Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tetsurou has spent most of his life being too aware of his own body.

Mostly because of how tall he is. Otherwise, he'd spend much more of his life knocking parts of his body into door frames or against the undersides of tables and anything else not really suited for a man towering above the average height. Especially since Kenma started renting that old house, and the urge to duck through doors didn't just come from skewed perspectives but actual necessity.

Another thing that shaped Tetsurou’s awareness of his body is volleyball. Knowing where you are in relation to your teammates and the ball and how many steps you need to reach, how far you need to lean, or how much room you need to approach for a jump is incredibly useful after all, and has become second nature over the years.

It wouldn't be an understatement for Tetsurou to say he knows his body as much as he can.

So when he wakes up on a Saturday and does not feel the hangover he is supposed to be feeling after being dragged to an izakaya by his coworkers last night, he knows something is wrong immediately. When he opens his eyes and, for the first time since he was a child, everything seems big and not just big but way too fucking big, he knows something is very, very wrong.

When he pushes himself up and instead flops over and out of bed in his hurried movement and a tangle of limbs and does not feel a rough impact and instead lands on all four feet, he knows he is utterly fucked.

Four feet.

He looks down and he sees two black paws.

The horrified scream that tries clawing its way out of his throat leaves him as what might have been a meow if he knew how to make that sound. Instead, it's a scratchy yowl that sounds like a cat being murdered.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

For a moment, Tetsurou tries telling himself that he's still dreaming, that he's having a lucid dream or something like that, because this cannot be real. There's no way he's a cat. There's no way he's not still sleeping.

People don't just turn into cats.

His phone rings and he flinches so badly that he jumps a good two feet into the air, then once more lands on his four feet like it was nothing, barely feels the impact of it. If this were real, he'd be impressed by how well his body seems to be doing like this.

But it's not.

It's a dream.

It has to be.

Tetsurou's phone continues ringing, and the noise feels sharp and too loud and too much, and he flattens his ears. This is a horrible dream, horrendously bad even, and he's never drinking again if this is what his mind comes up with when he's dreaming drunk.

He should try pinching himself.

Or well bite himself, he supposes.

So he does, and he figures that his hind leg — his leg, he's not a cat, it's just his leg! — is the best spot for it and doesn't waste a second before twisting around and biting into it. He feels his sharp and pointy canines sink into fur and skin and muscles beneath, and he feels the pain that comes with it, and he feels nothing change.

He doesn’t wake up.

Above him, his phone starts ringing again.

Fuck.

Tetsurou is fucked.

He doesn't know how long he spends freaking out internally because externally freaking out means he's yowling and he remembers that there's a no pets allowed rule in place for this apartment complex and that the walls are thin and if he gets kicked out of this place over a neighbor hearing a cat, that shouldn't even exist, meowing, he's going to have a conniption.

Kenma would laugh at him so hard if that happened, and probably show no mercy and tell him to move back in with his father instead of offering him the guest room at his house, which is a lot closer to Tetsurou's place of work than their family homes.

Oh shit.

Kenma.

Tetsurou was supposed to meet him for lunch. He already canceled their last three hangouts because of work. He can't cancel again. Or well, it's probably too late for that — how would he even cancel with paws and no way to properly communicate? — and if he's right in assuming that the two calls were Kenma, he's already in deep shit and way too fucking late anyway.

Kenma really doesn't like being stood up.

Especially not without a good excuse.

And what is Tetsurou supposed to tell him? Sorry, couldn't make it or text you, got turned into a cat, would surely not go over too well, and would probably come out a lot more like multiple meows than actual words.

Fuck.

How long will it take before Kenma takes his missing response as an actual warning sign that something is wrong? Tetsurou really hasn't been the best at texting back lately. But at least he cancels when he can't make something. So maybe Kenma will get suspicious and do something. Maybe even show up at his apartment to give him a piece of his mind. He's done that before when Tetsurou forgot to exist past his degree for a while in university.

But if Kenma doesn't, if Kenma's actually fed up and angry, the earliest Tetsurou will get missed is on Monday at work. That's at least 48 hours he’s going to be stuck here. 48 hours. That's a long time. Time that he can use to figure out how to get the fridge open for food, the faucet turned on for water and what part of his apartment will do best as a litter box because he's a fucking cat and if he falls into the toilet while trying to do what he's seen some cats in videos online do, he's going to jump off of his balcony when he figures out how to open the sliding door.

With whatever luck struck him and turned him into a cat, he'd probably survive that though, and have to figure out how to survive on Tokyo's streets as a cat.

He's not sure if that's the better option when compared to being stuck in his apartment and slowly starving.

Fuck.

If he were human, he'd be having a panic attack right about now.

But he's not.

Still, Tetsurou can feel his whole body shaking with the reality he's found himself in. But at least it helps a little to acknowledge that he's panicking and low-key screwed.

Or maybe he's not just shaking. Maybe he is in reality purring up a storm, his whole body vibrating with it, and by the time he becomes conscious of it, it stops immediately, and he goes still. He blinks, still right there next to his bed. He's read that cats purr sometimes to calm themselves, but that did nothing to relax him.

Mostly because it just reminded him clearly that this is real, that he's not dreaming, and that he's stuck in a tiny apartment with no way out unless someone misses him enough to come looking for him.

Tetsurou is so fucked.

He's still going to try and make the most of it.

—

As long as Tetsurou doesn't think too much about how to move his new body, maneuvering around in it is surprisingly easy. Four legs are easy to handle, jumping onto and off the counter as well. Even wedging his paw in between the refrigerator door and digging it open with a little desperation and a lot of patience is surprisingly easy. Though that might be because even as a cat, he's big and there's weight behind him if he uses his body to its fullest.

Fun.

Almost.

By the time his phone rings the fifth time that day, Tetsurou has both eaten some leftover rice and fish — bless past him for being too tired to clean up properly and just placing his plate and bowl as they were into the fridge — tried unlocking his front door and failed spectacularly — he misses having opposable thumbs — and taken a nap that was approximately three hours of figuring out how to best curl up to block out the noises from the neighboring apartments. Everything is a lot louder as a cat he's learned. Being a cat is surprisingly exhausting as well. The lull of sleep is tempting, and the messy state of his bed a tempting invitation.

So this time, the phone ringing once more scares the shit out of him, mostly because he's curled up right next to it.

Kenma's name is showing on screen — and isn't it nice to know that he can still read? — and Tetsurou can imagine him going back and forth between being pissed and worried, and he doesn't like either. That doesn't change the fact that the ringing is too loud though, and he bats at the phone. Maybe if he gets it underneath the pillow or blanket, it'll be bearable. He pushes at it again, paw partially on the screen, and suddenly Kenma's voice rings out, tinny and pissed, “Where the hell are you?”

Tetsurou wasn't prepared for his paw to register on the touch screen. Though maybe he should have expected it.

Well, this could actually work in his favor.

“Kuro,” Kenma says, a little louder, a lot more annoyed. And then, like he's not saying it to Kuro but to himself, mutters, “If you picked up by butt dial, I'm going to end you.”

Tetsurou snorts, and out comes a choked meow.

On the other end of the line, Kenma audibly pauses. Well, here goes nothing.

Tetsurou does his best to meow on purpose and lands somewhere between yowl and meow, but it sounds cat enough that he's a little proud of it.

“Kuro? Is this a joke?”

Oh, how Tetsurou wishes it were. He meows again, louder, and tries going for something that sounds vaguely in pain.

“What the- This isn't funny. Where are you?” There's worry there now. “You're grandmother called me. You were supposed to go home after meeting up with me. But you didn't show up to either, and she can't reach you. Where. Are. You?”

Right. That was something he planned to do as well. Hang out with Kenma for lunch, then go home and visit his family for the afternoon. Just get through two responsibilities in one day and show his face and that he’s still alive and well, just busy with the more or less new at work grind, despite being there for over a year now, but doing well in general. Show that he missed all of them and stock up on some comfort and good company, and then go back to missing Kenma but not being able to do much about it. Because he shouldn't be missing Kenma in the way he is.

Tetsurou meows again.

“Okay, fine,” Kenma bites. “I'm coming over, and if you're home and alive, I'm going to make sure you aren't by the time I leave.”

Kenma hangs up, and Tetsurou watches the screen blink back to life and show off the missed notifications of the previous calls — two from Kenma, one from his grandmother, and one from his father — and a multitude of text messages.

If he could sigh, Tetsurou would. Instead, he curls up next to his phone again and waits.

—

He learns that time is a very loose concept as a cat, while waiting for Kenma to show up. Tetsurou knows how long it takes to travel between his apartment and Kenma's house, and that on a Saturday with more people traveling into the city, it might take a little longer because Kenma might skip a train if it's too crowded. But it takes nowhere as long as this feels right now. It makes Tetsurou antsy, and he can't lie still for too long. Instead, he paces in circles, tries desperately to get either onto the balcony or to unlock the front door again, and fails miserably at both. At least the bathroom door isn't an issue, and he makes his way onto the sink, knocking down more than just a few things in the process — at least nothing breakable. Then he's staring at himself in the mirror and realizes that truly whatever god or ghost or curse is responsible for this, they must hate him for making him look this scraggly and even giving his cat form such a mess of fur to carry around. He's never seen a cat this ugly. At least he's got his size still on his side.

