Chapter Text
Sleep comes easily when you’re wrapped in strong arms. Much more easily and soundly than Konoe can remember at home in Karou. That seems like years ago now, though it can’t have been more than a few weeks.
When he wakes, Rai is already preparing for the day, adjusting his clothing and gear. I can still smell his scent on me, surrounding me, like a blanket. Konoe’s body is modestly covered with a sheet from the bed—a small kindness, but one that doesn’t escape his notice. He can’t help the warm feeling spreading in his chest—probably it just seems kind in comparison of recent traumatic experiences.
Though Konoe hasn’t moved, Rai seems to notice he’s awake right away. Maybe it’s one of his special abilities as a bounty hunter, thinks Konoe. Soft footsteps approach the bed, and even after having acknowledged those feelings of safety, he finds himself painfully shy. Konoe backs away from the large, lean body that sits down next to him on the bed, but he doesn’t escape the long slender fingers in his hair, fondling his ears.
“Did you sleep well?” The question is gentle, like the touch from those fingers. Konoe can’t bring himself to make eye contact with the cat before him—he can feel himself blushing fiercely. “Feeling better? The swelling in your ear has gone down quite a bit, though it’s looking a little pink right this minute. Maybe you’re just warm?”
Konoe can feel the blush creeping into his chest now, too. He hears a smile in Rai’s tone, but he can’t be sure, and he doesn’t dare look.
“You’ve slept away the morning, I’m afraid,” the silver cat continues. “It’s best to let your body rest and heal when it wants, at least for now.” Rai helps Konoe into his yukata as he’s talking. Before he ties the obi, he says, “Let‘s take a look at that brand.”
Konoe obediently rolls to his stomach, face reddening further, while Rai lifts the fabric of the robe against the back of his thigh. He feels cool fingers touching the outside of the burn, and he bristles his tail, a small hiss of pain escaping.
“I’m sorry,” Rai’s deep voice is quiet. “I just want to make sure you’re healing properly, and that you don’t get an infection. I’m going to clean the wound now.”
Konoe braces himself for worse pain, but it doesn’t come. Rai’s fingers are surprisingly gentle, working with a cool, wet cloth, quickly and efficiently. Konoe tries to ignore the excess water that drips between his legs—the feelings it arouses in him are confusing and strangely exciting, even (or maybe even because of) the slight pain stimulus. Rai applies medicinal herbs as well—Konoe’s recognizes the scent, continuing to lie still for the bandage application.
“This should keep dirt out of the wound for now,” explains Rai. “With this type of injury, however, you’ll want to keep it open to the air as much as possible,” glancing at Konoe’s face when he says this, which is heating up again, “but I understand that isn’t practical when we go out.”
“We are going out?” Konoe asks.
“It’s the final day of Antou,” Rai answers. “I thought you might enjoy seeing some of the sights. Bardo said you’d expressed interest yesterday.” Konoe relaxes, allowing Rai to pull him off the bed, straighten out his yukata, draping it carefully around his neck and shoulders, and tie his obi.
I feel like a doll, thinks Konoe.
Rai offers him a kuim, having remembered, it seems, that these sweet and sour fruits are Konoe’s favorite. He can’t help feeling a little pleased, as he slides his feet into sandals, and follows that swaying, bushy tail out of their room, down the hall and to the waiting room.
As Konoe bites into the juicy flesh of the fruit, purple juice drips down his chin. Standing in the doorway, the larger cat, turned toward him, watches him with an amused look, and leans down toward his face.
Konoe’s voice is slightly startled at the sudden proximity—and in such a public place! There are several cats in the waiting area. Rai’s large hands touch both sides of his face, and Konoe quickly squeezes his eyes shut, as though to hide. But that doesn’t stop the feeling of a warm, damp tongue trailing along the side of his mouth, down his chin to his neck. Konoe hears a gasp escape his mouth—he doesn’t know if it’s surprise, pleasure, or shame.
“You are a hopelessly messy eater, but dangerously cute,” comes a light chuckle, right next to his ear.
“Now, that’s a sight I’d never thought I’d see,” booms a cheerful voice—Konoe recognizes it as Bardo’s, and he’s sure his face must be the same purple as the fruit he’s been eating. “I know you’re in your honeymoon period, and it’s almost the season, but please—for the sake of the rest of us old farts around here—give it a rest, will you? That kind of display isn’t good for our hearts, man!”
Rai throws a scowl in Bardo’s direction, opens the door for Konoe, and they step out into the street.
The noise from outside suddenly makes a lot more sense, now that Konoe comes face to face with it. There are so many cats!—more cats than he has ever seen in his life combined. Cats crowding street vendors, cats selling food, masks, and other items, cats watching musicians and street performers, cats wandering from one location—often weaving a little—to the next.
He’s completely overwhelmed, and he shrinks back a little, unwittingly pressing his body against Rai’s. His thoughts of escape from the day before resurface briefly—there are so many cats around, it would probably be easy to lose himself in the crowd. But there’s something about this festival that puts him on edge.
