sight on the main road.
There, one panting for breath and the other stiff with shock, their gazes crossed for the first time.
“Oh!”, wheezed out Vash, sparing a sweaty smile under drooping spikes of blond. He barely got to finish his morning routine before shots were fired. Even orderly spacefarers would develop a twitchy trigger finger once stranded on a desert planet for long enough, it seemed – or was this the first generation born planetside already?
Vash shook off the intrusive thought. Cat. That’s the important bit to focus on.
“Hi there! May you be so kind and share your spot with me for a bit?”
A pair of big eyes stared back at him. That’s all she’d been, in the beginning: Two fear-round pupils set in a ring of bright green, perfectly camouflaged in the dark.
The cat blinked.
Vash’s smile grew. “Cool! I won’t be long, promise.” Gathering his lanky limbs from his somewhat undignified sprawl, he continued: “Been a tough morning, y’know? Had the stupidest fight with my brother yesterday – Knives, he’s the worst – and now there’s these guys goin’ after me like hello? Wait your turn maybe? Military Police bounties haven’t been a thing for that long, anyway. How’d they catch wind of mine already?”
The cat didn’t reply. Duh, it’s a cat, it’s their whole thing to be stealthy and quiet.
Kind of the opposite to Vash. Staring at her, he had been instantly charmed. This most recent of shootouts had slipped so fast from his mind, in fact, he’d rolled over on his belly to prop his head in his hands and stare at her some more, long legs idly kicking behind him.
“You make a good cat”, he’d informed her. “ Very good. Very sneaky. Man, I’m jealous how sneaky, honestly”, just in case nobody had praised her on that before and because he tended to ramble under duress. Freshly smoked out of his hideout, in an unfamiliar settlement that hadn’t been there five to ten years ago and fueled by a handful hours of violently interrupted sleep? Vash certainly had some stress to process.
(Knives had grown tired of that particular habit quickly; two-ish decades into their wandering of No Man’s Land, Vash was practically starving for someone sane to talk to.)
“I don’t know what it is about me, but, uh– The humans don’t like it. Me. Us. They sense somethin’ is fundamentally different .” Vash hesitated, leaned in close. The cat shivered in place, but she didn’t run. “’Cause Knives and I are twins, and Plants, and all that... But you’ll keep our secret, right? You’re a kind soul, I can tell.”
Vash’s heart sped up at the admission. Another first. Nothing exploded, or shouted, or hurt like he’d come to expect. There was just him, and the cat, and a beat of mutual silence he dared to call peaceful.
“Thanks! See, this isn’t so ba–”
“You! Stampede!”
The bang of a gun reverberated in the alley. No impact or ricochet, though – a warning shot? Too much for the cat either way, since she flinched and scrambled away from the noise and, a second later, from sight entirely.
“–ah!” Vash ducked his head down, whispered-yelled after her, “Sorry about that!”, genuinely dismayed he ruined the spot the cat had so graciously shared with him. Patting down the pockets of his pants, he scrunched his nose at the half-eaten breakfast sandwich he’d stuffed there in his haste to flee.
“Vash Saverem! Show yourself and face what you’ve done!”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Gimme a second, will ya?”, grumbled Vash under his breath. “‘ Vash Saverem!’ You’re not my mom, asshole.”
Tugging out bits of toma ham and wam milk cheese, he created a tiny pile where the cat had been in case she returned. Some other critter would stumble upon an unexpected meal otherwise, and that was just as well.
Heavy steps crunched on loose sand, ever-closer. Vash’s pulse pounded harder: A restless heart that yearned to run and return to his kin and forgive and live to see a new dawn, together.
Two knocks of his knuckles on dusty ground. “Be safe out there, fluffy one.” A rudimentary farewell – then Vash, too, was gone.
Little did he know it wouldn’t be the last time their paths would cross.
*
There are multiple bags of groceries hanging from Vash’s wrists when a tiny noise catches his attention, the crinkling of plastic nearly drowning it out.
A reedy sound like... a small cat meowing?
