Chapter Text
A woman brings him food, sometimes.
Cat hisses at her, drawing back from her as she places a fresh plate of tuna in front of him. He recognizes the blade at her hip, the black gloves on her hands, the Vision in her belt; remembers them from when they were used to hurt his Human until he could not move or give him any more pets.
He lashes out with drawn claws when she lingers too close to him, scratching at every part of her he can reach until he’s picked up by the scruff of his neck.
“Loyal to your master,” she says, unbothered, and lifts him to eye-level, golden eyes meeting his own. There is a conviction there, one that he’d found in his Human’s before she’d taken him away. “It is a shame for that dedication to be wasted on a traitor to the Shogun.”
“Mrowr.”
Cat lets out a low growl. He is no kitten anymore, not like how he was when his Human had first found him huddled under a tree, cold from the rain, and brought him to the warmth of a fire and gave him food and love. He is no kitten, and he will not bear with being scruffed like one, especially not by the one who took his Human away–
He lunges at her face, howling with all the rage he can muster in his body, but a hand catches him in mid-air, inches away from her.
“Ma’am,” a voice says, loud and grating in his ear, “would you like for us to dispose of this troublemaker?” A harsh laugh that resonates through his whole body as he’s shaken around like chimes in the wind. “I hear that Yukio is in search of new, fresh ingredients.”
There’s a cold, sharp blade against the fur of his neck, then. He hisses, trying to squirm away.
“What do you think you’re doing!?” The woman glares at the person behind him coldly, and in a flurry of quick motion, the sword falls to the grass with a clang. “What concerns exactly do you think the Tenryou Commission have with mere cats? Perhaps you should worry more about being disposed of if you have such impressions of our goals, that we would treat animals in such a manner.”
“Y-yes, ma’am, understood!”
Cat is dropped to the ground. He looks up at the woman, tilting his head in appraisal.
“Mreow,” he says, and means, ‘I still hate you for hurting my Human, but as a show of gratitude I will henceforth accept your peace offerings of food.’
Whether or not she understands what he means, she nods as if he’s imparted great knowledge upon her, and kneels, nudging the platter of fish closer to him. She’s still scowling, but there’s something about it that’s more hesitant than intimidating.
Slowly, he leans forward and eats the fish. It’s the first meal he’s had in days, but he somehow knows that even without the hunger adding to the flavor, the tuna is still of higher quality than anything else he’s ever had. A hand rubs behind his ears, slow and careful.
He grudgingly thanks her by licking at her hand in a show of favor, and before she leaves, he thinks he sees a hint of a smile curl at her mouth, no doubt due to the time spent in his presence.
Cat internally praises himself for acquiring another human to serve his needs. He would still prefer his Human of course, if only because training another one would be troublesome.
But his Human isn’t here, so he’ll just have to make do.
Although the woman provides a reliable food source, her visits are sporadic and he cannot just let himself go hungry in between.
Cat mostly occupies his time by trying to catch the fish swimming around in the shallow lake nearby. There aren’t many of them, though, and the ones he does get are thin and full of bones, barely enough for a single meal. He makes do on the scraps people leave on the ground and what he can find in his vicinity, but it isn’t nearly enough for a growing cat like him.
He licks at his paws, making sure not to miss even a sliver of meat, when his ears perk up at voices approaching where he’s sat.
“Where are we supposed to find a single cat?” he hears, whiny and piercing, cutting through the near silence. The source is a large floating fish with arms and legs that hovers in the air by the water. “He could have been more specific, we’ve seen a thousand of them already! White cats, black cats, brown cats, heck, I even saw a few orange cats on the way here!”
Cat crouches low to the ground, lowering his head and sweeping his tail above him in slow, smooth arcs.
“Those were foxes, Paimon,” a human beside the fish says placatingly. “Come on, we’ve only been looking for what, two days? The cat’ll turn up eventually. He said it’d probably be around this area, anyways.”
This will give him enough food to last for days, he thinks, chattering excitedly as his vision homes into his target.
“It’d better–”
He pounces at the fish. It is unprepared for the attack, and he quickly rides the momentum to tackle it into the lake, where he can easily pin it down.
“Paimon!”
