Kurama (The Cat)
*~*~*~*~
He had worked himself up into a mighty temper when, an hour later, the door swung open, and a tall man with long, chocolate brown hair pranced in, followed closely by a teenager and a kid, all bearing remarkable similarities to each other.
“Hi Madara!” the man greeted cheerfully, as if they were the best of friends. He carried a huge box in his hands, and evidently it was heavy, given the pinched expression on his face and the straining of his muscles.
The teenager behind him also carried a box, smaller, but also heavy, and the boy with them carried two bags, which he set carefully down on the table.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor, and still hand-cuffed to the table, Madara scowled, narrowing his eyes into a murderous glare.
“Whoa, that look could freeze a fire,” the teenager commented, setting his box down with a grunt. He had fluffy, light brown hair and piercing black eyes, but the most notable of his features was the x-shaped scar on his right cheek.
The boy poked the teen with a little frown. “Kawarama,” he said quietly, “anija said not to piss him off….”
“Yeah and he’s handcuffed to a table that weighs about a thousand pounds, what’s he’s gonna do? Chill out, Itama.”
The boys frown deepened, but he stayed quiet, opening up one of the bags and taking out its contents.
“Tobi said you’re in med school,” the long haired man went on, shooting the younger boys a quick look and opening up the box after setting it on the floor, pulling out dozens of thick textbooks. “That’s pretty cool. Do you really need all these books?”
Madara twisted his wrist against the biting metal restraining him, glowering with annoyance at the rough treatment of his very expensive textbooks, and not gracing him with an answer. That didn’t seem to stop him, however.
“You have a really nice place, by the way,” he chattered on. “And a nice car. Sad that we couldn’t bring it along.”
“How the fuck did you get into my house?” Madara demanded, unable to restrain his fraying temper. The man gasped dramatically, putting a hand over his chest.
“Hey language, there are young ears present,” he said dramatically, covering Itama’s ears. The boy scowled, ducking away and fixing his ruffled hair. It was a curious half and half tone, with half of it being white, and the other half the same deep brown as the long haired man.
“We took your keys while you were knocked out,” Kawarama said in answer, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall with a sharp grin. “Hashirama, didn’t Tobi say “don’t talk to him too much and make him even pissier”?”
“Oh, he did, didn’t he?” the man sighed, looking utterly unbothered. He continued taking the books out, organizing them, horribly out of order, on the empty bookshelf next to a large, ornate desk looking out the window over the grounds. All the while, he hummed cheerfully to himself.
Kawarama and Itama worked much quieter, taking out more of Madara’s things and setting them up. When they were done, the two boys cleaned up the mess of shattered wine glass, and wrestled the wine-stained armchair and rug out the door. WIth much more effort and sweating and cursing, they dragged in replacements, nearly identical to the originals.
Madara watched quietly, attentively, grudgingly pleased to see his laptop, tablet, and phone among his belongings.
“Alright, that’s everything!” Hashirama said cheerfully when all was done, kicking the box out the door. “Sooo. If I come and uncuff you, will you try to hit me?”
“Probably,” Madara replied honestly.
“He won’t hit me,” Itama said cheerfully, strolling towards him and crouching down next to him. Unfortunately, he was right.
Madara sat still as Itama undid the cuff around his wrist, and waited till he was standing again before rubbing at the reddened flesh. “Do you want any ice or anything for that?” Itama asked, pointing at the raw skin.
“No,” Madara snapped, and Itama’s permanent frown deepened. Madara might restrain himself from hitting a kid, but he didn’t feel the need to be overly polite either.
“Tobirama invites you to dinner tonight,” Kawamara spoke up as Itama made his getaway.
“He can fuck off.”
“Madara, language!” Hashirama scolded, giving him a reprimanding look.
“Fuck you, who the hell do you think you are?” Madara snarled, gracefully standing up and stalking towards him. He knocked Hashirama’s hands away from his precious textbooks, grabbing his laptop and hip-checking the taller man out of the way as he did. “Get the fuck out, I have work to do.”
