| [Oct. 18th, 2015|11:33 pm] |
It was a surprisingly peaceful space. A simple and sunny one-bedroom affair, lit by large windows. The polished wooden floors were clean and swept. The kitchen was immaculate. A pale purple folding couch dominated the living room, set up in front of the TV, which was balanced on three stacked fruit crates. Two sliding screen doors stood half-open, showing part of a bedroom and a surprisingly large bathroom with a soaking tub.
It had the feeling of someone who lived a spartan lifestyle, but allowed themselves to indulge in a few things they really cared about. The kitchen appliances were shiny and new, but the TV and couch were clearly second-hand, though well cared for. Half a dozen paintings hung on the walls, carefully framed, and one picture scroll that looked like it must have been a gift. The bedsheets were plain and dark, but Kakashi would have bet money that the threadcount would’ve pleased a minor daimyou.
Not a single thing in the place was neon orange, painted with exploding rabbits, or made out of bubble wrap and harvested enemy skins.
There was fresh fruit on the kitchen counter.
“Nice place,” Kakashi said, as the cat folded up around his wrist and tried to eviscerate the underside. “I think you should keep him, by the way.”
Katsuko was in the bedroom, retrieving her broken kodachi from a special rack above the bed. She paused on her way back, looked at the cat, and then at Kakashi. “Why?”
“He tried to take on a jounin for you.” Kakashi dropped the cat, which fluffed at him, still hissing, and scrambled across the room to glare at him from behind Katsuko’s ankles. “Assuming that’s not an elaborate plan for someone’s summons to get inside your shields, it’s worth a second look.” He considered that, and added, “Unless he was just defending his sunning-spot, in which case kick him out and let’s go.”
“You’re a fluffy dumbass, you know that?” Katsuko said. Stung, Kakashi opened his mouth to snipe back before he realized she was talking to the cat, which meowed at her. “You could’ve been made into feline sushi.”
She stood for a moment, clearly thinking, while the cat leaned its matted side against her ankles and made threat-noises at Kakashi. Then she went into the kitchen, dumped a tin of white fish into a bowl, and set it down on the floor.
“There,” she said. “For your bravery.”
The cat slunk over, keeping one yellow eye on Kakashi, but the scent of fish was too much temptation. It jammed its face into the bowl, inhaling noisily.
“See? The two of you are meant to be,” Kakashi said dryly.
For once, she didn’t throw a comeback at him. She leaned on one hip, broken sword cradled against her side, and looked down at the ugly, battered animal eating so quickly it was almost wheezing.
Kakashi said, “He needs a bath.”
“Are you volunteering to help?” Katsuko asked, without looking up. The cat sneezed, spraying white flakes across the floor.
Kakashi wrinkled his nose. “I’d start by shaving him, and getting his teeth checked.”
“You hear that, stinky?” Katsuko asked the cat softly. “Pretty soon you’re going to be stinky and bald.”
“And giving him a better name,” Kakashi said.
Katsuko sighed, and finally raised her eyes. “I can get rid of the smell, but I can’t keep him as a pet. Not when I could get called away on an emergency at any moment.”
That was one advantage of a summoning contract; you gained allies along with the responsibilities, and you didn’t have to worry about housing. This cat might have a contract somewhere in its ancestry, but it clearly wasn’t trained, or cared for. It was just a street survivor, big-bellied and scarred, one ear shredded to a stump, mangy tail reduced to a threadbare rope.
There were fish pieces nearly up its ears now. It was making a creaky sound that had more in common with an ungreased hinge than a purr. |
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