There's loud knocking on the door.

“Kuro!”

Kenma, Tetsurou thinks, and in his haste to get off the sink, he throws down more stuff, this time the glass holding his toothbrush, and it shatters loudly on the ground.

It's stupid that it startles Tetsurou when he watches it happen, but he jumps and nearly runs headfirst into the doorframe. Cat reflexes, he supposes.

There's more knocking and another, a lot more annoyed sounding, “Kuro, I can hear you! Open the door.”

Well, he can hear him alright, except he's not really here, is he now? Tetsurou makes his way to the door and meows as loud as he can.

Silence.

Tetsurou meows again.

“What the-” He can hear Kenma fumbling with something through the door, and then a few seconds later, Tetsurou’s phone starts ringing again. Tetsurou meows once more and then lifts his front paws to the door, claws out and all, and starts scratching.

The phone stops ringing. Kenma stays silent on the other side. Too long.

And then suddenly there are footsteps and they sound like they are leaving, and Tetsurou realizes that Kenma — his only chance to get out of here — is walking away, and he wants to scream. And all no pets rules be damned. Who cares if he loses his apartment if he might die in here as a fucking cat instead? So he meows and yowls and scratches at the door. He wants to cry, and he wants Kenma to come back, and he wants to have two opposable thumbs and be lanky and too big for life, be overworked and tired and missing people he cares about, and missing Kenma because it's easier than being in love with him but unable to show him. Tetsurou’s been stuck like this for less than a day, and he doesn't like it even a little.

He just wants- He wants-

“Shh, it's alright. Quiet down.” Kenma's voice is softer this time, and in his panic, Tetsurou didn't even hear him come back.

He meows in utter misery, realizes that this time his body is shaking in absolute terror and not because he's purring, and that he's panting. He didn't even know cats could pant.

Then there's a key in the lock, twisting. The door opens, and Tetsurou skitters back out of the genkan to not be hit, and then he's staring up at Kenma in all his glory, and if he were human, he'd cry right now. The sight of Kenma is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

Instead, he meows meekly.

Kenma stares down at him for a second. Then he makes a face, says, “You’re just as ugly as you sound,” as he steps into the apartment, pushing the door shut behind himself. He must have gone and gotten the spare key from the old lady downstairs, whom Tetsurou helps with her groceries whenever he can spare the few minutes, and that in turn keeps his spare key for days when he locks himself out — happened once, Tetsurou is not risking it again.

Tetsurou meows in offense, but Kenma ignores him and slips off his shoes to step into the apartment. He stands there in the middle of it for a second, takes in the mess Tetsurou left last night when he came home, his suit sloppily hung up, his shirt on the floor along with his socks, his wallet on the bedside table. A nearly empty glass of water and the wrapper of the chocolate he snacked on before getting ready for bed, right next to the sink filled with dirty dishes from breakfast, and the drying rack full of clean ones. His bed is unmade and clearly slept in.

Kenma picks up Tetsurou's phone from where it's lying between the sheets, flicks it on, and looks at the unread notifications.

“Where the hell are you?” he mutters and looks so confused at the notion that Tetsurou isn't here when his phone and wallet are.

Tetsurou feels bad enough that he pads over to Kenma, nudges himself against his leg. Kenma startles a little, pushes him away with his foot, and glares down at him.

“And where the hell did he pick you up? He's always going on about how there are no pets allowed here.”

Tetsurou makes a noise that he'd describe as a chirp, and Kenma wrinkles his nose.

“Seriously, how much did he drink last night that he let you come home with him? He's always had terrible taste, but you really take the cake.”

And okay, Tetsurou gets that Kenma might be angry and upset and confused, but he's starting to get a little offended here. His taste is not that bad, alright. And if Kenma knew that he continues to be the highest on Tetsurou's list of people he'd take home, he might rethink that statement again.

Still, when Kenma crouches down and holds out his hand in an offering, Tetsurou goes right back to him, presses his face into it, and lets Kenma's fingers gently scratch along his chin and ear. It feels kind of nice.

“He wouldn't have left you locked up here without food if he didn't plan on coming back home soon,” Kenma mutters. “Where did he disappear to, hm?”

Tetsurou wishes he could say, right here, but all that comes out is another meow.

—

Kenma's initial annoyance very quickly shifts into a nervous energy Tetsurou can feel much more clearly than he usually does as a human.

Tetsurou's apartment is small, just a single room with a small kitchenette in the hallway leading to the front door and into the bathroom, and yet Kenma still makes it a point to check the whole space for anything amiss. Even the balcony where there's still some laundry hanging from a few days ago. But there’s nothing that can offer a hint because Tetsurou came home like normal last night, even if he was drunk, and everything he owns is right here in this place.

Except his body.

After slipping the balcony door back closed, Kenma stands a little lost in the middle of the room, and Tetsurou takes the chance to try and rub along his leg again.

He’s instantly greeted by Kenma, pushing him away with his foot, a soft, “Stop that,” leaving his mouth.

Tetsurou meows and tries again.

Kenma clicks his tongue and pushes him away once more. “I sure hope you aren’t actually a stray.”

It’s a fair worry. Tetsurou has become known for getting a little too attached to some of the stray cats that linger in the neighborhood around Kenma’s house. So that he’d bring one home someday, wouldn't be too far out of left field. But he’s not stupid, okay. He’s careful about touching them and makes sure to wash his hands after, and he’d never just take one in without making sure that it’s healthy and actually clean. Who knows where they go when they aren’t lingering around for scraps of food?

Kenma lets himself sink onto the edge of the bed and pulls out his phone again. He taps around on it for a moment, frowns down at it as if whatever he’s seeing on it isn’t good news either. Then he squeezes his eyes shut and sighs. “Maybe he just forgot what day it was and went out without his stuff.”

It’s a feeble attempt at Kenma lying to himself, and Tetsurou feels horrible at not being able to tell him that he’s right there, sitting at his feet and watching him as he tries to tell himself that everything is fine and there’s nothing to worry about.

“He’ll come home soon,” Kenma says into the room. It rings hollow.

Really, there’s a lot to worry about. But there’s not much Tetsurou can do right now outside of jumping onto the bed and settling into a loaf next to Kenma, keeping him company while he waits for something impossible to happen.

—

Tetsurou dozes.

Being inside the body of a cat comes with decidedly less energy and staying awake power than that of a human body. Knowing that he’s not trapped by himself anymore probably helps just as much as Kenma’s warmth right beside him, lulling him in and tricking him into feeling comfortable enough to nod off. Though he feels his ears twitch, feels them move back and forth between the gentle rhythm of Kenma’s fingers tapping against the screen of his phone and the noises from outside. He’s not awake, but he’s also not really asleep. He’s aware.

Aware enough to immediately blink his eyes open at the feeling of Kenma shifting next to him.

And it’s only with a little trepidation that he watches Kenma get up again, pocketing his phone. Tetsurou is not sure how much time has passed, but it surely must have been more than an hour. Long enough for Kenma to probably have realized that Tetsurou is not simply out for a run or a walk or anything where he wouldn’t need his phone or wallet or anything really.

Tetsurou chirps.

Kenma turns to look down at him, purses his lips. Then he squats down in front of him, brushes a single finger up the bridge of Tetsurou’s nose and along his forehead, seemingly straightening out some of his fur. “I can’t just leave you here, hm?”

Tetsurou chirps once again, nudges his head up into Kenma’s touch. Because if there’s anything he can agree with, it’s that he doesn’t want to stay here by himself.

Kenma’s finger continues to brush over his head for a moment, and Tetsurou can’t help the quiet rumble of a purr starting up somewhere in his body as he lets his eyes close again. If he doesn’t think too much about what kind of situation he’s in, this is almost like a dream come true. Receiving affection from Kenma is a rare thing.

But it’s not a dream.

It’s a reality where Kenma thinks he’s petting a random cat that Tetsurou seemingly adopted. A reality where Kenma draws his hand back, says, “I’ll come back,” and then actually makes to leave the apartment again without there being anything for Tetsurou to do against it but meow pitifully.

He can see that Kenma feels bad about it to some extent or just generally hates the idea of having to deal with not just Tetsurou being missing in action, but having to take care of a cat as well. But Kenma still leaves, and the only thing that keeps Tetsurou from sinking into any kind of panic again is the fact that Kenma said he’d be back. He wouldn’t lie about that even if he's talking to a cat that shouldn't, under normal circumstances, understand what he's saying — or maybe they do and it's not just Tetsurou retaining human abilities as a cat. Either way, Kenma's words hold truth, and surely he'll be back in a timely manner.

So Tetsurou allows himself to give in to the still very present exhaustion in his body. There’s not much he can do anyway while he waits for whatever Kenma is up to now to happen. He's stuck here whether he likes it or not. So Tetsurou stays where he is on his bed, only getting up once to lie down properly, curling himself up into a tight circle.

Maybe the trick to turning back into a human is simply sleeping for long enough. After all, sleeping seemingly turned him into a cat in the first place.