“Wow, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” Kawamara snickered, putting an arm around Itama’s shoulders and guiding him out the room. Hashirama pouted and sighed dramatically, but followed behind, closing the door a little more aggressively than was necessary. The clicking of the lock began a long period of oppressive silence.
With an irritated sigh, Madara grabbed his phone, unlocking it with his thumbprint and opening up his texts. A little notification popped up, and he glared at it. No SIM card. Because of course there wasn’t. He was, however, connected to wifi already. Somehow. Seemed suspicious….
Irritation growing by the second, he opened Instagram, something he rarely used, and went to messaging, finding Izuna’s handle at the top. Before shooting out the message, he took a minute to consider. He couldn’t exactly say ‘oh hey remember when we were at the bar? Yeah I got kidnapped, this is where I am, come get me.’
Firstly because he had no idea where he was. Second, Izuna would either think he was joking, or he’d lose his mind with worry. And given the influence the Senju family had, going to the police wasn’t an option. The crime ring had their hands deep in the law enforcement's pockets. Any idiot with a brain cell knew that.
After a long while, he settled with: ‘still alive? Dad’s gonna kill you if you drank yourself into a coma. Again.’
There. Not suspicious. Perfectly normal. Izuna wouldn’t suspect anything was wrong.
Hikaku wouldn’t be so easy to fool. He had a shift at the hospital the day after his exam, and how the heck was he supposed to go to work if A) he didn’t even know where he was or how to get to the hospital from here, and B) he wasn’t able to leave the Senju estate?
Speaking of…. How was he going to get to school to write his exam? He was well and truely fucked. He switched apps, opening Maps to try and figure out where he was, but apparently, it decided it didn’t want to work either. Frustrated, he tossed the phone across the room, where it bounced harmlessly on the bed. How unsatisfying.
*~*~*~*~*
He spent the next hour reorganizing his things that had been brought over. His textbooks he set up neatly in the bookshelf, along with all his notebooks and sketchbooks. The laptop and tablet were arranged on the desk, together with a small jar stuffed with pens and pencils. He even found two small plants elsewhere in the room that he brought over to spice it up. Always have a good study space, that was the most important thing. He supposed he should be grateful the mobsters brought over all the school supplies he needed.
They even brought over some clothes. A few sets of scrubs, some jeans, a few shirts, some comfy leggings, even his favorite sweater.
After taking a few more minutes to scope out the massive room and the bathroom, he reluctantly took advantage of his luxurious new accommodations, spending a good 30 minutes in the very fancy shower and scrubbing his hair clean. Refreshed, he dressed in his favorite leggings and sweater, made himself a cup of tea in the little mini kitchen/bar, and finally set about studying.
Even if he didn’t know how he was gonna get there yet, he couldn’t waste more time. He found his headphones in one of the bags, plugged it into his phone, turned on his study playlist, and got cracking.
It was easy, familiar, to fall back into routine, and he could almost convince himself that he was back home. It was just as easy to drift off, to let himself forget about what was happening, and immerse himself back into his familiar books.
He escaped from reality for several hours, until it started to get dark out, and his natural light started to fade. It didn’t help that he was tired; guess being kidnapped and drugged did that to a person.
With a sigh, he not so gently tossed his headphones, reaching his arms above his head and stretching. His spine cracked and popped, loudly.
“That sounded like it felt good.”
The voice made him startle, and he spun around in the chair. Tobirama Senju was lounging on the bed, looking perfectly comfortable and content, like he belonged there.
“What the fuck,” he hissed, scowling. “What are you doing here?”
“You refused dinner.”
“Oh, no. End of the world.”
“Mhm. Come here for a minute.”
“No.”
“Wasn’t a request, princess.”
“Well, guess what, Senju, I’m not one of your stupid henchmen that bends over backwards to obey your every single order or wish.”