Many of the cats wear costumes—not glamorous costumes, like he’d expect from a fancy city celebration—but instead, rather creepy ones. Many are disguised as devils (complete with horns and slithery tails), ancient shamans or healers, and even ghostly spirits. Konoe’s fur bristles in response to these—they give him an uneasy feeling, making his skin crawl.
He has to admit he feels safe next to Rai. Other cats give them a wide berth, making sure not to bump the silver cat as they pass.
Rai puts an arm around Konoe’s shoulders—not saying a word—and starts toward a row of stalls. Walking down the first aisle, Konoe’s nose twitches in delight at the delicious scent of cooked meat.
Again, without hesitation, Rai approaches the booth that Konoe just noticed—how did he know? Was I that obvious?—a blush appearing on his face again. Rai purchases two meat kabobs, and hands one to Konoe.
“Try it.” He’s using his not-a-request voice again. Konoe accepts the treat, and relishes it, finding its savory flavor delicious after the sweet and sour fruit he’s finished.
They continue walking between the stalls, Rai stopping to examine some foreign-looking weapons—giant battle axes, it appears—and Konoe’s eyes wander to other items in the same booth—strange items of made of fabric that he doesn’t recognize. Perhaps clothing? But they look too small to be practical, especially with the winter season approaching. The material shimmers in the afternoon sun, and he can’t take his eyes away. He realizes his hand has reached to touch an item that looks like a scarf, and it’s soft—it must be silk, but it’s almost sheer—a golden honey color—and it moves almost like water under his fingers.
The booth’s owner approaches him—an older burly cat with dark hair and spotted ears. He takes a long look at Konoe before he opens his mouth.
“I haven’t seen a companion cat before. You’re my first.”
Konoe is startled by the words and returns his hands to his sides. He looks up at the merchant cat, and thinks, Are the cats of Karou a small breed? Am I small? Why am I the smallest cat in this city? Why didn’t I know the rest of the cats of Sisa were so much larger than Karou cats?
“To be honest, when I first heard about the practice, I thought it barbaric. But looking at you, I totally understand the attraction.”
Konoe drops his gaze, and scans the surroundings briefly, looking for Rai. Is it just the piercing that is giving him away? Or is it something else?
“Oh, don’t fret, young one. I’m an old man,” the merchant approaches him a little more closely. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m just... a little curious.”
Konoe feels the silk scarf float around his neck. It’s nearly weightless.
“You’ve got great taste. This fine silk chiffon looks perfect with your eyes.” The scarf tightens slightly, as the merchant pulls him close. “I’ve never seen a cat with eyes like yours, and coloring like that.”
Konoe tries to duck his head, but can’t get out of the scarf. He can smell... something on the merchant’s breath, as his mouth gets closer to his face, and a sick feeling comes up in his stomach. He feels a hand on his ear.
“So this earring signifies your status, then?”
He feels a sharp tug—it hurts!—“Oh, is it new? Does that hurt?” But the spotted cat doesn’t sound sorry at all. “Pretty jewelry. If you were mine, I’d go all out, too.”
The merchant has pulled Konoe in front of a mirror, turning him around to face his reflection, with the larger cat’s hungry-looking face looming behind him. With a small sound of surprise, he’s shocked at what he sees. Konoe doesn’t recognize the exotic-looking cat staring back at him.
The cat in his reflection is dressed in an elegant robe—he thought the yukata was simple—but in the reflection, shimmering threads of gold and bronze silk are woven in with the cotton—in shades of taupe, brown, gold and honey. The obi is sky blue, which sets off the pattern, and strangely, his eyes, which look a little too big for his face. His eyes are a rich honeyed topaz, pupils large, lashes long and dark. Their color is highlighted by the scarf around Konoe’s neck, which is currently acting like a leash or collar, trapping him between the mirror and the merchant. His figure looks petit and trim, but perfectly proportioned. Though... the way the robe has exposed his collar bones looks strangely alluring. He’s lost even more weight than when he was in Karou—his cheekbones angular, chin gently pointed.
But what startles him most is his hair and fur. Its color isn’t right. Yes, he has white fur tipped with brown, and his hair has always been a muddy, ash blonde. But the cat in the mirror has fur and hair very unlike his own. It’s shiny, lush, and full—it looks silky—it looks like Rai’s fur, is the first thought that comes to Konoe’s mind. And his hair looks long and full—shaggy, spread out over his shoulders, begging to be touched. The hair on his head is so pale in color it’s nearly champagne, not the usual ash blonde—nearly matching the white on his ears.
A sparkle catches his eye—on the cat in mirror’s right ear, he sees a perfectly round hoop, silver in color, a large, sparkling stone set in it. Is that a diamond? Shit. Confused, he puts his hand up to the hoop in his ear and watches his reflection copy the motion. Is he walking around Ransen looking like this?
