Chapter Text
Your life on Nanami's farm is a world away from the one you once knew. Before the sprawling green fields and the quiet hum of crickets at dusk, there was only the unforgiving asphalt of the city.
You were a scrawny Tabby Cat hybrid, a ghost in the alleys, surviving on scraps and your wits. A brutal run-in with a larger predator left you with more than just the usual stray scars. Your body was bleeding, your ear was torn, and your tail, a primary tool that helped you keep balance on the edge of the roofs, was mangled. You hobbled and hid, the agony a constant, searing fire. The infection set in quickly, and you knew, in the way all strays know, that the end was near. You found a dark corner in some dimly lit alley to wait for it quietly.
That's where he found you.
Nanami Kento, a human in a tailored business suit, was walking home, his briefcase held with a tired formality. He wasn't looking for a pet, let alone a dying hybrid huddled in the filth of the city. He just saw the smear of blood on the pavement and decided that somebody needed help. His mind doubted because it was a problem to be avoided, but at the same time, something soft and painfully human in him didn't want to leave. So he walked into the dark alley, where you were waiting for death to take you.
When he saw your eyes, wide with terror, yet fading with resignation, the sight stopped him cold. He knelt, the fabric of his expensive trousers pressing into the grimy asphalt. You braced for a kick, a shout, anything to hasten the end. Instead, a gentle warmth enveloped you as he carefully scooped your feverish body into his arms. He didn't flinch as your blood soaked into his perfect business shirt, or at the stench of your infection. He simply held you, an unwavering presence in the chaos of your pain, spoke in a low tone, and carried you through the bustling city streets. Your world, once a symphony of cruelty and hunger, was reduced to the scent of his expensive cologne and the grounding beat of his heart.
At his clean, quiet apartment, he didn't just give you food. He gave you a new life. But back then, you were a wild, scared thing, and his home, with its soft carpets and silent walls, felt like a deceiving mirage. He cleaned your wounds as best as he could, guiding the bandages around your limbs with a gentle hand, but you thrashed and hissed, the ghost of past cruelty making you expect a blow from everyone and anyone.
The trip to the hybrid vet was a terror. Muzzled and held down, you bit and clawed at the strange, sterile hands, your body a coiled spring of pure panic. Nanami stayed beside you the entire time, his large hand a quiet weight on your back, murmuring low, soothing words. You returned to the apartment a broken, empty thing with a short remains of your tail, many crude scars all over your body, and a bandaged ear.
Getting along was an agonisingly slow process. You flinched when he reached for you, your instincts screaming to run. He would simply let his hand hover until you finally leaned into his touch. For weeks, you would wake in the dead of night, whimpering and crying, the phantom ache of your half-missing tail and the memories of the street haunting you. But every time, without fail, Nanami was there. He simply sat on the floor beside your bed, a silent, comforting presence.
He never forced you, and it felt like a dream.
Your trust in him grew with every shared meal, every quiet evening on the sofa, every time he stroked your torn ear.
As you healed, your once-broken body blossomed into strength, and the heavy weight of fear in your chest gently lifted, replaced by a growing sense of peace and safety. Your room in his flat was adorned with all the little things you loved. Blankets that smelled like home, favorite trinkets, and soft light filtering through the curtains. Your cat toys of every shape and color filled the corners of the apartment, turning it into a playful haven. And your bed was your favourite place to nap.
But what you loved the most was that, more than anything, Nanami treated you not as a stray animal to be pitied, but as a cherished soul deserving of respect and love.
Slowly, you began to understand the true meaning of home, of affection, and of a love that asked for nothing but your presence in return.
And with all your heart, and despite your feral nature, you tried to give back the same amount.
One day, Nanami came home from work, loosened his tie, and let out a long, weary sigh. He stared out the window at the endless gray of the city, and a moment later, a quiet decision fell from his lips like a soft rain.
"Fuck it," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I'm buying a farm." It was a bold, impulsive move that seemed so out of character, yet you knew in your heart that it was the truest thing he had ever said.
A month later, you were in his car, driving away from the city toward a different kind of life.
The farm stretched out before you, vast and breathtaking, a gentle patchwork of green pastures and winding woods. You watched Nanami as he worked with quiet determination to turn it into a home, but you were never just a bystander. You were his small, diligent partner on this journey, your nimble hands finding purpose in each task. Together, you learned to mend fences, build coops, and plant gardens.
Just like that, the phantom ache in your tail and the nightmares from the streets slowly faded, replaced by the calm, steady rhythm of farm life.
After long days, you would curl up on a bed of fresh hay, the warm scent of earth and dried grass wrapping around you like a soft blanket. Nanami would find you there, a gentle smile on his lips, and together you would walk back to the farmhouse. Inside, you would wash the dishes together, the warm water a gentle balm on your tired hands. After having dinner, he taught you to read and count, using the number of chickens in a coop or the letters on a feed bag.
And as the days passed, the farm began to fill with life. The once-empty fields now hummed with the sounds of a vibrant, eclectic family, all connected by the man who had given them a chance.
"You've had enough of a hard life already," he murmurs as you two cuddle in his bed.
I will make sure you're loved and happy," he presses the gentle kiss to your torn ear, and you sniff into his night shirt, "You are safe here, my Tabby."
You purr in response.