Work Text:
At first, Itachi thought he was finally devolving into insanity.
It wouldn’t be surprising to succumb to madness considering everything he’d done, but imagining the cries of a kitten was certainly an interesting way to start it. Itachi had first heard the faintest cry during an early morning grocery run - however, because Itachi had risen before the sun, the darkness made it impossible to decipher where the noise was coming from, or whether or not it was real at all. When he returned from the store just over an hour later, he looked carefully around the front yard. There was no creature to be seen. He brushed the thought off, retreating indoors, only to hear the cries again and similarly fail to locate its source. His descent into madness had finally begun.
Almost a week later, Itachi heard the cries again. This time, he was quick to react, and he swiftly headed to the front yard where the cries continued. Pushing past the tall grass, Itachi watched as a small creature sprinted past a tree stump. Upon further inspection, it was finally revealed to be a small kitten cowering into a small hole beneath the tree, its cries muffled with the thickness of the brush. It was a very real, tangible creature in front of him - there was no longer a pinging cry in his subconscious, a delicate wonder in his skull questioning his own sanity.
How this kitten ended up on Itachi’s lawn is unknown. There were no known strays around, nor any other kittens that had been discovered. At first, he considered leaving the kitten. His instincts told him that this cat was abandoned for a reason, that there was something fundamentally wrong with this kitten. Perhaps the mother knew, with her seemingly omniscient and pragmatic understanding, that this kitten was different from the rest of her litter. A mother will defend her young until her dying breath, but she will not accept a kitten that she has deemed too weak to be worth saving. This kitten had been identified as deficient in some capacity - although Itachi noticed no injuries or physical concerns on the creature - and as consequence, must be pushed aside - for the litter, as a whole, must be protected. Everything, in all of its pain and beauty, is for the sake of the litter, after all.
So when Itachi scooped up the kitten gently, listening to its whimpers and hissing, he examined the creature carefully. There must have been a reason that this kitten was abandoned, and he was determined to understand. There were no obvious injuries though, no visible indications of illness or weakness. Its eyes danced across his face, making its own observation and examination of the creature that held it. The kitten was just helpless.
Itachi told himself that he wouldn’t keep the kitten, but there was a stirring in his chest at the thought of leaving it in the dark. It would be getting even colder overnight, and the kitten was already shivering, so he reluctantly brought it inside. There, he plugged in his heated blanket and folded it gently into a bed for the kitten, placing it carefully onto the fabric and watching it instantly stop shaking. When the cries continued, however, Itachi then turned to his next solution.
In the kitchen, he prepared a meal. He had some fish left over from his dinner last night that he planned on saving for a snack, but he still unwrapped it and placed it on the skillet to reheat alongside a serving of rice. As it heated, he wondered to himself about whether or not cats could have rice. After the dish was to his satisfaction, he placed the fish and rice on a plate for himself, then scooped out a small portion to put on a paper plate.
At his feet, the kitten cried. It had smelled the fish and, desperate to relieve its hunger, pawed at Itachi’s socks. He looked down and watched it plead, and he mentally noted that the kitten was barely as big as his foot. Knowing nothing of the animal, he guessed it couldn’t be older than a few weeks. Itachi replaced his presence with the paper plate and turned to his own meal, deciding to stand in the kitchen and eat alongside his guest.
The cat hummed as it ate, which provided ample entertainment to Itachi as he consumed his dinner. It had finished the meal much quicker than Itachi anticipated and, upon pawing at his feet and releasing more desperate cries, scarfed down a second helping of fish. When it had returned to Itachi’s socks to beg for more, the man could only shake his head and finish his own food, unsure of how much was too much for such a little body. When both meals were gone, the kitten began to wander toward the heated blanket again. The fabric was now extremely warm, which allowed the cat to bury itself beneath the blanket rather than lay on top of it. Itachi unplugged the heated blanket, not wanting the heat to become harmful to the kitten. The residual warmth was enough to keep the kitten satiated for the evening.
Itachi knew how to care for cats. His clan grounds had roaming cats before Itachi had left, and he was sometimes in charge of feeding them and picking up after them. This experience, while quite old and not very helpful, at least reminded him that the kitten in his home was going to need a space to relieve itself. Itachi, very against leaving his house at the moment, recalled that shredded newspaper was an appropriate substitute for cat litter on short notice. He would only have the kitten for the night, he reminded himself as he diligently shredded newspaper over a small flat tray. Once he decided there was enough, Itachi placed it in a convenient spot where the kitten would find it.
When the kitten did not wander toward the litter box on its own, Itachi considered if kittens knew instinctively that the litter box was for them, or if it was a learned behavior. After the kitten had walked past the box in favor of pawing at a piece of dust on the floor, Itachi decided that it might be a learned behavior. This resulted in him gently picking up the creature and placing it inside the bin, where his suspicions were proven incorrect once the kitten understood the purpose of the bin. It scratched at the newspaper to bury its waste, then hopped out of the bin, as if it had done so a thousand times before.