This time, he actually knocks out cold, ears twitching from picking up sounds from the neighboring apartments for a little before everything just blurs out, and he sleeps.

He sleeps deeply enough that he only wakes up when there are fingers running over his back, and he doesn't even realize he's purring again, twisting his body and stretching under the touch until he hears Kenma sighing above him. Tetsurou blinks his eyes open, stares at Kenma, who's looking right back at him.

“I'm going to regret this,” Kenma mumbles, and then Tetsurou feels Kenma's hands curling around his body, and suddenly, he's being picked up. Kenma makes a noise, grunts, “Why did he have to pick the biggest cat he could find?”

Tetsurou can barely think, oh no no no no, before Kenma is shoving him into what is definitely a backpack made to carry cats, sitting innocently enough on the bed.

Could today get any worse?

“Stop struggling!” Kenma yelps when Tetsurou very much unintentionally digs his claws into his hand and hisses at him because can Kenma not see that he's going to be miserable in there? That thing is tiny! He'll be stuffed into it like sardines in a can! “I can't take you home with me if you're not in that bag!”

That makes Tetsurou freeze in his struggle, and Kenma immediately uses the chance to push the last of him into the carrier and zip it shut.

Home. He's going home with Kenma. Oh, thank god.

“Shit,” Kenma mumbles and looks at the scratches on his hand, as Tetsurou tries to wriggle into a more or less comfortable position. It's a tight fit. He hates it just as much as he thought. But really, it's a small price to pay for going home with Kenma. “You better be prepared to buy me whatever I want when you show back up, Kuro.”

Tetsurou blinks at him from inside the backpack. As if he could afford anything that Kenma couldn't easily buy himself. Though he still hasn’t told Kenma where he found the apple pie he brought along the last time he was over. Maybe that would be a good start to an attempt to make this up to him. Kenma twists his hand back and forth a little longer before he steps away, and the sound of running water fills the room. Washing his hands, probably because, for all he knows, Tetsurou is a stray and just scratched him.

A moment later, Kenma steps back up to him, and as he carefully picks up the backpack, Tetsurou learns that he really doesn't like not having a solid floor beneath his feet. It feels weird to be more or less floating and dependent on a thin piece of plastic underneath his feet to stay up there.

“You've got 24 hours, Kuro,” Kenma says into the apartment.

Tetsurou feels like crying at the tone of his voice and knows that this will get very real, very soon, and that if he's still a cat in 24 hours, someone will probably report him as missing because that's the only logical path here. Then there will be a whole lot of drama and official stuff involved, and it won't just be affecting the two of them. His family, the Kozumes, their friends. Everybody will worry and worry and worry, and nothing will make sense because Tetsurou would never just up and disappear, and that he left his phone, his wallet, and a weird stray cat behind will make no sense to anyone. And the next step will be kidnapping or murder investigations, and those will turn up empty, too, because he's not dead or actually missing.

No.

He's just trapped in the body of a cat.

And no one will find out unless he learns how to speak or write. Or turns back into a human as miraculously as he turned into a cat.

He forces out the most miserable sounding meow and hears Kenma sigh in response, as he locks the door behind them.

“Be quiet,” Kenma grumbles and then starts the trek back to his house.

—

Tetsurou learns two things about his cat self on the journey to Kenma's house.

First, the area around Tetsurou's apartment smells horrendous, too many different odors mixing, some good but most bad, and his new cat nose doesn’t like it even a little. Same with the level of noise. There’s a lot of different sounds fighting for his attention, and between the rustling of the backpack directly around him and the kids yelling somewhere down the street, it’s overwhelming in the worst way.

Second, he's prone to motion sickness because the gentle shaking Kenma walking inflicts on him is enough to make his stomach feel queasy, and it gets so much worse when they’re in a taxi and he can’t even see anything but the interior of the car anymore as they’re moving.

So really it doesn’t really surprise Tetsurou that the second Kenma opens the carrier in the genkan of his house, and Tetsurou has jumped out of it, he's throwing up.

Kenma looks decidedly unimpressed by it, and his muttered, “I fucking hate you,” is very much pointed at no one but Tetsurou, both in his non-present human form and his present cat form.

Wonderful.

At least it's just the floor of the genkan and not any of the tatami in the house. He's pretty sure Kenma would have strangled him without any care about getting to the bottom of the mysterious stray cat if he were forced to clean cat vomit off of tatami.

So while Kenma stomps off to get something to clean his mess up with, Tetsurou sneaks away and finds the first place to hide — the kotatsu.

He stays there as he hears Kenma mutter to himself in the hallway. He stays there as Kenma walks through the house for a few minutes. He stays there as the front door opens and shuts, and complete silence settles over the house.

He peeks out his head then for a moment, nose twitching along with his ears, but now that he can’t hear Kenma, the silence unsettles him for some reason. He's not sure he likes being left to himself, and he's not sure he likes how big and empty Kenma's house feels to him right now. He's always felt like it was lacking a little in personal decoration, but was welcoming nonetheless. Made comfortable and warm by Kenma's presence there. Right now, it just feels weird. But at least it’s silent, just the hum of the fridge in the kitchen, some birds chirping outside. The thick blanket of the kotatsu quietens most of even that. It’s comforting. A lot better than being trapped in his own apartment by himself.

So Tetsurou stays underneath the kotatsu and waits for Kenma to return from where he's gone. Though even when he hears the front door open again, accompanied by the rustling of plastic, Tetsurou doesn’t quite dare to leave his hiding place. He’s a little worried that Kenma might actually be mad. And maybe he’s also feeling a little out of sorts still.

It doesn’t take long though before Kenma finds his hiding place. Because of course he does. There’s no way in hell he’d let a random cat — one he only has vague ideas about where it came from — settle into his space this easily. There’s no way in hell Kenma will simply let him spend the rest of the evening in peace.

But Tetsurou isn’t thinking straight. He’s had a rough day. He’s no longer human. He’s dealing with a lot, and he blames all of that for why he doesn’t get the slightest bit suspicious as Kenma’s face pops into view, the blanket of the kotatsu lifted up and out of the way, letting some cooler air into the space. For a moment, they are just watching each other, and even as a cat, Kenma’s stare is a little unnerving.

Then Kenma’s expression turns a little softer, and he clicks his tongue, once, twice, then reaches out a hand, wriggles his fingers.

It draws Tetsurou in like a moth is drawn to a flame because he liked it when Kenma scratched his chin and head earlier. He liked the gentle attention Kenma subjected him to, and if he could get more of it, he would take it a million times over and pretend for just another second that maybe he’s just dreaming and in reality Kenma is running his fingers through his actual hair. So with a chirp, Tetsurou slinks forward, stays low to the ground, and follows the draw of Kenma's fingers until he can bump his face into them.

Kenma scratches his chin for a few seconds, just long enough for him to relax. Long enough for him to let his guard down.

Then there's a second hand on him, and Kenma is picking him up again.

Tetsurou lets him, if only because he's both tired and can see the angry raised lines on Kenma's hand where he scratched him earlier. And he stays loose-limbed and malleable in Kenma's hands, letting him shift his weight until he's more or less held secure against Kenma's chest. He even goes as far as trying to bump his head up against Kenma's chin and failing when Kenma leans his head back to avoid the touch. But that doesn't mean Tetsurou doesn't meow his protest as well. Tetsurou knows that even if he's big, Kenma will still be able to hold him — he's not that heavy, and Kenma is strong enough. Tetsurou just really doesn't like having all feet off the ground.

“You're too docile to be a stray,” Kenma muses as he stands back up, a little unbalanced with the extra weight in his arms.

Tetsurou chirps his agreement because Kenma is absolutely correct there.

“Or maybe you're just trying to make me believe that so I'll be nicer to you,” Kenma continues as he carries him through the house. “Would be fitting for Kuro to find the most conman-like cat. Surprised he didn't pick Mackerel off the street though. He's always going on about her.”

Kenma's not wrong. The sleek gray tabby wandering around Kenma's neighborhood has stolen Tetsurou’s heart nearly as much as Kenma has. There's just something about her with the way she greets him when he runs into her and the way she is so incredibly patient whenever she shows up at Kenma's place to beg for a few scraps.

He's been trying to convince Kenma to take her in for close to a year now.

Kenma sighs, shifts him around in his arms a little as he reaches out to slide open a door. “Sometimes I think he only comes over to see her anymore.”

That makes Tetsurou pause because that is so not the case.

And then Kenma seems to realize what he's doing and huffs a laugh. “Look at me talking to a cat. Ridiculous.”

It admittedly is a little ridiculous, but then again, Tetsurou gets the draw of talking to animals. Really. Mackerel has never once told him to confess his feelings to Kenma because she's a cat, and sometimes all a guy wants to do is just tell someone something without getting any advice or judgment. Sometimes all a guy wants is to make things more real by saying them out loud. Sometimes, all a guy wants to do is confess his feelings for his best friend of 16 years without being told to simply go for it.

The rest of his friends don't get it. There's nothing simple about confessing to being in love with Kenma. It has the potential to ruin the most important relationship in Tetsurou’s life, and he's not risking it. Tetsurou has been here for all 16 years of their friendship, and he knows Kenma. He knows him well enough that he would have noticed if there had been any change. Kenma's never shown him that he feels different about him, has never shown any indication that he looks at him as more than a friend.