Vash freezes two steps out of the general store, listens inhumanly hard, hears: timid paw taps approaching him, as well as the guy who’d been behind him in line taking a breath to complain. Stepping aside, “Go right ahead, sir, I think I forgot something”, chirps Vash as he makes sure to stay between the man and the suspiciously dark corner next to the store’s entrance.
The stranger grumbles and leaves. Glancing down, Vash once again looks right into big, green eyes and grins.
The little cat doesn’t quite allow him to pick her up. She does follow Vash, though, especially when he starts hugging the walls to accommodate her sneaking ways. “We’re set up right outside of town”, he explains to her, well aware the cat won’t actually understand a word he’s saying. It just feels right to talk her through things.
“Kni – I told you about him, right? Knives? – he’s out right now. Doing what, you ask? I don’t know. Between you an’ me: I hope he’s developing some sort of hobby. Something he can bond with”, Vash suppresses the urge to check for eavesdropping humans, “um, others about. Anyway, we’re taking a left here, it’s not much further.”
The place the twins currently inhabit is a glorified cave, pretty much. Millennia of desert storm winds have sanded its gritstone walls down into smooth, organic curves. The space within is decorated by the sparse amount of possessions they’ve accumulated in their time travelling the planet. Setting down his groceries, Vash peels himself out of his most treasured find – a long red coat, the leather yet to soften after decades of disuse – and hangs it on a self-made metal hook that demarcates where his half of the cavernous room begins.
“Nothin’ fancy, I know, but a roof’s a roo– Hey you, get your nose outta there!”
Though Vash’s reprimand is tinged by amusement, the cat immediately scrambles away from the bags she was already half-way inside of. Heart squeezing a bit, Vash lowers his voice, amends, “Aw, don’t worry, I’m good with sharing some of this”, crouching to dig through a myriad of sugary snacks he impulsively splurged on for something feline-friendly for her to eat.
“I got, uhhh, condensed wam milk? That’s probably too sweet. Toma egg? Ack, what if cats can catch salmonella, though... Maybe best to wait until I cook some for breakfast tomorr– Ah, great wam bacon!”
Vash waves the packaging in her direction, smiling. Fluffy cat ears snap forward instantly, curiously pointed.
“Yeah? Good? Bacon? I mean, who hates bacon, am I right? Well, vegans do. And Kni, but he’s a grinch on just about anything, lemme tell ya.”
Nose scrunched, Vash shoves aside thoughts of his troublesome brother. The cat doesn’t seem to particularly mind Vash’s frequent mention of him, going to town on the bits of raw bacon he offers her. It can’t be helped, anyway: The twins have been inseparable since birth (even before it, technically). Everything Vash experiences is tied to Knives in some way.
Still: A change of topic is in order. “...What’s your name, little one? Anyone give ya one yet?”
Vash is delighted by the realization he’s able to run his fingers through the soft fur on the feline’s back now, moving slowly nonetheless. She’s not entirely black, as broad daylight reveals; the suns have bleached some of her longer tufts a burnt marshmallow brown. She’s not entirely little anymore, either.
(How long has it been since they met? Two months? Three? Vash has only recently turned thirty-one and finds time slipping through his fingers concerningly fast.)
“No collar, no chip... You must’ve come from somewhere, though.”
To chip a pet is probably beyond the technological capabilities of today’s humans, actually. Lost Technology they’re starting to call things like that. Vash ignores the sinking feeling it causes in his gut, the notion of anything being truly lost. He feeds the cat another bite.
“Nothing to be done about it, I guess. You’re about as long a way from home as I am, by this point. If that place ever was home to you?”
Squinting at his new and only friend, Vash thinks and thinks. “Let’s see, how about... Cat... Chat... Katze...” A snort. Vash shakes his head, “Naming a cat ‘cat’, though?”, then tilts it to the side. “Eh, it’s not like any of those languages survived the Fall. Neko...? Man, I might actually be the worst at this.”
The cat mewls at him. Vash eagerly perks up.
