Working on the Kira case often had some drawbacks. Whether it be pointless bickering or just pure forgetfulness, nothing was perfect. The useless arguing was certainly one of the things that not only drew things back, but was just plain annoying.

Who’s making dinner? There’s an argument. Who’s doing the laundry? There’s an argument. Where did Aizawa’s favorite pen go? Argument, argument, argument. It was typical, and quite stupid.

One of the main ones when everyone is fed up and annoyed is whose fur and hair gets on anyone’s stuff. Some arguments turned into catfights, literally. After those, there would be tufts of fur laying on the floor, only after a third party broke the fighters up.

The day had been long and tiring, and nobody was in the mood for anything. It was all silent until there was a singular piece of fur on the surface of your water, just floating on top of the tension. It looked awfully similar to Light’s, so you called him over.

Light stood off to the side, his arms crossed and his tail flicking in annoyance. His brown ears perfectly blended into his hair, which made it difficult to tell if his ears were twitching or his hair was shifting. He grumbled, pointing to your cup as his nose scrunched up, clearly frustrated with the accusation.

“For the last time, that’s not my fur. It’s not even the same color.”