So silence and distance to finally get over his feelings was the right path to pick.

Really.

That Tetsurou hates having to force himself to stay away from Kenma doesn't matter. That he's still very much in love with Kenma, with no improvement to show for doesn't matter. And both matter even less now that he's a cat and there’s no explanation as to why.

The sound of a door clicking shut returns Tetsurou's focus to the here and now, and he realizes that Kenma brought him to the bathroom. That can only mean one thing.

He's going in the tub, and he's going to be washed within an inch of his life.

Not the worst thing, and kind of expected. But also worrisome because Tetsurou has an inkling that this will feel strange and unpleasant if most cats don't seem to enjoy getting wet in the slightest. So he meows a courtesy protest as Kenma sets him down.

And he’s not wrong. Though the sound of Kenma letting water into the tub is probably the most uncomfortable part of it, the noise of the water hitting the ceramic and rushing from the faucet is loud as Kenma fiddles with the temperature. But then he settles on one, plugs the drain up, and it takes barely a few minutes until he turns the water off again. He turns towards Tetsurou.

“Here goes nothing,” Kenma says, and because Tetsurou is kind and hopeful that this will be bearable in some way, he lets himself be picked up and only meows. Touching the water is weird, but not the worst, the temperature running the tiniest bit too hot. It barely reaches his stomach, so he can continue standing just fine. But the ceramic below, slippery due to the water, is much, much worse, and he's only been a cat for a few hours. So he feels barely any shame that simply shifting his weight, turning towards Kenma, nearly sends him falling flat on his face. He fumbles, squawks a meow, and feels Kenma's hand curling around him, holding him upright. “Careful there.”

He meows up at Kenma. Kenma grimaces down at him.

And then Kenma turns away from him, reaches for a cup set on the corner of the tub, and starts the process of scooping water over Tetsurou's body. He's gentle and slow about it, no hurried movements. But he cards his fingers through his fur, to get the water to seep below the top layer of it, and that, that is the worst part of this, Tetsurou decides. Because it twinges, his fur unruly enough that every other motion tugs uncomfortably at skin and fur alike, and Tetsurou meows his annoyance at the sensation out loud because he's not about to scratch or bite or fight Kenma. He will be patient and let Kenma wash him. But he will be loud about his discomfort.

“Sorry,” Kenma mutters after a moment. Tetsurou screams because, yes, he deserves all the apologies right now.

Then there’s the soap. It’s neutral in smell, but there’s still something off about it, and it makes him sneeze repeatedly. And it only gets worse when that means he’s suddenly got his nose dipping into the water due to losing balance. Then his face is dripping wet as well, and he does feel stupid now. At least Kenma looks a little amused while he’s carefully lathering him up. Tetsurou would appreciate it more if he was not feeling covered by a smell that continues to itch his nose. But there’s not much left to do but yowl his unhappiness, so that’s what he continues to do as Kenma finishes covering him in soap and then, even more carefully than before, dribbles water with the cup over him. It’s a grueling process until Kenma deems the soap gone completely and reaches for the plug, lets the water drain.

“There, all done,” Kenma offers, drapes a towel over Tetsurou’s body, and proceeds to pick him up. He looks mildly offended when he sets Tetsurou down on the ground, and Tetsurou immediately rids himself of the towel again, and instead shakes off the excess water like a dog. It doesn't do a good job, but it does much more than the towel, and he knows that if his fur looked ridiculous before, it must now look absolutely horrendous standing on end everywhere.

There's also water in his left ear, and it's an itchy sensation that makes him sit down and try scratching himself with his hind leg. He's mildly successful in that he manages to scratch his ear and dislodge the water. He's fairly unsuccessful in staying upright, though, as his paws slip on the smooth surface of the tiles with the force of his scratching. Then he's suddenly fumbling to catch his balance, his leg catching on the towel and making everything worse.

So much for having a handle on the four-legged thing. At least ungracefully sprawling out doesn't cause any pain.

Above him, Kenma snorts.

Tetsurou meows his annoyance as he rights himself again. Though when Kenma squats down next to him to once again pick up the towel and throw it on top of him, Tetsurou lets him without protest.

“You're not getting out of here until you're not dripping anymore,” Kenma says, starts to gently pat him dry. “I can't have you ruining any of the tatami.”

Tetsurou chirps and succumbs to the uncomfortable friction of the towel. He'll do whatever it takes to make sure that Kenma lets him stay here. Seriously. There's a long list of reasons against cats that Kenma is always ready to name whenever Tetsurou so much as mentions taking in one of the strays. Too loud, too much shedding, too chaotic, sharp claws and teeth, and a stray could never turn into a sole indoor cat, so possibly a risk for health issues too. Just to name a few. He's heard them what feels like a million times. Still, he thinks Kenma is mostly just unwilling to commit to it emotionally. Because Kenma might not be too loud about it, but Tetsurou knows that he's an all-or-nothing guy. That he gets attached deeply once he does. And that goes for the simplest things like games and certain types of food, as well as the complicated stuff like relationships and people.

So really, Tetsurou understands that getting attached to things and people that might not be around forever isn't that high on Kenma's priority list.

Still.

He thinks it would do Kenma good to let himself get attached sometimes.

“There,” Kenma mutters as he drags the towel back off of him, runs his fingers through his fur to check the wetness of it. “That'll do.”

Tetsurou meows and twists around to try and bump his head into Kenma's arm. Kenma lets him, even scratches his fingers along the top of his head, pushing the fur there back until it must stand straight up with the residual dampness. He can see the amusement gathering in Kenma’s features when he draws his hand back and pushes upright again, picks up the towel to wipe down the edge of the tub and the floor with it before he hangs it over the edge of the tub. He stretches his arms above his head, shoulders cracking as he moves to the door to open it.

Following Kenma from the bathroom to the kitchen is an easy choice. One Tetsurou would have made even if Kenma didn't click his tongue to invite him along. But it's good to know that Kenma wants him there. And it's not hard to figure out why they are here, when Kenma immediately steps up to the counter and starts unpacking a plastic bag from the konbini.

“I sure hope you don't have any standards,” Kenma says and glances down at where he's sitting next to him and staring right up at him.

Tetsurou makes a sound that he really hopes translates as I do. And then he decides that he doesn't like being unable to see what Kenma is doing up there. He's not used to that. So as Kenma steps to the side to open a cupboard, Tetsurou takes the opportunity to jump up onto the counter.

Kenma freezes in the motion of pulling out a small plate and a bowl from the cupboard. A plate that's obviously meant for one of the cans of cat food sitting on the counter, right along with a few other things. Oh god, is Tetsurou supposed to eat that?

“Excuse me?” Kenma says and sounds incredibly offended by Tetsurou's mere presence on the counter, and then he reaches over and pushes him right back down.

Tetsurou squawks and is once again impressed by how much this cat body can do by itself because he sure as hell has no idea how he ends up on all fours on the ground and not with a broken back. He glares up at Kenma, Kenma glares down at him. Tetsurou moves to jump back up, and Kenma's arm shoots out, blocking him from making it, and he once more goes sprawling on the ground.

He meows his displeasure, and Kenma says, “No.”

Fine, Tetsurou thinks, have it your way. And then — because he decides that even if he's a cat and even if he wants to stay here, both don’t change the fact that he will be annoying Kenma in any way possible — he moves away, waits for Kenma to relax and go back to what he was doing — the smell of cat food has started filling the air and it's kind of not as bad as Tetsurou feared. And only when he's sure that Kenma is mostly distracted again, does he prepare to jump again. Except this time, he doesn't aim for the counter. He aims for Kenma's shoulder.

High goal. Literally. Because the tallest thing Tetsurou has jumped onto this far has been kitchen counters, but he thinks he might be able to do this.

Otherwise, he'll just fail and go back to hiding underneath the kotatsu for however long it takes before he either becomes human again or starves.

But he makes it.

Barely.

Only stays where he is without digging in his claws because Kenma folds forward under the sudden weight of him on his shoulder and back and stays still and hunched over the counter, until Tetsurou has settled a bit more comfortably, feels a bit more secure.

Tetsurou is close enough to his face now that he can hear Kenma swallow, and because he can, and because he's right here already and leaning further into Kenma seems like the smarter choice because balancing up here is surprisingly difficult — Kenma's shoulders are small, even as a cat — Tetsurou rubs his head against Kenma's face.

He can feel Kenma puff his cheeks out in annoyance, and from this close, he can hear every change in tone in Kenma's voice as he says, “I don't know where Kuro found you, but I'm not surprised that you're just as annoying as him.”

Tetsurou chirps his agreement and ignores how fond Kenma sounds in favor of nudging their faces together once more.

Kenma sighs and then reaches a hand up to scratch his fingers underneath Tetsurou's chin, and if it wasn't for the whole being a cat thing, Tetsurou could be the happiest he's ever been. The number of times he’s thought about hooking his chin over Kenma’s shoulder and hugging him from behind is insanely high. And even if this isn’t quite it, it’s close enough.