“Oh? You like that? Neko?”
She paws at the last chunk of bacon in his hand. Vash deflates – and lets her have it, he’s not a monster.
“Oh. Y’know what, I’ll take what I can get, Neko. Kuroneko? First name Kuro, last name Neko. Yup! That’s the one.”
Licking the grease off Vash’s fingertips, Kuro Neko looks happier about her full belly than her newly-minted name. Sighing fondly, Vash scratches her beneath her fuzzy chin, muttering: “You just love me for my snacks, huh, Kuro?”
She purrs, quiet at first and then ever louder, eventually leaning into the touch rather shamelessly. Starving for more than a meal.
The teasing glint to Vash’s eyes dims a little. “That’s okay”, he tells her, soothing. His expression is too somber for someone who’s getting loved on by a kitten. “I’ve been there, going hungry is never fun. Life won’t always be this hard, I hope. People are still getting used to all this; grief has hardened their hearts, but once peace settles in, things will be different.”
Kuro purrs and purrs. Sitting down proper, Vash keeps petting her until she crawls into his lap, affection-drunk and too sleepy to mind the tender kiss he gives her small head.
“Soon, they’ll learn to love creatures like you and me again. You’ll see.”
*
“Psst, Kuro. Coast is clear.”
A dark, fuzzy head pops up from behind a boulder. Vash snickers, points at the Knives-shaped silhouette one whole cliff removed.
“I dared to suggest Earth Pop is better music than the songs of our sisters. Worked like a charm. Of course, I wouldn’t have to piss off my only close family member on purpose if you’d just get along with him.”
None of Vash’s playful passive aggression has an effect on Kuro. Fully grown into an elegant lady cat, she trots over with her fluffy tail held high and hops into Vash’s lap to knead his thighs into a most comfortable bed, purring up a storm. Clearly she is very proud of herself.
“Yeah, yeah, you adorable menace. S’not like I’d wanna share ya, anyway.”
A few chin scritches, then Vash continues what he was doing – mending bullet holes in his beloved jacket – around the warm weight on his legs. The task requires a bit more focus than he’d like. Leather is a stubborn material to work with, and those bandits that waylaid him and Knives a week ago didn’t give Vash the courtesy of aiming at any easy-to-reach spots.
“He doesn’t believe you exist, y’know. Calls you my ‘imaginary fleabag’. Pff, what a dick, as if he can’t smell you on m–”
A prick of pain. Vash hisses, “Shit! Ouch”, stares at the blood beading where he needle-poked his finger before sticking it in his mouth. Its sweet, iron taste lingers on his tongue.
Purrs falling silent, Kuro gets up to sniff at Vash in apparent concern.
“Don’t worry”, he quickly assures his cat before changing tracks in his mind. “Actually, do worry. You distracted me!” Simply because it’s more fun to complain about that than his own incompetence.
Kuro sits back down and silently stares at Vash, head tilted.
He sighs. “I know. You’re too cute to get mad at.” Bunching up the jacket, “Ugh, whatever. I’m over this anyway”, he grumbles as he places it and his sewing kit on top of his half-packed rucksack. They’ll be on the road South for some time still. In these parts, it pays to be ready to move within seconds, hence: Bandit Incident.
(What happened to said bandits afterwards, Vash forces himself not to dwell on. Knives knows better than to use his powers to deadly effect around his brother, and yet he insisted on–
Nope. Moving on. Not getting upset about this again.
It’s safe to say Vash is savoring the current distance between them a little more than usual.)
“C’mon”, Vash tells Kuro, getting up slow enough for her to jump down without a fuss. “Let’s go on a walk. Wanna show ya something.”
Together, they wander deeper and deeper into the canyon. There’s no need to let Knives know where they’re going: Plants can sense each other through their immaterial bond, Independents especially. A biological imperative to find and build community around their location-locked sisters, perhaps.
If something happened to Vash, Knives will feel its echo no matter if they’re right next to each other or hundreds of iles away.