Later, when he’s been appeased with a large serving of fish procured from a nearly endless bag, the human stares at him with a discerning gaze. The fish, who is not a fish, apparently, not that he particularly cares, crosses its arms and scowls down at him. Cat merely focuses on scarfing down all he can.
“Do you think this is the cat Kazuha mentioned?” the human asks the fish, picking him up.
Any annoyance he has at being carried evaporates at the sound of the Talker’s name. The Talker had tagged along with him and his Human on their adventures, before, and although he did talk a lot, and often in ways that Cat could barely understand, he always knew the best places to scratch.
“Mreowl,” he says loudly.
“I think he recognizes the name!” Light brown eyes scan him up and down, lit up in recognition. “White fur, long-haired, and we’re in Tenshukaku right now… I think we’ve found the cat!”
He lets out a long series of confirmatory meows that make the human even happier, but the fish still looks displeased from where it floats above their heads, dripping water onto the ground. It dives closer to him and he bats at one of its legs.
“Do you think Kazuha’ll mind if we toss him around a bit before bringing him back?”
“…”
“Hey, what’s with that look? You’re not the one who got attacked!”
Cat decides, halfway through their impromptu journey, that he does not like this human at all.
“Stop struggling,” the human tells him, but it’s muffled through the cloth that they’ve bundled him in. He can only barely hear anything through waterlogged ears. “You are not making this easy.”
“Mrreowl.”
He digs his claws into the fabric as he kicks at his captor, hoping that they’re sharp enough to pierce through the cotton and draw blood. The water is everywhere. What gave the human the idea to bring him along when they decided to swim across the ocean, he didn’t know.
What he did know was that he was very, very unhappy about it.
Once they’re out of the water, Cat redoubles his efforts to escape from his prison. His ears and whiskers are wet, he is sticky, he can’t feel his legs, and if the human won’t acknowledge him, then he’ll make it their problem.
“Mrew,” he says, furious. They just absentmindedly pat him on the head, further fueling his anger.
He finally breaks a paw free, then his head. Freedom.
Cat licks at his arms, sniffing at the heavy taste of salt that lingers on his damp fur. This human knows nothing about hygiene, it seems, because they don’t even try to help him clean himself up. The fish sticks its tongue out at him from where it floats above them.
He’s jolted to attention when he’s handed to someone else. It’s the Talker, he realizes.
Familiar crimson eyes stare down at him, glossy, wide, and more emotional than he’s ever seen him. The Talker has always been calm and composed, even when he was running away from the arena where his Human had fallen, so Cat doesn’t know what could have happened to change him so much.
Things have changed, he supposes.
“Hello,” the Talker says, soft and gentle. It’s nothing like the dramatic haiku recitals he’d been forced to listen to on the quieter nights. Droplets of cold wetness drip onto the top of his head, making his nose scrunch up.“I was… a friend of your previous owner. I will do my best to care for you in his absence.”
He flicks his ears, head tilted in mild confusion, and the motion only serves to make the human sadder. Cat doesn’t understand.
“Mew,” he says. ‘Don’t cry, why are you crying? I’m the one who was forced into swimming here. You never cried this much with my Human around, and you should have no reason to be sad when I’m here.’
He reaches up to try to groom the mess of hair on the Talker’s head with his tongue. Maybe that will calm him down like it used to.
For once, his proven tactic to make humans happy fails, and more water leaks onto his head. There’s something very wrong with the Talker, Cat thinks. He’ll have to remedy that.
There’s a mess, later on, with a tall loud woman, but Cat mostly ignores it in favor of taking a nap. The sun is warm here in a way that he’s never felt before, and the rocking of the wood below him is soothing, so it’s easy for him to fall asleep in the chaos around him.
When evening comes, he stalks through the labyrinth of hallways underground, not looking for anything in particular, except fish, perhaps. Or scratches, although the many humans above ground had mostly satiated his need for that.
What he ends up finding is the Talker in a locked room that he’d easily snuck into, sitting on a bed and staring into space. There’s something clutched tight in his clenched fists, and he doesn’t respond to anything Cat does or says, which is already a grave offence, in his eyes.
“Mrowr?” He pads closer to him, insistently brushing against his legs. ‘Talker? Are you unable to give pets and scratches? Why are you sad again? I’m already here.’