“Go sit your ass down on the counter, if you want to watch that badly,” Kenma says and shrugs his shoulders to try and dislodge him. “You're heavy.”

Tetsurou makes another noise, rubs his face along Kenma's fingers, and then jumps from Kenma's shoulder onto the counter, where he sits down, curls his tail around his feet, and proceeds to watch Kenma finish opening one of the cans. He wrinkles his nose, mumbles, “Why does it have to be so gross?”

And usually Tetsurou would agree because he doesn't really like the look or smell of wet cat food either. But with the more sensitive sense of smell of a cat, he's apparently added cat food to his list of somewhat delicious smells. God, he hopes that doesn't carry over when he becomes human again.

So with less dread and more morbid curiosity, he watches Kenma pluck a spoon from the drying rack and scoop some of the cat food onto the plate.

“You hungry?” Kenma asks as he nudges the plate towards him.

And Tetsurou can't really say no to that. He doubts Kenma will offer him fish or anything not resembling cat food, really. If he wants to eat, he's eating cat food, and he’d prefer not to starve. Unless that’s the only way to turn back into a human, he’s not risking it. And even if he’s not really hungry, he can still feel the need for food curling in his stomach, the stress of today having used up most of his energy.

So while Kenma watches, Tetsurou hunches down and takes the most careful and smallest bite he can manage, struggles for a moment with keeping it in his mouth — he learned earlier already that chewing soft food isn’t really a thing cat teeth are made for — and then just swallows it down.

It tastes fine.

Not fantastic, not bad, just fine. But it's stomachable. He can survive on this. Definitely not forever, but for now it's fine.

So he eats. Right there on top of the counter with Kenma moving around the kitchen, stacking the cans of cat food next to the fridge, and then filling the bowl with water and setting it next to the plate. Tetsurou trills his thanks as he swaps over immediately because now that he's eating, he realizes that he's actually thirsty as well.

But drinking is much more difficult.

He loses most of the water between the bowl and his mouth, knows it probably gets caught in the fur of his face, and drips right back down. After a few failed attempts at licking the water up, he decides that he doesn’t care for decorum or looking stupid and just dips his whole muzzle into the bowl.

He hears Kenma mumble, “So stupid,” somewhere next to him, and he’s right. Tetsurou certainly feels stupid. But at least it works, and he manages to drink some. He’ll work on properly drinking if he’s stuck like this longer. For now, dripping water down his face and onto the counter is a small price to pay for at least getting some fluids. The sensation of it tickles, though, and before he knows it, he’s sneezing once again, whole body twitching with it and nearly sending him right off the counter.

This time, Kenma dares to huff a laugh, and Tetsurou meets him with a loud and hopefully annoyed sounding meow the second he’s got his balance back. To make it more obvious that he doesn’t appreciate being laughed at, he shakes off the excess water without a care for where it might end up.

Kenma should try being a cat. He sure as hell wouldn’t ace every part of it on first try either.

Then again, Kenma would probably enjoy it much more simply because it would mean being allowed to sleep as much as he’d like and having the perfect excuse for not interacting with anybody. No video games though. He’d hate that.

“You done?” Kenma asks, clearly less than impressed at his behavior.

Tetsurou meows again and watches as Kenma picks up both the water bowl and the plate and sets them down next to the wall by the fridge. Seems like that will be Tetsurou’s dinner spot from now on. A little depressing and dark. Like the very real version of his life he’s stuck in right now, and that he’s not so gently reminded of, when Kenma stops in the middle of the kitchen, motionless for a few seconds before he shakes his head a little and pulls his phone from his pocket.

With dread settling in his stomach and making the food he ate feel like stones, Tetsurou watches as Kenma taps against the screen a few times before he lifts the phone to his ear. His lips are pressed into a thin line, his gaze fixed on nothing on the wall.

Tetsurou knows that Kenma is trying to call him again, and it makes his heart ache as he watches an expression of sheer frustration flash over his features as the call once more clicks over to nothing. Then Kenma moves out of the kitchen with too much force.

Tetsurou jumps down from the counter and follows him with a lot of hesitation. Because while the house has weird vibes to him without Kenma close, he also kind of doesn't want to see the misery he's inflicting on Kenma without even wanting to.

And they are only on day one.

It's only going to get worse the longer this goes on.

Well, at least Tetsurou is still here in some form and can offer comfort in the form of company and cuddles.

Except he’s met with a very cold, “No way in hell,” and the gentle pressure of Kenma’s foot pushing him back into the hallway before the door to Kenma’s office shuts in his face.

Figures.

Kenma doesn’t like being interrupted when he’s working.

Well, then Tetsurou will just wait for him to be done and force his company on him again at that point. Until then, he’ll try to figure out what he did in the past weeks and who he might have offended that he ended up in the body of a cat.

Tetsurou doesn’t believe in curses.

But right now he’s stuck as a cat, so maybe he should start to.

—

Tetsurou falls asleep on the ground next to the office door. He doesn’t mean to, but evening settling over the house leaves it dark, and his body feels sluggish with it, his thoughts not enough to keep him awake. Tetsurou has always had trouble matching pace with how late Kenma prefers to stay up, and tonight he’s probably pushing it, just to distract himself.

He startles awake when the office door opens again, light hitting the hallway and making Kenma loom over him in an almost uncomfortable way.

Tetsurou really doesn’t expect Kenma to lean down and pick him up, and he chirps in surprise as his mind becomes a lot more awake instantly.

What he also really doesn’t expect is for Kenma to wordlessly carry him through the hallway and into the living room, turning on lights as he goes, and then opening the inner sliding door to the engawa and then the outer one to the garden.

And then just as suddenly as he was picked up, Kenma sets him back down again in the opening to the garden. When Tetsurou blinks up at Kenma, he’s met with tired eyes and Kenma mumbling, “It’s bedtime.”

Some part of Tetsurou is very fond of the fact that Kenma, despite pronouncing it dumb earlier, continues to talk to him like he is human and can understand. Which he is and can. The other part of him takes a lot longer to process what the hell bedtime has to do with going outside. Surely Kenma doesn’t plan to lock him out of the house for the night, right? He wouldn’t do that. That would mean taking the risk of him not returning because any normal cat would probably wander off, certainly if it was a stray. And that would ruin the purpose of Kenma taking him home with himself to not let Tetsurou die in his own apartment.

So what-

Oh.

Bedtime.

Kenma’s going to bed. And a sleeping Kenma isn’t to be disturbed in the same way a working Kenma isn’t. Waking up in the middle of the night or too early without wanting to is a thing Kenma abhors. And Tetsurou has been trapped in the body of a cat for a while now, and he’s been trapped inside for just as long.

Suddenly, he’s very aware of the fact that the last time he went to the bathroom was as a human after coming home drunk in the late evening. He’s also very aware of how he usually goes to use the bathroom first thing after waking up. Routine.

He didn’t this morning because he woke up as a cat, and that took precedent over everything else. But now that he thinks about it, he needs to pee. Oh, he really needs to pee.

Tetsurou meows and jumps down the engawa into the garden. He blinks, becomes a little too aware of how well he can still see despite the surroundings being dark, only the square of light the open sliding doors let out lighting part of the area. Then he scampers off towards some of the bushes that aren’t lit up.

Behind him, he hears Kenma say, “Shit,” and then footsteps. But Tetsurou doesn’t pay too much attention. Instead, he makes his way underneath the bushes because his body is screaming at him, and he’s not about to be uncivilized and pee just out in the open. He has manners and some shame left. He’s in the process of settling into a position that he desperately hopes will keep him from accidentally peeing on himself — he will never let himself live it down if that happens — when suddenly there’s a bright light shining directly into his eyes, only partially obstructed by the leaves above him.

“There you are,” Kenma says and sounds the slightest bit panicked. “Don’t go running off.”

Because Tetsurou doesn’t know what else to do, he hisses at Kenma and backs away deeper underneath the bush. There’s never going to be a more embarrassing moment in his life after this. He’s sure of it. Because Kenma keeps standing there, totally unperturbed, and with the flashlight of his phone illuminating the space Tetsurou has picked as a poor excuse for a toilet. And sure, Tetsurou could make a run for it, find a different place to hide, but he has a feeling that Kenma would follow him, just to make sure he’s not losing sight of him.

Oh, how Tetsurou wishes he could make it very obvious that there’s no chance of him running off like a normal cat, but that instead he will gladly come right back to Kenma’s side the second he’s done here. But instead, he’s stuck here, Kenma right next to him, and nature making itself known.

There’s nothing to do but give in.

He’ll make Kenma pay for this once he’s back in his human body.

At least this way, he doesn’t have to deal with the added embarrassment of having Kenma clean up after him again. The vomit part was bad enough. Using a litter box and knowing Kenma is the one scooping up after him would be the end of him and his dignity.

Once Tetsurou is done, he makes his way out from underneath the bush again and, without even giving Kenma a chance to catch him, he dashes back towards the house, jumps less than elegantly onto the engawa, and makes his way back into the living room and right back underneath the kotatsu, back to hiding in his shame.