Tobirama stared at him for a long while, then reached over the other side of the bed, hefting up a box. “Got something for you.”
“Don’t want it.”
“Well, it’s not returnable.” He set the box down on the bed beside him, and waved a hand, giving him an expectant look. Madara stared back at him for a long while.
Finally, he sighed, and stood up. Anything to get the creep out of his room. Tobirama’s red eyes gleamed with thinly veiled delight as he approached. The moment he was within range, Tobirama grabbed his wrist, pulling him down onto the bed beside him, and none to subtly nudging the box towards him.
With an irritated scowl, Madara pulled the box towards himself, ignoring the intensity of Tobirama’s stare and opening it. Something….alive poked its head out as soon as the folds of the box flipped over.
“What,” Madara said slowly, “is this?”
“You said you wanted a cat.”
“I wasn’t being serious!”
“I take everything seriously.”
He glared at the Senju, reaching into the box and plucking the cat out. It was big, fluffy, and orange, and it meowed loudly when Madara set it on his lap, deep purrs rumbling out of its little throat. Madara held up his fingers, letting the cat sniff them.
It was, admittedly, pretty cute.
“So, about your exam next week,” Tobirama said, sitting up. “I appreciate that you’re wanting to go on, and educate yourself, and what not. So, I’ll let you continue your studies, on one condition. You may only leave the estate with my permission, and with the escort of two of my men. Additionally, don’t worry about work, you won’t need to make any income while you’re with me. We’ve put in a resignation for you.”
“You did what?!” Madara exploded, pushing the cat off his lap so he could stand. Tobirama’s lip quirked in a tiny smirk.
“Most people are excited to know they don’t have to work anymore.”
“You asshole! Why would you-”
“Enough, princess.” The coldness of his voice had Madara hushing abruptly. To stop himself from lashing out at the Senju, which he really wanted to do but it would probably not end well, he picked up the cat again, and glared at him.
“I can’t not work,” he said thinly, somehow managing to restrain his temper.
“As I said, you have no need for income with me. Everything you could ever need or want will be provided for.”
“That’s not it,” Madara argued. “My job is very hands on, and so is my schooling. How am I supposed to get better if I get no practice?”
Tobirama considered him for a moment, tilting his head to the side. “We’ll revisit the matter in a few weeks,” he said eventually. “I suggest you don’t argue with me on this.” Like a panther, he prowled to his feet, and sauntered around the room for a minute, pausing at the desk and flipping through the open textbook, keeping his finger on the open spot so it wouldn’t be lost.
“I trust my brothers brought everything over for you that you needed?”
Madara set the cat down on the bed and scowled, deciding not to answer. His lack of response didn’t seem to bother Tobirama all that much. He just flipped through a few more pages, then left the book alone, turning to face him again, lopsided smirk still in place. “I do hope my anija wasn’t too irritating. He can be….excitable, to put it mildly.”
“Anija?” Madara echoed. “If he’s older than why are you leading the mafia? Doesn’t the leadership role go to the oldest heir?”
Tobirama’s grin turned sharp, cat-like. “Hashirama lacks certain….attributes, that are required if you’re going to lead an organization such as this.” Madara would see that. Hashirama seemed rather…flamboyant, at first meeting. Too open, too emotional. Nothing like the stone cold persona his brother portrayed. But that could always be a facade.
Tobirama poked around the room a little longer. “You must be hungry,” he assumed, glancing out a window, then turning to him. “I’ll have something sent up. Any preferences?”
Madara stared at him for a long time. “You know,” he said slowly. Carefully. “If your intention here is to make me fall in love with you, you’re not doing a very good job of it.”
Surprise fluttered across the Senju’s face, before he soothed it back into its expressionless mask. “What are you talking about?”
“Well, you’re not being very enabling, or supportive, or considerate, for that matter. Usually, and, correct me if I’m wrong, but usually, when someone realizes that they like another person and want to pursue them romantically, they don’t kidnap them. And, they do all the things. Like, support them in school and work, ask about their interests, spend quality time, you know. All that.”
