Archive of Our Own

“Uncle! Uncle Kiyoomi!” Kiyoomi feels relief flood through his veins, his tense shoulders dropping, posture relaxing as he catches sight of his five-year-old niece hurtling down the crowded streets of Tokyo towards him. He takes a few steps forward to meet Ayame, reaching out to catch her before she pitches face-first into the pavement when the tips of her shoes get caught on uneven ground. Kiyoomi can already hear his family members fussing over Ayame scuffing up her new designer shoes.

“Ayame, how many times have I told you not to go running off like that? It’s dangerous, especially if you’re on your own in Tokyo. Motoya would have my head if anything happened to you under my watch,” Kiyoomi scolds gently as he helps Ayame back to her feet. His brow furrows when Ayame starts tugging at his sleeve immediately, her hands too small to actually grasp onto Kiyoomi’s.

“Later, Uncle! There’s no time to talk, this is urgent! You need to come with me now!” Ayame demands breathlessly, her hazel eyes wide. Kiyoomi shifts to stand up straight, gently tugging the sleeve of his beige trench coat from her grasp.

“Why? What’s going on?” Kiyoomi asks, keeping his voice calm and level. Ayame stomps her foot in response, huffing.

“There’s one of those pet auctions happening down there,” Ayame says, and Kiyoomi’s surprised that Ayame’s keeping her voice low, as if afraid that passerbys would make a remark. She points down the street into an alley, one that led to a series of buildings that Kiyoomi and his social circle knew a little too well.

“Ayame, you shouldn’t be going down that street, especially on your own,” Kiyoomi’s tone is sharp, even through the fabric of his mask. “It’s dangerous, and you’re much too young to be exposed to anything that is down there.”

“But our family has pets!” Ayame protests, “and down there, they’re hurting one of them, Uncle! No one in our family hurts their pets. You’re the nicest person I know besides Papa, so you have to help him!” Ayame wraps her limbs around Kiyoomi’s arms, tugging at it with all of her weight. “He’s not just hurting on the outside, Uncle Omi. He’s hurting on the inside too. I can see it. He’s too pretty to be hurt like that, so please? ”

Kiyoomi sighs, and crouches back down, making a mental reminder to throw his coat into the laundry the moment he got home. He reaches out a gloved hand to brush the tears away from his niece’s eyes.

“How far down the line was this… pet that you found?”

“There’s still six more before him,” Ayame’s eyes are bright, curious and alight with the hope that Kiyoomi was going to help. “Please, Uncle?” Ayame asks, rocking back and forth on her feet. Kiyoomi hesitates.

Within Kiyoomi’s social circle, pets were quite common. They weren’t the typical household tabby cat or Shiba Inu that the majority of people thought of —  but rather a gorgeous part-human species with animal qualities. They’d been created, developed and bred purely for human pleasure.

They never contracted diseases, healed quickly, had a lengthened lifespan and often kept their young appearance; and because of that, pets circulated the black market often and sold for obscene amounts of money, especially the pure breeds.

Kiyoomi, in his entire twenty-three years of living, never had an interest in getting a pet, and even the thought of owning a living being made him feel sick to his stomach. But, Ayame was a peculiar five-year-old. She never begged or asked for anything and Motoya often grasped at straws when it came to getting gifts for his little girl. So when Ayame asked for something, she was serious about it.

“Fine. Take me there, then,” Kiyoomi relents, and Ayame perks up immediately.

“This way, Uncle!” Kiyoomi allows Ayame to grab onto his sleeve, tugging him down the street before ducking into the side street. He can hear the low murmuring of people as they hurry past, the majority of them clad in expensive designer clothing. As they approach the auction house, two women are leaving and Kiyoomi catches a snippet of their conversation as they get closer.

“Did you catch a glimpse of that fox?” One woman giggles.

“Oh, he was a gorgeous one,” the other sighs dreamily, drumming manicured nails against her cheek. “You know, if he wasn’t so… feral, I would’ve snatched that cutie up in a heartbeat.”

“I was almost tempted to overlook his tendencies when I realized he was especially well endowed,” the first woman’s eyes dart in the direction of Kiyoomi and Ayame as they pass, her expression twisting down into one of disgust. Kiyoomi simply stares back at her, as if challenging her — the irony within that moment was ridiculous — and the woman immediately looks away a tiny flush painting her cheeks.

