Work Text:
Keisuke startles as Peke J lands on the table, having leapt through the gap of the balcony door into the bedroom. Chifuyu barely reacts, eyes fixed on the worksheet between them as he continues his explanation on the differences between all the measures of central tendency, but his hand reaches out to pet Peke J gently behind the ears. Peke J purrs, a happy sound that dies quickly as his eyes land on Mikey sprawled out on the floor nearby, who had been so averse to studying that he opted to read shōjo manga.
Oh no, Keisuke thinks. You too?
Keisuke watches as Peke J blinks, the slits to his eyes flexing, growing larger. As Peke J hops onto the floor next to Mikey, as soundless as nothing. As Peke J raises a paw and smacks Mikey right on the forehead.
"Ow—"
Mikey drops his manga, hands going up to cradle his face. Keisuke is pretty sure there are tears in his eyes.
Mikey puts the manga volume to the side and flips himself over, quickly pinpointing his attacker.
"A cat?!"
"Peke J," Chifuyu says, turning around in his seat. Peke J bounds over to Chifuyu, who picks him up. Peke J nuzzles Chifuyu on the cheek and neck, then settles against his chest, eyes closing. Chifuyu examines Mikey, and finally, Keisuke is relieved to notice, there is something other than suppressed nervousness in his gaze. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Mikey says, expression caught somewhere between baffled and awed. (Exposure therapy, Mikey had said. If I spend enough time around him, at some point, Chifuyu has to stop being scared of me, right? Keisuke thought the plan was stupid—clearly the superior option was getting a seal of approval from Peke J, Keisuke was right—)
"Is that Peke J?"
Apparently, Mikey is going to take getting hit by a cat in stride.
"Yes," Chifuyu says, a tiny smile on his face as he takes in the cat nestled in his arms.
"How did you meet him?" Mikey asks, taking this as a sign to move forward with his mission of winning Chifuyu over.
"Well," Chifuyu begins.
And he tells Mikey of how he had discovered Peke J in a cardboard box.
Of how Peke J had called out to him.
***
It is a maw of greedy nothingness. It hungers and hungers and hungers and hungers and hungers. It eats. On entities of the same likeness—made of sweet hate and grief and despair and pain and terror and envy and revulsion. On the golden smog drifting from vessels of fragile flesh and brittle bones. On vessels.
It eats, but the fullness always abates.
It moves, ever hungering, veering from one meal to the next.
It finds—a vessel with a core of gold, brilliant and glimmering and resplendent. It thinks of other vessels torn apart by its teeth and claws, leaking viscera and blood and that lovely, filling energy, bursting bright like solar flares and disappearing just as quickly. It thinks of that gold dying out—of losing a satisfying feast.
It hesitates.
It watches.
The vessel is crouched low on the ground, a hand extended out to pet another tinier, furred vessel. A cat, it knows, somehow.
It thinks.
***
The first time Chifuyu senses anything amiss is when he wakes up the day after he found Excalibur.
The air is lighter, Chifuyu thinks.
The shadow in the corner of his room is gone.
Chifuyu gets up, running through the steps of his morning routine. Everywhere he goes, that lightness persists—that constant, slight oppressive heaviness to his home gone.
Chifuyu cracks open a can of cat food and fills up the feeding dish, but after taking a few small bites, Excalibur loses interest.
"Are you not hungry?" Chifuyu wonders, a stir of worry in the pit of his stomach as he scratches Excalibur on the chin. "Did you eat already?"
Excalibur gives him no answer aside from a content, rumbling purr.
***
It is a dying thing, lying flat on its side, its vulnerable belly exposed to the world, too drained to run or fight or hide its weak spots away from any stray predator. Red seeps from a vertical gash down its head.
It is a dying thing, the tiny orb of light at its core flickering in and out and growing dimmer.
It draws closer.
***
"Is that safe?" Kojirō asks. "Letting your cat go outside?"
"Peke J will always come back," Chifuyu replies.
Optimism bordering on naïveté, some may think, but Keisuke knows Chifuyu better than that. Chifuyu always assumes the worst—that is part of what makes him such a great vice. Where Keisuke rushes in, Chifuyu stands back enough to see where things can go wrong, subverting or mitigating those unpleasant possibilities before they can become an even bigger problem.
It begs the question, then, of why Chifuyu is so sure that Peke J will always come back.
"Peke J was a stray before I found him," Chifuyu says. "He knows a threat when he sees one. He can keep himself safe."
"That so?" Kojirō asks.
Chifuyu hums.
"Well, what do I know about raising cats?" Kojirō shrugs. "More importantly, is Ryusei really trying to teach him to play the keyboard—"
***
Chifuyu sees Peke J curled up on his bed, and his gut sinks—something is wrong, and Peke J seems so still.
Chifuyu rushes over.
Peke J is cold when Chifuyu touches him, his body stiff, his chest unmoving—absence where the thump of a heart beating should be. Fear floods his entire being, immediate and devastating, because how can this be, is Peke J really—
Peke J moves, brown eyes opening, meowing up at Chifuyu inquisitively.
Chifuyu lets out a wet, choked noise. He was so sure, but Peke J is okay. Peke J is okay.
"You worried me," Chifuyu says, hugging the cat close to his chest.
Peke J lets him and purrs and purrs and purrs.
Somehow, Chifuyu knows that it is not a sound of contentment.
***
It swallows the dying thing, eating up that tiny, fading orb of light. It nestles inside the empty core and branches itself out, mending deteriorating cells and torn tissue and cracked bones until failing organs lurch to action.
***
This is his clearest memory of his father:
"Chifuyu," his father says, causing him to tear his eyes away from that blot of darkness on the asphalt. It had given him a terrible feeling, like staring down at a snake or a spider or off the edge of a sheer cliff. Somehow, he knew to instinctively fear that darkness. Chifuyu looks up to see his father staring at him. It is with weary, weary eyes. "What did you see?"
"A shadow," Chifuyu answers honestly.
"Ah," his father says, a crease between his brows, his expression complicated. A hand ruffles through his hair, comforting. After a long moment, his father speaks. "Chifuyu," there is a note of seriousness in his voice that Chifuyu has never heard before, that makes him pause and listen, "You cannot look at them."
"Why not?" Chifuyu asks, even though a part of him already inexplicably knows that peering directly at whatever they are is dangerous.
"They are lonely creatures," his father explains. "Always seeking a connection. If you look at them, they will latch onto you, and they will hurt you. Promise me you will never try to look at them."
"Okay," Chifuyu says.
***
Chifuyu watches Peke J as the cat lazes on his lap, purring blissfully as Chifuyu brushes a hand over his back. Something spills from his eyes, dark and prismatic and amorphous.
Peke J is powerful enough for Chifuyu to see even with these weak eyes. Chifuyu has seen shadows that felt many times more terrifying than Peke J cower in the presence of his adorable cat. Has seen them disperse as easily as smoke to the open wind.
"I hope my father can forgive me," Chifuyu says.
***
It is a maw of greedy nothingness. It is a curse of a cat that loves to hunt and feed and curl up against its human. It is dead and alive and made up of more than hate or fear or grief or anger or disgust or complete, agonising hopelessness.
Its name is Peke J.