Behind him, the merchant cat licks his lips, bringing Konoe back to the real world—if that’s what this is. That sickening feeling sinks deeper into Konoe’s stomach.
“Haven’t seen yourself lately, have you? Your owner better keep you on a shorter leash, if he knows what’s good f—“
Before the merchant can finish, Konoe hears a familiar voice, relief washing over him like water.
“Cal, how’s business?”
It’s Rai, who appears behind the merchant’s shoulder in the mirror, making direct, aggressive eye contact, walking over with large, confident strides. Once he’s standing next to the merchant, Konoe doesn’t think the merchant looks quite as large as before.
“Looks like you found something of mine.” The merchant immediately drops his hands from the scarf around Konoe’s neck and takes a step to the side. Noticing the scarf, Rai says, “Oh, a congratulatory gift for my new pet?”
He steps behind Konoe, fixing the scarf gently—adjusting it just so, looking at Konoe admiringly in the mirror, which earns him a blush. I can’t help it, but the difference between Rai’s fingers against my neck and the merchant’s—Konoe feels a shudder run through him. He’s afraid it might have been visible in the mirror, and he’s even more nervous Rai felt him respond to his touch, especially after he feels Rai’s body press into him from behind right after. My knees feel weak.
“You have excellent taste, Cal,” Rai continues, and Konoe’s feels Rai’s lips brush over his pierced ear. “I’m guessing this is in thanks for the last bandits I saved you from?”
“Oh, yes, of course,” sputters the spotted cat. “And congratulations, he’s an excellent specimen. Myself, I’ve never really seen the benefits of companionship—but I totally get it after meeting him. You couldn’t have done better. Please, take the scarf with my most sincere gratitude.”
Konoe realizes he’s standing right there, being spoken of in the third person, as though he were some kind of object. He hates it. He’s relieved when they finally walk away from that stall.
He can’t get the vision from the mirror out of his head. Who was that cat in the reflection? What’s happened to him, to make him look like that? His hair is so pale, his body so much changed, the look in his eyes so different—it’s almost like he’s another cat. Or maybe even not a cat. He’s become something else—and as he looks around him, he becomes aware of other eyes on him, which make him nervous and uncomfortable.
I guess I’d stare at me, too. But what happened to me?
Rai leads him to watch a live theatre performance, which he’s never experienced. He’s seated on the grass, between Rai’s legs, feeling Rai’s hands in his hair, or his chin resting on his head or hugging him against his broad warm chest. It’s an epic heroic tale and love story—featuring a cursed Sanga and his companion Touga, four devils, an evil magician, and the end of the world. He supposes the story is supposed to be roughly historical—this is the story about what happened to the Void, which was overtaking the world, and how it was saved.
He finds the devils frightening, however—their costumes are too realistic—he can’t wrap his head around how the actors have hidden their ears in their horns. Especially the devil of wrath—the character’s name is Razel: everything about him is red and fiery. It’s almost as though the actor is speaking to Konoe directly, and he lowers his ears, cowering between Rai’s legs and pressing closely against him whenever Razel bellows his lines. Even when speaking softly, Razel is terrifying.
Rai is enchanted that his kitten is so taken with the play. The actors have indeed immersed themselves in their roles, but the way his young companion presses against him whenever the devils appear is adorable. He offers comfort, without being too obvious about it—perhaps he’s never seen a play, Rai thinks. There were traveling theatrical troupes that came through Setsura, but he couldn’t imagine they’d make it all the way to Karou.
Once the play ends, they wander past a few more stalls, and Rai picks up some warm drinks. After pressing the mug into the young cat’s cold hands, he watches as Konoe’s nose twitches first, before taking a sip. Konoe drinks all of the proffered beverage quickly—probably a little faster than he should have, based on how much he is swaying afterwards—but Rai doesn’t mind. They take the forest road back to the inn, now that night has fallen, wandering alongside the cheerfully bubbling stream.
Konoe walks along the bank, Rai watching from a distance. He seems more at ease now, away from the busyness of the street, the crowded marketplace. Rai wonders if he’d noticed all the attention he’d attracted. Watching him, even from a distance, and in this playful mood, Rai can’t quite understand the smaller cat’s captivating beauty. Rai feels relieved himself, finally enjoying in the privacy and quiet of the wooded area outside the city, away from other cats, away from prying eyes, away from the hungry looks raking over his companion.
Konoe has dropped down to his hands and knees, slurping water from the stream, in a very un-companion-like way, and the corners of Rai’s lips curve upwards in a smile. When was the last time he felt this happy? Had he been lonely? Was there something in the smaller cat’s manner, his straightforwardness, perhaps, that he craved? Or envied?
Instead of getting up from the stream, Konoe has suddenly stretched his body out on the grass, to Rai’s surprise. It looks like he’s gazing up the stars. I guess I’d better see what that kitten has gotten himself into this time.