There’s no response. Cat meows even louder, then even that doesn’t get a reaction, he decides drastic measures have to be taken. He arches his back then leaps, using the bed as a platform to throw himself into the air and wrap his torso around the Talker’s neck, trilling happily. See him ignore him now.
He comes up with the best ideas, he thinks, as the Talker lets out a loud screech.
“Wha– Cat?”
“Mrr,” he says proudly.
“How did you get in here?” the Talker asks, trying to pull him off. He doesn’t go, of course. “I thought I locked the door.”
Cat doesn’t reply, instead purring and licking at his hair in an effort to groom it into some semblance of order. It’s messier than even his Human’s was, but he tries anyway. How humans could go around looking like this, he had no idea, but he just can't in good conscience let this human live like that.
Eventually, the Talker sighs, letting him rest over his shoulders. “Were you looking for me?”
“Mrow.”
“I see,” he says. Cat busies himself with pawing at the strands of hair that fall in his face. “…I apologize, I might have neglected you when we were on deck. I thought it best that you first get acquainted with the rest of the crew. I am not the most… qualified to take care of you, after all.”
He lets out a soft mew in response, batting at his nose.
“I’m sorry that it took me this long to get you here.” Liquid again seeps from the Talker’s eyes. “I shouldn’t have left you alone– not after–”
Cat licks at his face. It’s salty on his tongue, but the Talker smiles after a while, petting him with hesitant, gentle strokes that he purrs at. Soon, when he thinks he feels better, Cat drops onto the pillow at the foot of the bed and curls into a ball.
A resounding success, he affirms, as he settles down to nap.
“Wait,” the Talker says, “that’s my pillow.”
He is the greatest companion of all time, he thinks as he drifts off to sleep. He’ll raid the kitchen for his reward later.
The ship they’re on smells like rusted metal and salt.
Cat spends the first few days trying to scent every surface he can get on, but all that gets him is scolding for ‘peeing all over my clothes, what the hell, Cat.’ Naturally, the humans around him cannot comprehend the complexity of his goals, so he doesn’t let that stop him.
Now, though, he’d found an entirely new thing to mark.
“What are you doing,” he hears the Talker say.
He ignores him, continuing to scratch at the white fabric with happy meows. His claws had been getting restless recently, too, but this had perfectly satisfied the itch.
“I thought you outgrew this.”
“Mrrowr,” Cat lets out, laying out on the wood, pleased. Once the humans understand that he’s just making sure everyone knows that this ship belongs to him, he’s sure that he’ll receive countless thanks. And lots of tuna.
“Don’t try to get out of this. The captain is going to– going to ban you from tuna for the rest of the week.”
His ears jump at the sound of ‘tuna.’ Will the Tall Loud Woman let him have the stash of fish he’d found the other day? “Mrr?”
“What happened to the spare sails!?”
Cat recognizes the voice as belonging to another human who gives him treats, but also keeps treats from him sometimes. He tries to hide before he can be found, but the Talker quickly scoops him up from the ground and passes him to the Treat Taker, where he’s summarily scolded.
“Mrew,” he says. ‘You traitor. I cannot believe you’ve betrayed me, who has done nothing to hurt you.’
The Treat Taker lectures him about something, but all Cat hears are the words ‘no’ and ‘tuna’ and then he realizes that the Talker’s betrayal ran deeper than he’d originally thought. No tuna?
Tuna drops to the ground, yowling into the air. How could he allow such an injustice to occur?
"Please stop being so dramatic," the Talker says.
He makes sure to scent his entire room, after that.
At least the Tall Loud Woman seems to appreciate him. She brings him to a room above the clouds with lots of stacks of lots of paper and lets him go wild, then piles the shredded remains into a basket and helps him topple it over a ledge. There’s another woman there, too, who doesn’t seem to appreciate his help, but Cat is too busy enjoying his rewards to care.
“We should really name him,” the Boy says, on a day where all of them are gathered except the Talker.
Cat meows from where he’s sat on the Treat Taker’s lap, then opens his mouth for another bite of fish.
“Yeah, I agree,” the Toymaker says, “we can’t just keep calling him ‘Cat’. What are we gonna do if he gets lost in Liyue someday? They’ll think we’ve gone into the deep end if we start calling out for ‘Cat’ in the streets.”