Itachi had nothing else to do that day. He planned on rereading a novel that he enjoyed, but this was already proving to be more entertaining. He did end up cracking open a book once the kitten laid back down on the folded blanket, only to quickly discover the creature stumbling over and crying out loudly. Curiously, Itachi looked at the kitten. It wasn’t hungry or cold and had access to a litter box. What else could it need?
It jumped at the couch, failing to latch on to the fabric. The kitten wasn’t strong enough to pull itself up, or heavy enough to even jump to begin with. Itachi carefully helped the kitten up, then watched as its cries ceased once it successfully made it onto his lap. With a heavy sigh, the kitten curled into a small circle right where Itachi was just resting his hand.
This isn’t good, Itachi thought. I can’t keep a cat.
There had to be something wrong with the cat. Itachi knew it. There was no reason for its mother to simply abandon it – there had to be something wrong. No amount of poking and prodding would reveal it to him, though, and he just had to accept the fact that the cat was in his lap now, gently purring.
He couldn’t keep a cat. What about all the time he spends away from home? Sure, an automatic feeder would take care of the food, but what about a litter box? What about socialization? A cat needed love, time, and dedication. Itachi had none of that at his disposal, none that he could spend on a kitten.
Still, the kitten tightened its curl, then released with another heavy sigh. It tried to dig between Itachi’s legs, but it was just too small to make any meaningful result. Itachi pulled a blanket over his lap.
Later that evening, Itachi was getting ready for bed. He had changed into his nighttime clothes, let his hair down, and affixed a pair of glasses to his face. The kitten had wandered away from Itachi eventually, favoring a fly that had been buzzing around. After pouncing and successfully killing the fly, the kitten chirped loudly, as if to announce its win. The noise of the kitten didn’t seem to bother Itachi – its desperate cries and absentminded chirping blended into the natural sounds of his home, like they were always meant to be there.
Itachi pulled back the blankets on his bed and got in. Just as he was about to shut off the lamp beside his bed, a cry sounded from the floor. The kitten stood, pawing at the bed frame the same way it pawed at the couch earlier. Once again, Itachi curiously helped the kitten onto the bed.
The kitten frolicked over to the pillow beside Itachi and, after circling the pillow twice, climbed on top of it and flopped over, a rumbling purr coming from its chest.
Itachi only turned off his light and listened to the gentle purrs beside him, pretending like it wasn’t starting to pull and twist something within his chest.
This kitten is defective, he reminded himself. There must be a reason for its mother to abandon it.
Throughout the night, Itachi awoke three times, as he usually does. Each time, he was ejected from his dreamscape with a reflexive gasp and a discomfort within his stomach. This was a frequent occurance in his nightly routine, and he knew that it would take nearly 20 minutes to fall back asleep after each interruption. During this time, he would stare at his eyelids, or pull the blanket above his head and curl into his own arms. His mind would wander to whatever subject it desired, and Itachi would wrangle his thoughts back and recenter. On his more disturbed nights, he would get out of bed and make a list of all the chores he had to complete the next day. Organizing his schedule often bored him enough to dissolve any unwanted thoughts, allowing him to sleep once more.
Tonight, however, his guest laid beside him. The kitten was still laid atop the pillow, its purrs having ceased and instead were replaced by deep breaths. Itachi watched the creature momentarily, seeing its body gently sway up and down with each breath. He thought of the tiny heart within the kitten, thinking of all the minuscule miracles that must have happened in order to create the being before him. He imagined just how small the heart could be. After only a few minutes of watching the kitten, Itachi's eyelids grew heavy once more. As he drifted back to sleep, the twisting in his chest resurfaced and faded with his thoughts.
The next time he awoke in the night, the kitten was no longer there. For a moment, everything felt exceedingly normal to Itachi - he had awoken in the middle of the night again, as per usual, and now had to stare at the ceiling for a few minutes until he fell back asleep. While he stared, though, he recalled the kittens presence in his bedroom just a few hours prior.
Itachi turned his head and scanned for the kitten. Upon finding it missing, he sat up within his bed. As he scanned his room, he pretended not to notice the heartbeat within his chest that was steadily rising. He was moments from getting out of bed when he heart a meow beneath the comforter. He raised it up gently and discovered the kitten curled up next to his hip, clearly disturbed by Itachi's movement. It stretched its tiny body, climbed up onto Itachi's lap, and laid back down. With an admittedly relieved sigh, Itachi rested his back upon the bed again.
As he stared at the ceiling, he felt the kitten shift. Beneath the blanket, it crawled up his body and settled on his chest, its gentle paws being hardly noticeable. He peered down at the creature and sighed. When It had curled back into a tight circle, purrs erupted from the kitten.