Most days, being so irrefutably linked to his twin brings Vash comfort. Sometimes, rare times, it has him too claustrophobic to rest or sleep. Ever since the ships crashed, Vash has had this urge to run. From humans, from his past – from the ripples of his twin brother’s ever-darkening mindscape.
Away, away, until the sand-hazed horizon swallows him whole.
Vash breathes in. The desert air is warm. Stuffy. The landscape surrounding him is sandstone-red, noon-bright. There never exists a moment on No Man’s Land where one isn’t hot or sweating one’s ass off, but here, by himself except for his loyal feline shadow, Vash finds that weight lifting off his thoughts.
Alone, not lonely. Vash exhales until the tension dissipates from his body.
“I stole a gun the other day.”
The words bounce off the canyon walls. Insignificant enough human ears won’t pick up on it, but Vash’s and Kuro’s will. He turns on his axis to face her, the cat’s attention caught by the sudden motion. “Hey, don’t gimme that look. It was just layin’ around outside a saloon one night, so I just... nabbed it.” Walking backwards, he unholsters the weapon in question to show it to her, striking different action poses with the safety on.
It’s surprisingly heavy. Unwieldy in Vash’s too-gentle, glove soft hands, though he’s since discovered he’s a pretty decent shot.
“I’m not shooting to kill, obviously. Not shooting at all, most’a the time. You’d be surprised how many fights are over before it gets to that. But...”
Vash holds the .45 calibre revolver up to his eyes, frowns at the clean lines of its design. Meticulous precision born from centuries of human ingenuity – all of it dedicated to snuffing out life as efficiently and definitively as possible.
“I gotta have something, I think. Some way to make a difference, to get people to listen and protect them before Kni– Y’know. Might even help us blend in better? Maybe?”
Kuro meows, because she likes to make herself known when Vash pauses in his rambling. The consequence of talking to her all the time. Nodding, “Yeah”, Vash agrees to whatever she said. It’s only polite. Idly, he twirls the gun by its finger guard while he continues to sort out what’s on his mind.
“Kni doesn’t know about this yet, by the way, so keep it between us, okay? I wanted to talk to him about it last week, but then shit went down, we ignored each other for a few days, and now... It’s complicated. That’s the thing, K: Everything’s always so complicated with him.”
Another pause, another meow, this one loud and opinionated.
“Thanks”, replies Vash glumly. “For listening, too.”
Stuffing the gun back into his thigh holster, Vash shakes first his head, then his entire body to get rid of his bad mood, ruffling wild blond spikes for good measure. “Alright! Enough of that!” He points a finger at Kuro like a host on one of those old-timey game shows Rem had the twins watch to explain Earth media to them.
“What’s new on your end, hmm? Met any cool cats lately?”
Kuro purrs at the attention. Mrrow, she says.
“Mmhm. I see.”
Meow.
“Really!”
Mrr-meow, punctuated by a huff.
“Oh wow, rude. How dare they!”
By the time they’re heading back, Vash is grinning. Reaching up to pet Kuro on her bold perch across his shoulders and leaning his head back into her soft belly fluff.
A pinch at the nape of Vash’s neck. Emotion that isn’t his registers within him: Surprise, perhaps some jealousy. Gone too quickly to fully grasp yet leaving a sour note behind. Instinctively searching, Vash finds his twin staring in their direction, still up by the cliff close to their camp.
So much for pretending the cat trailing them everywhere doesn’t exist.
Kuro, for her part, tenses up the closer they get. Quietly, Vash tells her, “Off you go, then. I’ll leave you some wam kibbles at camp”, nudges for her to climb down his arm so she won’t have it far to the sands below. Crouching, he gives her some last scritches behind the ears.
“Come visit us soon, yeah? And don’t let those tomcats tell you nothin’, a queen such as you deserves only the best.”
They part ways, the child sun starting to sink with its parent bound to follow.
*
A year later, Knives massacres an entire town.
Vash draws that same, stolen gun on his own flesh and blood – and learns just how deep those blades can cut before everything goes dark.
And nothing is ever the same again.