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Little Lion Man

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Majima couldn’t catch a fucking break. Every day felt like hell, pinned underneath Sagawa’s thumb like he was. Brandy unceremoniously poured over his head by a disgruntled guest and had his lights knocked out by a brute of a man only to wake up penniless and in a place very different from the alleyway he had been left in for a start.


His body was so heavy from slumber, that he was certain it was the first time since coming to Sotenbori, he felt at peace, that he had a decent rest, even if it came from a mild concussion. He pressed his face further into the soft fabric, breathing a content sigh.


The sound of a door creaking open and closed, plastic bags ruffling and the sink faucet turning on had him stiffen with fear, the pleasantness in his body gave way to trepidation. His limbs felt sluggish, like he was treading through waist-deep water, his own body hindering him from moving, to protect himself from whatever had just come into the room.


His eyes snapped open, his vision blurred around the edges as he took everything in. When did he end up in a crappy hotel room? Majima heard the faint thump of footsteps and tried to spring up, to grab at the tanto in his back pocket but his frustratingly unresponsive body lay useless and numb. He was trapped. When he finally moved it was only minutely, only for him to fall back. It felt alien, awkward. Like he was moving through molasses.


His eyes flicked desperately to the intruder, staring upwards to the softest brown eyes he’d ever seen, even under the severe set of his brows which, to Majima’s humble opinion, made him look constipated. And yet, had eyes so soft and honest you could drown in them. What a contradiction. He snapped out his thoughts as the man drew near. Why was he so damn big? He was certainly larger than the bastard that shook him down in that gritty alleyway.




Frozen, Majima watched in confusion as one of his hands reached out and ever so gently petted the crown of his head and Majima’s mind blanked. Those Hands? Oh, they were huge in size. Majima couldn’t see, his vision tunneling and his heart thumping wildly in his chest as he frantically tried to decipher everything unfolding in front of him.

“You doing alright lil guy?” the stranger’s voice rumbled softly as his long fingers scratched behind Majima’s ear before lazily tracing down his back, sending shivers down every knob of his spine.


Majima squirmed awkwardly, opening his mouth the tell the guy to fuck off, that he had enough for today and he wasn’t in the mood for being felt up by some stranger with personal space issues, thank you. But all that came out was a small, pathetic meow.


What the fuck?


The man’s almost comically deep frown lifted the slightest bit, a slip of the stoic mask as a faint smile curved his lip. The man’s large calloused hands were so delicate with him, Majima paused for the briefest of moments. He had almost forgotten what it was like to be touched so tenderly. The warmth that bloomed in his chest, however brief, did nothing to stoke the rising fear churning in his stomach.


His vision tunneled as he stared up at this- this giant. The edges of his vision wavered, turning black around the edges as his heart hammered wildly. Panic truly set in, choking him as every fiber of his being screamed at him to fight, to find a dark place and hide. Blindly, he struck out, his body finally losing its lethargic haze as his claws sank deep into the calloused skin of the man’s wrist. The man hissed in pain and quickly pulled his hand away. That hint of a smile was gone, replaced by a heavy scowl.


Taking the opportunity, Majima scrambled, frantically kicking his legs out as he darted off the bed and ran for the exit only to come to a skidding halt. The door was comically large, the handle far beyond his short reach.


What. The. Fuck.


He turned tail and raced to his only other option; under the bed. Tucking his thick tail around his body as he pressed himself against the corner of the wall, underneath the bed. Majima’s mind began to reel. He was a cat. An actual literal fucking cat. A cat stuck in some stranger's hotel room. This was a real fucking kick in the dick.




The night wasn’t going the way he had expected when he and Nishiki hightailed it to Sotenbori. Nishiki wanted to hit up the town, meet women and get a taste of the local brew. Kiryu tagged along, not wanting his brother to wander around Osaka on his own. Young, cocky, and right in the middle of the Omi’s backyard. Nishiki admittedly lived a high life, but Kiryu wasn’t a socialite, he more often than not found himself tongue-tied and clumsy with his words. Preferring instead to speak through his fists.


And that was how he found himself, knuckles bruised and battered as he stood over the idiots who just couldn’t very well leave him be. It seemed no matter where he were to go trouble would find him. He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a crumpled cigarette to light when he heard the faintest sound. Something he could have easily looked over in the dark alleyway as he stepped over the men he’d surely concussed. And that’s where he found it, dusting off his suit jacket and lighting up a cigarette after kicking some idiot’s teeth in. A kitten.


The cat was so limp in his hands when he had found it at the mouth of the alleyway. Cold and damp, the smell of human urine clinging to its dark fur made Kiryu’s nose wrinkle with disgust and his heart clench in sympathy. He would have thought for certain it was dead if it weren’t for the pathetic mewl it let out as he plucked it from the damp cement and tucked it gently into his suit jacket.


Kiryu rubbed at the cut on his hand, breathing a frustrated sigh as his head dipped low, pulling up the bed skirt to chance a peek at the cat that darted underneath. Its lone eye reflecting the low light filtering through the door to the bathroom. Its long, wiry body huddled in the far corner, letting out a low growl as Kiryu eyed it from the foot of the bed. The little cat was distressed, hissing and spitting every time he even thought to come near.


Cursing under his breath he climbed to his feet, walking to the bathroom to shut off the running water in the sink before it began to spill over. He was hoping to give the little thing a bath. Do cats even take baths? Truthfully, he had never been around cats much, only catching a glance of movement in the dark alleyways of Kamurocho, digging in the garbage piled high in the streets, or pampered, lazy cats in lofty apartment windows, basking in the warm rays of the sun. eyes closed and tail swaying gently with contentment. It was safe to say he was a little out of his element with this.


He rummaged through the bag of things he had picked up from his little expedition to Don Quijote. It was an awkward experience, but the woman behind the counter had known a thing or two about cats, offering up some quick advice and a couple of cans of tuna before sending him on his way. Emptying a can into a small bowl, Kiryu slid it under the bed for the frightened little thing.