It enjoyed Itachi's presence somehow. The twisting in his chest was becoming borderline painful now, a nauseating pressure on his stomach surfacing as Itachi began to face the idea of him liking this kitten.
It is defective, he reminded himself. There is something wrong with it.
He repeated this phrase to himself a dozen more times, trying to drown out any other feelings within him.
But… Maybe it isn't, he reasoned eventually.
Perhaps the kitten is not defective. Perhaps it does not have an innate shortcoming that led to its mother deeming it worthless. Perhaps it was merely separated from its colony - perhaps the kitten had wandered just a bit too far, or had to run from a predator. Maybe this kitten was not defective in any capacity, and Itachi's mind had just used a familiar story to fill in the blanks.
In the morning, Itachi awoke to find the kitten laying on his chest, deep in slumber. He tried not to disturb the baby, and cupped it gently as he moved. Placing it under the warm covers, Itachi let the kitten sleep in for a little while longer.
When he glanced out the window, Itachi discovered that there was a fresh layer of snow on the ground - it was less than an inch, and not truly significant, but still well within the means of doing fatal damage to a kitten. Silently, he praised himself for saving the kitten from an unfortunate fate. However, the kitten still needed to face the frigid breeze that morning, as Itachi needed to, at the very least, get it into a veterinarian's office for a checkup.
While he walked, he wondered if the kitten could be microchipped. Maybe it was already part of a family and had simply escaped. He wasn't sure of how young a cat could be chipped, but he knew that it was a necessary part of owning a cat and any responsible owner would have their cat microchipped as soon as it was available. Additionally, Itachi wondered about a collar for the kitten, thinking that maybe its owners had linked one around its neck at some point.
The veterinarian was extremely kind to both Itachi and the kitten. She recognized his hesitancy and affirmed him that taking in the kitten and bringing it to the clinic was the best course of action. "If this little guy had been out in the snow, who knows what could have happened. We see lots of strays end up in bad situations once the snow hits," she said.
Itachi asked how old the kitten was. She held it gently, examining each feature of its body as it cried, and pursed her lips. "It's hard to tell, but I'd say anywhere from four to six weeks. Cats at six weeks should have all of their teeth in, and this one doesn't. That could be from being malnourished, or because it's simply not that old yet. In the same vein, I also can't really tell its sex quite yet."
Itachi nodded. "Do you know why it may have ended up at my door?"
She smiled. "Sometimes, cats choose their own families. It could've gotten into some trouble and gotten separated from its original family," She looked down, watching the kitten play with a string toy on the examination table, "or maybe something happened to its mother. Unless there's more kitties around, it's hard to say."
"It's not… Defective, though, right?" Itachi felt heat rise to his face at the question. He knew it was somewhat of a stupid question to ask, but he was out of his depth here.
The technician furrowed her brows. "The kitten?" Itachi nodded. "No! Of course not!"
She picked up the cat and gave it a kiss on top of its head. "There's no such thing as a defective cat. Some may need extra support in life, but that doesn't make it defective, just different!" She set it back down on the examination table. It purred loudly, stumbling toward Itachi. "In the wild, mother cats might be forced to abandon their babies if they can't provide for them. If this little friend didn't make the cut, that doesn't necessarily mean there's something wrong with it. I like to think of it as fate."
"Fate?" He asked. The kitten meowed and waved a paw in the air, looking desperately up at Itachi. He held his palm out, and pushed its his into his hand.
"Yeah, like, maybe this kitty was destined to end up on your door. Maybe it wasn't meant to be with its first family, maybe you were destined to be its new caretaker."
Itachi shook his head and pulled his hand back. "I can't. My job takes me away from home for days at a time, sometimes a week or more. I can't leave it alone like that."
The veterinarian shrugged. "Cats don't need much direct care. If you're gone for a week, you can just put out two or three litter boxes and a weeks worth of dry food. They're much more independent than dogs, for example."
On his walk home, Itachi heard the echoes of the conversation linger in his mind. There's no such thing as a defective cat.
Perhaps the mother knew, with her seemingly omniscient and pragmatic understanding, that this kitten was different from the rest of her litter - maybe she knew that this kitten would find itself wandering astray, living a life of its own desire, without the consideration of its colony. Maybe she knew that the kitten would stumble into the bushes of a strangers home who would find its purrs comforting. Maybe she understood that the kitten would survive and thrive in the heated blanket of an emotionally absent caretaker, and that it did not need to remain in her care any longer. Perhaps that is why she let the kitten wander, allowed it to stumble into the village streets and frolic through the windy bushes. The kitten was destined to be here, purring in the lap of Itachi Uchiha as he read his book on the couch.
"I think I will name you… Hanami."