Kenma follows slower, accompanied by the sound of closing doors and soft steps. He dares to peek underneath the kotatsu — probably to make sure that Tetsurou is actually back inside and he saw that correctly — and Tetsurou meets him with another hiss and backs away to the opposite side. He’d really like to have a moment to himself here to process that the guy he’s in love with just more or less watched him pee underneath a bush, if that’s not too much to ask. Though Kenma offers him a glare in return, he seems satisfied with the knowledge that he’s there and leaves him be afterward, flicking off the light as his footsteps leave the room.

Great.

Less than a day like this and Tetsurou has already hit rock bottom of cat life. He knows that the only thing that will make this worse is the fact that if he’s still a cat by tomorrow, the question of where he is will no longer be asked in confusion by friends and family, but instead in the form of a missing person case by the police.

Being a cat sucks.

—

The rest of the 24-hour deadline passes surprisingly uneventfully. Most of it is spent sleeping on Tetsurou's side.

Because he once more falls asleep underneath the kotatsu in his shame, and when he wakes up again, he feels like he’s starving. So he worms his way back out and finds the leftover cat food from last night sitting in the kitchen, right where Kenma set it down for him. He scarfs it down and ignores the water bowl because the trauma of having to pee in front of Kenma is still very much right at the forefront of his mind.

When he’s done, he considers that he should make his way back to the living room and the kotatsu — it’s a nice spot to sleep, he likes the safety being boxed in by the blanket offers — but it’s almost automatically that he turns down the hallway and wanders towards Kenma’s bedroom. Just a quick peek. Just to make sure he’s sleeping and not awake and still playing games.

The door to the bedroom is just far enough open for Tetsurou to squeeze through. And just as he hoped, he finds the room dark, Kenma only a lump of blankets on the bed, and the sound of his breathing filling the air. There’s the slightest hint of a snore to it, one that Tetsurou would have probably missed as a human, and it makes a wave of fondness fill him. Before he’s even thought it through fully, he’s on the bed already, carefully making his way across it.

Kenma’s face is barely peaking out from between his hair and the blanket, but he looks relaxed and comfortable. Like everything is fine and there’s nothing to worry about.

All Tetsurou wants to do is lie down with him and believe that to be true.

So he does, moves in as close as he dares to before he curls up in a neat circle, tail tucked underneath a paw, and ears and whiskers twitching with the ticklish hint of Kenma’s breathing brushing along them.

He dozes off and wakes back up to the sleep-filled glare of Kenma and the eerie glow of an early morning, sun not yet up but making its way there.

“Get out,” Kenma mumbles into the blanket, tugs it with him as he rolls away, and in turn dislodges Tetsurou from his quite comfortable position.

He chirps his protest and settles back down on the pillow, a lot closer, and very much on top of Kenma’s hair.

“So clingy,” Kenma mumbles, and then a moment later, he reaches up, pokes at him. And it's a testament to how quickly Kenma has given up on pretending he doesn't want him around when, despite the annoyance in his voice, he leaves his touch gentle, makes no move to actually kick him out. Instead, he even leaves his fingers lying on the pillow, wriggling them in an obvious invitation that Tetsurou gladly takes. He’s only had chin scratches a few times, and he already knows he loves them. So really, it's an easy choice to move his head onto Kenma's hand.

It doesn’t take much for the purr to start up somewhere in his chest, and he hears Kenma sigh quietly.

The silence settles back over them, and he feels the movement of Kenma's fingers slow until they stop, relaxing beneath the weight of Tetsurou’s head. Kenma's breathing returns to the steady in and out from before. He's asleep again.

And even if Tetsurou finds he's wide awake now, no sleepiness left over, and ears and eyes alert, he stays there, stretches out his limbs before settling back down as he keeps Kenma company until he wakes again after what might have been an hour, might have been two — keeping track of time is hard as a cat.

Kenma wakes up slowly, breathing growing a little uneven again as he shifts around for a bit before he stills completely. When Tetsurou sits up, he catches Kenma staring at the ceiling, blinking slowly and sleepily still.

He chirps, and Kenma's gaze shifts to him. A second of silence passes between them, a moment where they stare at each other, and Tetsurou wills Kenma to look a little closer, to take note that he's not quite cat enough. Then the moment passes, Kenma mumbling, “I didn't dream this,” as he pushes upright, hisses when some of his hair pulls free from beneath Tetsurou.

No, Kenma didn’t dream this in the same way Tetsurou didn’t.

They get up.

Kenma gets dressed for the day — outside clothes instead of sweatpants, and that alone fills Tetsurou with a looming dread of reality — and Tetsurou lingers in the hallway, while he waits for him to wash up. Only when he hears the bathroom door open again does Tetsurou scamper after Kenma and meet him with an expectant meow at the kitchen door.

“Breakfast, right,” Kenma mumbles, and then proceeds to prepare a fresh plate of cat food, and then makes no move to get himself anything but a glass of water.

Tetsurou tries his best to glare at him, meows loudly, and when even that doesn't get a reaction, bats with a paw at Kenma's leg.

He's met with Kenma pushing him away with his foot, and saying, “You have your food.”

In the middle of another protesting meow — that is not what this was supposed to be about, Kenma needs to eat, too! — Kenma's phone starts ringing.

It's been a while since Tetsurou has seen Kenma move this quickly, pulling it out of his pocket and answering without even checking the caller ID, a hasty, “Hello?” leaving him.

It's been even longer since Tetsurou has seen Kenma's face fall like that, the hint of hope falling away to give room for the disappointment and sadness of it definitely not being Tetsurou on the other side of the call. After a second, Kenma slumps back against the counter, says, “No, I haven't heard from him.”

He sounds dejected. Upset even.

Tetsurou turns away and focuses his attention on eating his breakfast to try and drown out the conversation Kenma has. Whatever it was that turned Tetsurou into a cat doesn't matter because in the end, he's still at fault for Kenma having to deal with it. He's still at fault for the confusion and worry — maybe even anger — that are filling probably not just Kenma but his family as well.

“I'll go by his place again, yeah,” Kenma says. “Do you need-” A pause, a second too long, and when Tetsurou glances back at him, Kenma is staring right at him, mouth pulled tight. “No, there wasn't anything off when I went there yesterday.”

The obvious lie of it makes Tetsurou perk up. Because there was definitely something off, and that something was a cat being left to its own devices in that apartment. Now, why Kenma wouldn’t mention that? Tetsurou has no idea.

It gets worse when Kenma adds, “Actually, did he say anything about getting a cat?”

Now that Tetsurou is no longer eating, he can hear the faint echo of what is probably his father’s voice from the phone. Not clear enough to make out, but clear enough to make the confusion, the cadence of a question in his voice obvious.

“Uhm, no, no reason. Just something he mentioned.”

Such a bad liar, Tetsurou thinks, and returns his attention to his water bowl. He’s a little more successful, even if by the end he’s still got more water clinging to his face than he swallowed. He shakes some of it off, rubs his paw along his face to try and get rid of the rest, and that works sort of well at least. Give him a few more tries, and he’ll have this figured out. A little adaption won’t be the worst. Who knows how long he’ll be stuck like this.

“I’ll see you later,” Kenma finally says, and a moment later, his phone loudly drops to the kitchen counter, startling Tetsurou a little. He chirps, but it gets drowned out by Kenma making a frustrated noise and then stomping out of the kitchen.

A moment later, he’s back in the doorway, glaring at Tetsurou as if he offended him personally simply by being present, and clicks his tongue a few times. When Tetsurou doesn’t immediately move, he adds, “Cat, come here.”

Really, Tetsurou thinks, that’s his name now?

He follows Kenma anyway and finds himself once again led to the sliding doors to the garden. Seems like it’s bathroom time again, great. But it makes sense if Kenma plans to leave the house. So Tetsurou submits himself to his will and lets himself once again be followed around the garden — he’ll figure out how to prove to Kenma that he’s not going to run off — until he finds a place underneath a different bush and tries not to let his shame get to him.

Still between the embarrassment and the reality of how the rest of the day will go looming over him, Tetsurou hides underneath the kotatsu once again and prays to whatever deity he can think of to be turned back into a human. He’s already ready to do just about anything for it. Even if what he needed to do was confess his feelings to Kenma in turn. He’d gladly ruin their friendship if it meant he could have the chance at apologizing for causing any worry.

At half past three, Tetsurou joins Kenma, where he’s standing in the hallway, quietly muttering, “Please, just pick up,” as he dials his number one more time.

Tetsurou sits and watches as the desperate hope leaves Kenma's face and gets replaced by actual worry.

He doesn't acknowledge Tetsurou when he meows up at him.

Instead, Kenma steps into the genkan, pulls on shoes and a jacket, and wordlessly leaves the house.

He doesn't come back until late into the night.

Tetsurou, for all he could've, hasn't moved from his spot at the genkan, waited patiently for Kenma's return because it's the least he can do. Kenma stares down at him dumbly when he flicks on the light, like he forgot for a second that he now has a cat sitting around at home, someone who’s waiting for him.

“You’d think his family would have been more insistent about involving the police,” Kenma offers as a greeting, then grimaces as he sits down on the step of the genkan. He pushes his hair out of his face, hands pressing to his forehead as he sighs. The exhaustion of the day is written all over his face. “Everyone asked so many stupid questions.”