Tobirama looked comically confused. “Do you….want me to do that? I got you a cat.”
“Thanks, another creature to keep alive when I can barely do that with myself,” Madara said dryly.
His frown deepened. “Am I doing something wrong?”
The genuine bewilderment in his voice made Madara laugh bitterly. “Something wrong? Something? Oh, Senju, I could write a dictionary of all the things you’re doing wrong. You want to start a relationship with someone, particularly someone like me, you have to try a hell of a lot harder.”
“I’m letting you finish your studies!”
“And you say that like it's a privilege! Do you have any idea how many red flags for a toxic relationship you’re raising?! Do you want me to list them, Senju? Isolating, controlling, manipulative, cutting off from social life and work, restric-”
“Okay, I get it!” Tobirama held up his hands, his expression irritated. “So, what? What do you want me to change?”
Madara stared at him disbelievingly. “Are you serious right now?”
Tobirama raised an expectant, helpless eyebrow, holding out his hands to further convey his confusion.
“Oh, for fucks…You know what? Come here.” Madara took his hand, spun him around, and marched him towards the door, where upon he flung it open and shoved Tobirama through. “I don’t want to see you till the evening after my exam. I’m sure that gives you plenty of time to think about what we talked about and realized where you’re fucking up. Until then, adios!”
And he slammed the door in the Senju’s very confused, surprised face.
Then he opened it again. “I want inarizushi.” And slammed it shut again, loudly.
The cat meowed loudly behind him, and he turned, leaning against the door. “What do you want?”
The cat meowed again, walking towards him and brushing against his leg, purring deeply. Madara waited until the sound of slowly retreating footsteps faded. “Yeah, you’re cute,” he sighed, picking up the little orange fluff ball and heading to the bed, where he collapsed with a groan. “Want some food or anything?” The cat meowed even louder. “Well, you’re gonna have to wait. I don’t think I’m allowed to wander. Which, is another red flag, let me tell you.”
The cat brushed persistently against his fingers. “You need a name,” he decided. “What about Yoko?” The cat gave him a baleful, nearly offended look. “What’s wrong with that? My brother had a cat named Yoko.” He tapped his fingers against his temple. “Mittens? Fluffy? Kitty? Demon? Or how about Gremlin? I think Gremlin would suit you. Little orange Gremlin, terrorizing everyone in sight.” The cat swatted at his fingers. “Or how about Kurama?”
The cat caught his ring finger, and started chewing on it. “Kurama it is,” he muttered, scratching the cat behind his ears and laying down on the plush sheets. Izuna had probably texted back by now, but he was not in the mood to look at his phone. Or get up from the incredibly comfortable bed. It was like it was made of clouds.
Kurama padded closer to him, curling up against his chest, deep purrings vibrating his entire little body. After making himself comfortable, he closed his eyes, still purring loudly. “Time for a cat nap?” Madara muttered, stroking his side gently. “What even is my life right now? Talking to a cat. How pathetic.”
Groaning, he rubbed his eyes, and let them stay closed. Maybe a quick nap wasn’t such a bad idea….Just a few hours, and afterwards, he could get back to his studies. And maybe, just maybe, he’d write up a whole list of things the Senju shouldn't be doing if he wanted to gain affection.
Which, was a whole other field of crazy. What kind of psychopath kidnapped someone with the intent of making them fall in love with them? That sounded like some Beauty and the Beast shit right there. Stockholm Syndrome. Stuff like this happened in movies, books. Not in real life. And certainly not to people like him. Did this idiot seriously think that snatching him from his life and locking him in some fancy house was going to make him forget all about his life and family and decide to just….fall in love with him?
“What is my life?” Madara groaned, throwing his forearm over his eyes. Pressed up against him, Kurama snuggled closer, and meowed sympathetically.