Another human scoffs. “Alright, but no one ask Kazuha, alright? I asked him to help name my new sword, and the kid tried to name it after a haiku, like I’m going to stop being attacked to recite poetry mid-battle. He’s creative, I’ll give him that, but not the person I’d ask to name any living being.”
“Fine, but I’m not going to be the one who has to tell him we named the cat.” Tall Loud Woman leans forward, scratching him behind the ears. “What do we name him, then? Any suggestions?”
“How about he picks?” another human suggests.
“Don’t be silly, Huixing, how’s a cat gonna pick his own name–”
“We should name him Tuna!” the Boy exclaims, clapping his hands together. “That’s his favorite food, I think!”
Cat perks up at ‘tuna’, meowing insistently. Sitting in one place for too long has made him hungry, regardless of the bag full of treats that he’s already finished.
The humans all stare at him, then a bout of raucous laughter ensues.
“I guess that’s how,” Tall Loud Woman says, amused. “Tuna it is then.”
He mews again, which renews their excitement.
“Good boy, Tuna,” the Boy says.
It takes Cat a second to realize that there is no tuna, then another to realize that he is the Tuna.
“Mrrew,” he says in acknowledgement, after a short period of deliberation.
His Human had only ever called him Cat, and that was all he’d known for a long while, but he supposed he could learn a new name, now that his Human was gone. These humans are here, and perhaps it was time for Tuna to properly acknowledge their service.
When Tuna gets tired of indulging the other humans in their strange playtime, he clambers up to where the Talker sits and loops himself around his neck, ready to take a long, long nap. He’s found that he gets the best sleep when he can feel the deep breaths, in and out, of this human.
He pauses, then tries to straighten out the Talker’s hair. What kind of cat could sleep with such a mess nearby?
Then there’s a cacophony of noises erupting around him.
The Talker tries to push him to go back underground, where he’s safe, but Tuna digs his claws in and refuses to leave. The last time he’d listened to one of his humans, he hadn’t come back. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
He sighs, wrapping one hand around him, then jumps into the fray.
Tuna’s ears press against the back of his head, tail wound tight as he hears the relentless clanging of steel on steel. It brings back memories of a cheering crowd and hands holding him back and his Human lying motionless on the ground, red pooling under him. But he cannot leave this human alone, no matter how scared he is.
Sharp eyes catch the glint of sunlight on metal a second before anyone else. And because Tuna prided himself on his natural reflexes, he’s also the first to react.
He hisses, lunging at the person who dared to try and hurt his Talker.
His claws scratch furiously at skin, drawing blood until all he can see of the man’s face is red. Tuna does not spare any mercy for the kind of idiocy that would lead someone to try and hurt one of his humans again, and he thinks to himself that if he had been there the first time, he could have had both of his humans with him.
Unfortunately, it is beyond even his capabilities to turn back time, and all he can do is let out his anger on the man underneath him.
“Enough, Tuna,” he hears his Talker say, then he’s being hoisted into the air.
For a moment, Tuna stares up into his Talker’s eyes, telling him to be safe without him there to watch over him in battle, then he dashes madly back underground. The kitchen should be empty, with all the humans busy fighting, so he should be able to get all the good fish before dinner.
After that, he does indeed get all the good fish for several meals, everyone stopping to praise him for something. Tuna doesn’t understand, but he isn’t going to complain.
Once the human who’d dragged him into the water and the flying fish are gone, Tuna pads up to his Talker, pawing at the hem of his pants. He kneels to look at him, concerned.
“What is it, Tuna?” he asks. “Is there anything wrong?”
“Mew,” is all he says, before standing on his hind legs to lick at his face.
The Tall Loud Woman laughs loudly, patting him on the back. “Tuna missed you, I think.”
“Is that so,” he says, then smiles, warm and happy like how Tuna remembers he used to when he was around his Human. He reaches out to rub behind his ears.
Purring loudly, Tuna does not tell them that he doesn’t want the bad human and the fish’s stench lingering around one of his humans. He’ll take care of the clothes later, once no one is paying attention to him, but for now, he needs to take care of his Talker.