What a nice thing to hear about your own family. Tetsurou meows and straightens up, paws pressing into Kenma's arm, so he can rub his face against his shoulder. Comfort. All he can do right now is offer silent support and company in whatever way he can manage. In whatever way, Kenma will let him really.

“Everybody made it sound like he just up and left without any of his things. As if Kuro would disappear like that.” Kenma looks down at him then, amusement coloring his features. “Though I guess nobody would kidnap 190 cm and 90 kg of annoyance wrapped in a human, now would they? He’d probably scam any kidnappers into turning themselves in to the police.”

Tetsurou not so gently digs his claws into Kenma's arm, meows with a little too much force. He’s not that heavy, thank you very much.

Kenma twitches at the prickling of his claws but then snorts. “And here I go again talking to you. As if you get anything I'm saying.”

Tetsurou nudges his head into Kenma's arm once more. Because he still does understand perfectly fine, and he still can't see an issue with talking to an animal. This time, Kenma lifts his other hand and pets over his head. “Let's get you some dinner, hm?”

If he were human, he'd right about now groan and complain at the thought of having to eat the same food another meal in a row. As it is, he just submits himself to his fate and slinks after Kenma towards the kitchen. He is kind of hungry. Though this time, he joins Kenma back on top of the counter to watch him prepare the plate of cat food. And then he stays sitting there and stares at Kenma after he's placed the fresh plate on the ground next to the newly filled water bowl.

Kenma pauses for a second, stares back. “What?”

Tetsurou meows.

Kenma blinks.

Tetsurou meows again and makes no move to jump down again.

For a second, there's something unfamiliar that flashes across Kenma's features. Then he shakes his head, and it's gone as quickly as it showed up.

Now here’s the thing.

Tetsurou has had a lot of time to think this afternoon. And he knows how Kenma gets. If his brain is busy thinking and overthinking, there's not much else he focuses on, and while he does still reach for snacks and juice along the way, he does forget to eat proper meals sometimes. And it's clear as day that Tetsurou’s apparent disappearance stresses and worries Kenma in some form. There’s no way he’s not trying to figure out where Tetsurou could have disappeared to in the middle of the night, and more importantly, why he would just disappear.

So if food isn't Kenma's priority, it wouldn’t be that surprising. But Tetsurou feels like if he's here, he can at least do his damn best to make sure Kenma eats something. And if that means not eating until Kenma gets the hint that Tetsurou will eat when he eats as well, then so be it. He can figure out how to get that much across without being able to use words. And if he’s starving himself until he does, it’s a small sacrifice in favor of taking care of Kenma. Especially if he's the cause of his misery.

Tetsurou meows once more and is met with an annoyed sigh.

“I don’t know what you want from me. There’s you’re food. Eat or don’t, I don’t care.”

Kenma leaves the room, though he doesn't go to bed — he should — and despite it being way past his usual stream time, he still disappears into his office and once again locks Tetsurou out of it.

They repeat the same routine as the night before.

Except this time, Kenma shuts the bedroom door in his face as well, which is just plain rude. Tetsurou’s offended meow is met with a dry, “It’s my bed,” through the door, and then silence settling over the house.

Two can play this game though. So Tetsurou yowls his little lungs out as loud as he can, and when that doesn’t get an immediate reaction, he lifts his front paws and, with his claws out, scratches them along the door in front of him.

It barely takes a minute before there’s a loud “I said scram!” from the other side.

Tetsurou allows for a second of silence before he yowls his most desperate sounding sound.

Then there are footsteps, the door being opened, and for a second, Tetsurou seriously wonders if Kenma would kick a cat because the face he’s making is in dangerous territory. But then he says, “He’s going to pay for this,” and with the door left open, stomps back to his bed.

Tetsurou follows, a lot more gleeful even if he knows that he's the one who'll pay.

Though he keeps his distance when he curls up on the bed, lest Kenma might try smothering him with a pillow if he dares to come too close from the start.

He tries his hardest to stay awake until Kenma sleeps. But he barely manages a few minutes before he’s dozing off already.

Doing nothing seems to be much more exhausting than he ever thought possible.

—

By Tuesday evening, he can see Kenma getting mad at him over his sudden weird aversion to eating and his even weirder behavior of yowling whenever Kenma passes by or opens the fridge and then gets nothing of substance out of it for himself.

“I hate you,” Kenma grumbles as he plops into his own seat at the kitchen table and picks up his chopsticks.

Tetsurou gleefully meows and rubs along his legs.

Kenma pushes him away with his foot.

“So damn annoying.”

Pot calling the kettle, Tetsurou thinks as he scampers over to his own food. He keeps his ears perked for the sound of Kenma eating, and the second he hears him place down his chopsticks, he turns away from his own food and goes back to glaring and yowling at Kenma.

Kenma finishes most of his food and doesn’t even try to lock him out of the bedroom that night.

Progress.

—

By Thursday evening, Kenma's day off from streaming, it's obvious that Kenma is not doing well.

He's not unwell. He's certainly functioning and passing as a member of society. He's working as normal, he's gaming and streaming, keeping his hands and mind occupied as much as he can. And by now, Tetsurou has gotten Kenma to somewhat understand that the only way to get him to eat is to eat himself. But despite that, things are off. Kenma talks on the phone a lot more, texts people constantly. Tetsurou doesn't know who’s on the other end of the conversation all the time, but it's clear that it's a mixture of family and friends, sometimes even officials. Probably even some of Tetsurou's coworkers. Just anybody who could care about his disappearance. Anybody who could know anything.

Sometimes Kenma checks out for minutes at a time, stares at his phone or something not even there. Goes completely silent. The trigger is always without doubt, Tetsurou. The missing human version of him, that is. And always without fail, Kenma pulls himself back together with a shaky breath and a lot of worry on his features that makes Tetsurou’s stomach twist into knots and his heart ache.

But on Thursday, Kenma takes his tablet into the living room, settles with it at the kotatsu, and tugs the blanket over himself as he turns the tablet on.

Tetsurou uses this as another chance to try and climb into Kenma's lap. He's been pushing over the past days, seeing how long it'll take before Kenma cracks and admits that he actually enjoys having a cat around. Because sure, he calls Tetsurou annoying in every second sentence, but then he still lets him share his bed, still lets him follow him throughout the whole house, and lets him make himself comfortable on counters and tables alike. The only limit is Kenma's patience when Tetsurou brushes against his legs, when Tetsurou tries to join him in his office, or when he tries to climb into his lap. Kenma doesn't let him get away with those, and he's always for sure pushed away or off.

Sure enough, Kenma pushes him away from his lap immediately with one hand while the other stays on his tablet, tapping against the screen. He sends a withering glare down at him. “Scram.”

Tetsurou meows his displeasure loudly at the same moment that on screen a video call connects.

“Since when do you have a cat?” Yaku's voice comes from the tinny speakers of the laptop.

“Yaku,” Kenma greets, plucks the smallest of smiles from somewhere, as he turns his attention back to the screen, hand still hovering next to him in protection of his lap.

Tetsurou meows again, and instead of trying once more for Kenma's lap, he positions himself at the table, places his paws on the edge of it, and stretches himself into the frame of the camera. On screen, Yaku looks taken aback by his appearance and once more says, “Where did the cat come from?”

Kenma sighs, but instead of pushing Tetsurou away again, just tugs at his ear softly. “Kuro’s apartment.”

“Kuroo got a cat?” Yaku says, and his voice is full of disbelief. “Why? He's already got you.”

“Funny,” Kenma says without any humor found in his voice, and then adds, “Pets aren't allowed in his apartment complex. I don't know why it was there. It didn't have food or a litter box. Nothing. It was just locked up there.”

“That doesn't sound like Kuroo.”

Tetsurou gives up staring at the screen in favor of bumping his head into Kenma's fingers. The second Kenma starts actually scratching him, even if absentmindedly, he feels the purr rumble out of him.

“It doesn't. He wouldn't do that on a normal day, and he wouldn't do it if he planned to ditch his old life and start a new one.”

There's a moment of silence, only broken by Tetsurou still purring. He doesn't really feel like it anymore, but Kenma is still petting him, and it's like it's an involuntary reaction to it.

“The police still think he just left?”

Kenma hums. “What else would they think? There was no sign of forced entry, no reports of anything suspicious happening around the neighborhood. One of his co-workers took the same train home as him and saw him get off at his station. One of his neighbors left for the konbini when he came home. He texted me to ask if I didn't want to visit home with him on Saturday after all.”

“That's-”

“Nothing says he didn't get home safely and stayed there.” Kenma pulls his hand back, drops it into his lap. Tetsurou chirps and immediately abandons his stance against the table to be able to look at Kenma fully. He looks a lot more upset than he has on any other day since Tetsurou disappeared. “Just the same way that nothing says he left his place on purpose. His phone and wallet were there, all his shoes were there. He had a stocked fridge. All his important documents were there. All his favorite things were still right there. And on top of that, this stupid cat.” Kenma huffs. “He wouldn't just ditch his life like that.”

On screen, Yaku stays silent for a second longer, then he mutters, “He might have. Sometimes people hide stuff well.”

