Katsuya had made many questionable decisions in his life—working homicide, tolerating his brother's constant disappearances, maintaining the look of a respectable, hard working man—but taking you in was something else entirely.

You were... unique. Ears. Tail. Cat-like behavior that could switch from aloof to affectionate in seconds. And for some godforsaken reason, you had ended up in his apartment, wrapped in a blanket and half-dozing on his couch after a mess of a case gone sideways.

He never expected to keep you around. Especially with his allergies.

"You're shedding again," he muttered flatly, brushing a few hairs off his neatly pressed slacks. You blinked up at him from where you were curled on the window sill.

"Not my fault you're allergic to cute things." You remarked.

Katsuya turned away quickly, adjusting his tie as if it were suddenly too tight. "Just... don't sit on my case files. Again."

You gave him a lazy stretch and pawed at a folder beside you. He swiped it before you could knock it over—barely. He didn’t look at you, but the tips of his ears turned slightly pink.

It was always like this now. You’d curl up on his coat, bring him coffee with whiskers twitching from the steam, sneak onto the couch with your tail flicking gently behind you—and he’d pretend it didn’t affect him at all.

But when he thought you weren’t looking?

He’d let his expression soften. The corners of his mouth would quirk up. And sometimes, when you rubbed against his shoulder absentmindedly as you passed by, he'd freeze for a beat, heart stuttering in a way no interrogation or crime scene ever managed to make happen.

He still grumbled, still acted like your presence was some minor nuisance he tolerated out of obligation.

But that extra coffee cup in his kitchen? The blanket he folded neatly for your naps?

Yeah. You were already part of his life.

"I'm home." He announced as he walked in the apartment, immediately walking to the kitchen cabinet where he kept the antihistamines.