#like i understand the need to warn your fellow fandom babes i totally would myself if i was sitting on this intel again not a dig

[bluewinnerangel]

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[typewriterghcst]

Title: When the Sun Leaves the Field Fandom: The Cat Returns Rating: uhhhhh let’s go with. like. PG or PG13ish for. Heavy Themes. speaking of— Warnings: I struggled with how to word this, and I hope I can still manage anyhow with making it clear— there are a lot of parallels with suicide in this story, so I would advise that if you are very sensitive to that subject, you might give this one a pass. Other than that, y. yeah, there’s heavy overarching themes of death all over the place. The notes paragraph will probably clear up what I mean Characters: Cat King, Natori, mentions of other characters Summary: It’s good to have someone at the end of the road. Notes: For this meme, and the prompt of ‘When I am dead’ with the added bonus of ‘if it makes it painful: one-sided. :)’ bc @madamhatter is a sadist jfjfkd;a Or. Maybe just an enabler. Either way I absolve myself of all responsibility with this one :v Tho for the record, this is using the weird manga-inspired verse I use on the ask blog, and I will actually apologize for that preemptively 9_9;;

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They had begun their trek in the early morning (what passed for early morning), not under the cover of darkness but simple isolation. They had left early in the interest of privacy. Of concern and long-lived affection. No one needed to know yet.

They stop for a meal in the Finch Kingdom. Natori thinks they must look quite a pair for those who are too young to recognize them, Claudius slouching languidly with one foot hooked against the table to tip his chair back and Natori himself sitting prim and timid with his feet gathered up beneath him and paws folded demurely on the table.

“...do you remember when we first met?” Claudius eventually asks, and it feels so sudden it takes Natori a long minute to register it. And by the time it does, that ever-present gnawing guilt has settled into its usual spot before its accompanying source’s arrival.

He shakes his head with a rueful smile. “You know I don’t.”

To that, Claudius doesn’t respond for some time, staring out at the mellow passersby and combing absently at his mustache, an idle habit he’s never been able to totally shake.

Finally, Natori speaks up again, gentle, low. “How was our first meeting, Claudius..?”

His companion gives a pensive noise or two, still absently worrying at a handful of long fur before his mind seems to come back to him. “Feels kinda weird to relay the story to someone who was there, babe.”

“Well, pretend I’m someone else, then.” A light, almost playful piece of advice, but one which seems to loosen Claudius' tongue.

"Don't really want someone else, though.”

"That's sweet of you."

"Heh. I'm always sweet, babe."

"Some of your courtiers might be inclined to say otherwise."

"Bah, what do they know."

Natori laughs. "Not enough, I suppose."

They lapse into another silence, then, lost in the murmuring chatter of the residents of the Finch Kingdom going about their day. Natori is just on the verge of politely asking when they might leave.

"It was a disaster. I made an ass of myself."

"Oh, it couldn't have been that bad." Spoken affectionately, but with perhaps a knowing edge.

"It could and it was," Claudius persists. “I'd seen you over and over again, always trailing after the queen. I could tell you weren't royalty, an' I made a… an assumption."

Somewhere, Natori is beset by both a distant humiliation and the fervent wish that he might remember more, that this description, vague as it is, might be just the trigger to jog his unreliable memory. Alas, the vague but deeply-rooted embarrassment is all that arises.

“You thought I was a companion of a certain, ah, character.”

“Oh, so you do remember, you fibber.”

Natori laughs again. “That was only the logical conclusion.”

“I know.” Claudius’ chair comes finally crashing down with a thunderous clap, and he’s unfazed by the curious glances and annoyed frowns the action brings the two of them. Natori rather oddly feels no compulsion to direct apologetic smiles or other motions to their fellow diners, either.

“Guess we should get a move on.”

“Yes.”

They leave the Finch Kingdom behind, and start not for one of its neighboring kingdoms, but for the aimless, trackless space between them. Unusually, Claudius wordlessly trails after his advisor, trusting wholly in Natori's knowledge in a way he hasn't in quite some time.