“No,” Kenma snaps. Tetsurou flinches, ears pressing flat against his head. “He didn't run.”

“Yeah, he's too stupid to pull something like this off without a trace.” Yaku snorts. “Maybe he got himself cursed and turned into that cat. Would explain some things at least.”

Tetsurou snaps his head towards the laptop. But before he can do anything else, Kenma starts laughing. Full on and loudly, and Tetsurou meows indignantly because Yaku's right. For once in his existence, Yaku is right, and Tetsurou can't even tell him. Because he is indeed stuck as a cat. A blessing in disguise.

“You know,” Kenma says, still laughing, “The cat's certainly annoying enough. Maybe I should just start calling it Kuro as well.”

Tetsurou feels like he might cry, and he bats at Kenma's leg and yowls as miserably as he can.

Kenma pushes him away, probably assuming that he's about to scale his lap again. “Listen to him. He's always yelling when I don't pay attention to him.”

“Yeah, Kuroo does that, too, doesn't he?” There's dejection in Yaku's voice. “Sucks that curses aren't real.”

“I wish they were,” Kenma says. And then he's suddenly crying, full on and with sobs wracking his body. He curls in on himself, hands pressing to his face. Tetsurou freezes next to him.

“I'm so sorry, Kenma,” Yaku says and sounds so close to tears himself. “I wish I knew anything that could help find him.”

There's not much that Tetsurou hates more than seeing Kenma cry. It's such a rare thing, and it's always just as harrowing. It's even worse now that Tetsurou knows it's because of him, and there's nothing he can do to fix this, and he wishes he could cry right along with him and wrap him up in a hug and never let go again. Instead, he tries to push once again, tries to make his way onto Kenma's lap, butting his head into his arm and chirping. Anything to try and offer comfort.

Anything to try and make the pain better that Tetsurou caused himself, no matter if he still doesn't know what he did to end up like this.

And Kenma lets him.

For the first time, Kenma lets him, and instead of pushing him off, actually reaches down and wraps his hands around his body and drags him up until he's tucked against Kenma's neck, until Kenma can press his cheek to his head and squeeze him just the tiniest bit too tightly. Tetsurou wants to cry. Instead, he chirps again and starts purring, rubs his head up against Kenma's face, whiskers twitching.

It takes minutes before Kenma is calmer again, and by then the fur on Tetsurou's head feels matted with his tears, itches uncomfortably, and he wants nothing more than to rub it dry. But he also really doesn't want to move. Kenma is warm, and it's like whatever magic turned Tetsurou into a cat, it made him a big cat, sure, but also a really good size for fitting into Kenma's arms. Being properly held by Kenma is nice. He needs to hug Kenma more often when he's back as a human. Maybe really never let him go again once he's got him in his arms. That'd be nice. Maybe Kenma would even be more open to his physical affections once he's back. Though in reality, he's probably going to fight Tetsurou even harder on everything as punishment for disappearing.

Tetsurou makes a quiet sound, and only realizes then that he completely purred himself into a trance and didn't even realize that Kenma and Yaku had picked up their conversation again. He tunes into the tail end of Kenma saying, “-maybe that's why he was avoiding me. He isn't good at lying to me.”

“Trust me,” Yaku says with so much conviction in his voice that it comes out almost forced, “Him avoiding you has nothing to do with this. That was just him being a stupid idiot.”

A second of silence, then Kenma says, “You know something.”

Yaku makes a pained noise. “I think everybody except you might.”

Tetsurou suddenly has a very good idea of what Yaku is talking about, and for a moment, he freezes.

“Yaku, if it helps finding-”

“It wouldn't,” Yaku interrupts. “I'm not making this worse for you by telling you. He can do that when he's back. Because he will be.”

“Yaku, you-”

Tetsurou yowls, screams his lungs out, and Kenma flinches, hold loosening immediately. Tetsurou pushes out of it with too much force and goes tumbling right back off Kenma's lap and to the ground. Kenma stares at him as if he's gone insane, but it doesn't matter. He needed to stop this conversation in an instant. He can't risk Kenma finding out, not like this. Not from Yaku of all people! There's never been a worse moment for Kenma to hear about how Tetsurou has been in love with him for years.

So Tetsurou fumbles upright and goes right for the tablet. Maybe if he ends the call, the conversation topic will stop and never see the light of day again.

He barely manages to knock over the tablet though before Kenma's hands are wrapped around him again and pull him back.

Tetsurou yowls again.

“Calm down,” Kenma says as he pushes Tetsurou onto the ground, making him cower, one hand tightening on his scruff and staying there to keep him right in that position, even as Kenma reaches for the tablet to place it upright again. Tetsurou meows miserably but doesn't fight it. It's an uncomfortable feeling to be held like that, makes him too aware of the strength behind Kenma's gentle yet firm touch and the fragility of a cat's body. “Sorry, he's such a nuisance.”

Yaku snorts. “You seem to have it handled.”

“This isn't handling,” Kenma says, his hold on skin and fur loosening slowly and turning into more of a steady pressure, “Scruffing isn't good for adult cats. Kuro's been telling me off for doing it to the strays when they sneak inside. Even if I never pick them up like this, it’s still stressful for them.”

There's a knowing hum from Yaku’s side, amusement coloring his next words, “But it's a convenient method of holding a cat in place, hm. I'm pretty sure Kuroo has done it to you in the past, too.”

“I'm going to hang up,” Kenma threatens, and his hand finally leaves Tetsurou's neck. Tetsurou uses the chance to move a little further away, just out of immediate reach. Only then does he turn and does his best to glare at Kenma. If he's been listening to him about the scruffing, then why is he still doing it? They will so have words about this when he's back in his human body.

Yaku's responding laughter is irritating and grating, but it doesn't cut off in the middle, proving Kenma's threat as a warning for now. “You know,” Yaku says after a moment, “You might want to treat the cat more carefully. He's technically evidence in a missing person case.”

Kenma stays silent, and Tetsurou watches his expression change into one of guilt, the pink of a blush creeping up on his cheeks and joining the splotchiness left over from the tears.

After a few seconds, Yaku says, “You told the police about the cat, right?”

Kenma grimaces, looks away. “I told the police about the cat, yes. He was screaming the whole place down when I left. There's no way his neighbors didn't hear him.”

There's obviously more to it. Kenma's expression makes that much obvious. Worse, it reads not just as guilty but also as upset.

“But?” Yaku prompts.

“I said it ran off when I unlocked the door.”

Tetsurou meows his surprise out in the same moment that Yaku says incredulously, “You lied to the police?”

“It just happened! They asked about the cat, and I panicked. I don't-” Kenma makes a frustrated noise. “It’s just a cat! How much could it tell them anyway?”

A lot, Tetsurou thinks. He could tell the police a lot, but he's certain they wouldn't understand a thing he tells them or tries showing them. Worse, they'd probably deem him annoying far quicker, and who knows where he'd end up then. Police stations probably aren't equipped to hold animals, so a shelter with other animals and a too small space. No Kenma, and no idea how to get back to him. No idea if Kenma would have cared enough to get him once the case was done. And realistically speaking — with no clue how to turn back into a human yet — Tetsurou would much rather spend the rest of his life as Kenma's cat than stuck in a shelter or being adopted by strangers.

So will Tetsurou forgive Kenma for whatever misery he puts him through for forever? Absolutely. Kenma made the choice to keep him. He's here because Kenma decided he would stay with him twice already.

“I'm sure more than you think,” Yaku says.

Kenma huffs, but Tetsurou ignores the obvious frustration sitting in him and slowly inches his way back to him — he wants to show his appreciation, okay?

“I know, alright. It's not like I haven't been feeling bad about it since then.”

“Then go tell them you found it!”

“I can't,” Kenma says, and Tetsurou uses that moment to make his presence known again, trilling as he bumps his head into Kenma's leg. He can feel Kenma watch him as he then proceeds to climb onto his lap. But he makes no move to push him away, and Tetsurou can settle in on top of Kenma without a fight. He calls it a win. Especially when Kenma's fingers scratch through the thick fur between his ears before moving to his chin. The purr rumbles out of him at the same moment that Kenma continues with, “If Kuro's- If he got this cat to force it onto me, I'm not letting it go again until he's home and I can make him do the work of handing it off to a shelter.”

Yaku's responding, “Kenma,” is much softer, much more gentle. As if Kenma's the scared animal being talked to, and maybe he is to some extent. Tetsurou surely wouldn't be handling this as well if it was Kenma who'd disappeared. That Kenma only broke down today for the first time makes him wonder how much he's been rationalizing this, trying to make any sense of this at all, and figure out all the things that could have hinted at this happening. “He's going to come home.”

“Of course he will.”

Funnily enough, neither of them sounds like they are fully convinced of it.

Tetsurou meows, gets Kenma tugging softly at his ear in response.

All Tetsurou can do is stay curled up on Kenma's lap even after he ends the call with Yaku.

Kenma lets him, his hand gently resting on Tetsurou's back.

And when Tetsurou follows him to his bedroom later, Kenma invites him up on the mattress with a gentle patting motion without any complaint.

This time, Tetsurou makes sure to stay awake until Kenma has fallen asleep.