“Has your mind changed?” Natori questions once, and even he himself can hear the veiled wish that his companion’s resolution might be faltering, despite his best efforts.

“How do you think Lune’s doing right now? You think he’s noticed we’re gone yet?”

“...I would be quite surprised if he hasn’t yet, yes.”

“It’s too bad, Natori. You know?”

“I know.”

“Just too bad,” Claudius continues to mumble under his breath.

Natori doesn’t answer.

“He’s going to be fine, though, you know? I think we prepared him pretty good, myself.”

“I’ll be keeping my eye on him for you,” is Natori’s subdued, faint reply, and it’s this time that Claudius finds himself unable to form a response, so much so that a thick silence settles heavily between them for a long moment. It isn’t lessened by Natori turning to survey him with measured uncertainty, either, and it seems to Claudius that they spend an inordinate eternity simply sharing this somber gaze, and gradually coming to an unspoken understanding.

Finally, when he can’t stand it anymore, he does look away with a restrained snort. There’s a lump in his throat that’s somewhat easily ignored, more so than the impossible to define tangle of emotions in his chest, at least.

“Still got it, babe. Sure know how to set an old cat’s mind at ease.”

The hesitant but affectionate smile Natori gives him is an oddly exquisite pain, too brittle and too honest; he almost wants to look away.

“Oh, I’m going to miss you,” the other cat murmurs in a manner which seems almost involuntary, and Claudius thinks it sounds something like a lovelorn admission of guilt. Or perhaps he only hopes.

“Well, who wouldn’t?” He declares.

“Who wouldn’t.” Natori echoes obligingly.

They walk for a long time. There comes a time when Claudius gets bored of it and sits, and Natori settles down beside him without comment or complaint.

“It’s a sorry place for a nap, babe,” Claudius remarks.

Natori’s response, Claudius realizes, is to lean into his shoulder with a contented noise, and it’s a show of comfort and affection that does not pass him by. The ex-king decides to return the favor, though he rather quickly finds lying across Natori’s lap a far more inviting position. Natori laughs.

“Intolerable, still, Claudius..?”

He waits a long moment to respond. He’d been bored, restless, not necessarily fatigued, but now he finds his eyelids are inexplicably heavy, and he doesn’t fight the urge to doze a little.

“...nah. I take it back.”

He can hear the fondness in Natori’s voice when he eventually replies. “Well. I’m always pleased to meet your expectations.”

It’s this muted emotion which stirs Claudius to let go of the remorse he’s been holding on to since they left. Since before they left. Perhaps he’s held it since they first met, humiliating wrong assumption regarding the cat’s position and all. Love at first sight. It’s a terribly impractical thing, but he’s nothing if he is not ruled by that kind of passion and impulsivity.

“I should have done it, babe. You know? When I first had the thought, when I first felt it, maybe even way back when Sephie left— I should have set you up beside me with a crown, too. Made it official and everything. Bet no one would have objected.” Or, more accurately, had they objected, they’d have most likely been in for a very long drop.

The faltering quirk to Natori’s muzzle makes his smile appear particularly rueful. “I’ve never wanted a crown of my own, Claudius.” Even in times long past when he’d been blessed with one in response to faint acquiescence alone.

“But you would have gone along with it anyway, wouldn’t you? If I had asked you to?”

The permissive (if inextricably reluctant) hum Natori uses to agree with him feels strangely comforting. Familiar. Claudius closes his eyes again.

“I would have,” Natori eventually murmurs. “If you had asked me to. But I was always most content where I was, ha. So, tell yourself nothing was wasted.”

“I’ll do that.”

It isn’t the admission of reciprocated sentiment he’d hoped for, and it stings, but he supposes it will do at the end of the world. When he leaves, he contents himself with a brushed kiss atop the head and the barest, lingering touch of their entwined paws.

Natori returns to the Carp Kingdom alone.