Kiyoomi sees Ayame’s brow furrow, lips drawing down into an angry scowl, her fingers curling tightly into the fabric of Kiyoomi’s jacket. Kiyoomi shifts, using his flexible wrists to his advantage as he gently takes Ayame’s hand in his, squeezing softly in hopes to convey comfort. Ayame offers him a shaky smile before they come to a halt right outside of the auction house’s clear glass window.

“There,” Ayame whispers, pointing through the glass. Kiyoomi follows her finger to see a fox pet standing on the stage, the only one with his ankles and wrists chained together with shackles. Kiyoomi can see that there’s a metal bar slotted between the fox’s teeth, strapped around the back of his head to act as both a gag and a muzzle.

A ruffled red fox tail was tucked between his legs, as a pair of ears laid flat against a head of blonde hair. The fox whipped his head to the side as a handler prodded at him with a metal pole to get him to inch forward. Even from this distance, the anger and fear radiating off of the pet was palpable, and Kiyoomi could see fresh and bloody lacerations across his skin.

“Please, Uncle?” Kiyoomi glances down at Ayame, who stares back at him with wide eyes. “He’s so pretty and he’s hurting. I want to help him. If you get him, I can even help you take care of him.” Ayame tilts her head, before her lips part in an almost horrified manner. “Wait, you’re not going to… do that to him, are you?”

“Of course not, Princess,” Kiyoomi frowns, before he lowers his mask to press a brief kiss to Ayame’s forehead. “I’ll do my best to save him, okay?” Ayame nods, peering back into the auction house as Kiyoomi tugs his mask back into place. “Ayame, go ahead to the nearest bakery and get something for your lunch. Try and see if you can find something that the fox will like, okay?” He hands Ayame a thousand yen bill, and the little girl nods vigorously before she hugs Kiyoomi fiercely. Kiyoomi watches as she scurries off down the street to duck into a bakery before he makes his way into the building.

He reaches into the inner pocket of his coat to flash his family’s insignia at the bouncer, who bows at him briefly in respect.

“Sakusa-sama, welcome,” the bouncer gives Kiyoomi a smile before handing over a small panel with the number seven printed in bold, white paint. Kiyoomi accepts it, and steels himself as he steps into the auction room. He hates how it reminds him of the stupid fancy gala events his parents always force him to attend with pristine white sheets draped over tall and circular tables. Everyone inside is dressed in overly fancy clothing for just a daily outing, and the judgemental looks that people sport as Kiyoomi walks past makes his skin crawl.

Kiyoomi finds himself at an empty table near the front, where he’s in clear view of the stage.

Here, he can see that the fox actually has a thick leather collar around his neck, something he’d missed from looking from afar. The fox pet was indeed gorgeous and well endowed as the two women from earlier had tittered about, but Kiyoomi felt something akin to a metaphorical shard of glass slice into his chest at the raw look of desperation swimming in the fox’s eyes.

As if sensing his gaze, the fox’s head swivels, honey gold eyes locking with Kiyoomi’s dark ones. A memory flickers in the back of Kiyoomi’s mind, of sunset and moonrise, but it’s gone before he can grab onto it. The fox bares his teeth in a vicious snarl, and Kiyoomi averts his gaze, knowing that if he wants to help this fox it’s best to show that he isn’t going to be an enemy.

There’s a pained yelp, and Kiyoomi’s gaze immediately shoots back to the stage just in time to see a handler strike the fox in the back — presumably for snarling at Kiyoomi — and a snicker runs through the crowded auction house. The fox seems to shrink in on himself. Determination floods through Kiyoomi’s veins: he’s going to help this fox, no matter the cost. When the fox pet is called up, shoved forward by the handler, Kiyoomi sees nearly everyone in the room shift forward in apprehension.

“Here we have Atsumu, previously within a set of twins, and a gorgeous pureblooded fox who just so happens to be the youngest of the bunch tonight at twenty years old.” The auctioneer pauses as a collective gasp sweeps through the room. Kiyoomi could understand why. Finding a pureblooded pet was extremely rare — especially a set of twins — which resulted in them going for skyrocketing prices. Kiyoomi briefly wonders why there’s only one of the two twins in the auction, but he isn’t able to dwell on his thoughts for too long.

“The bidding starts now.”

“Thirty million,” Kiyoomi immediately raises his panel, ignoring the arched brow the auctioneer sends his way from behind the podium.

“It looks like a newcomer has arrived with his eyes set on the prize,” the smirk on the auctioneer’s face is disgusting. “We have thirty million as our highest bid, anyone for thirty-five?”

“Fifty million!” Someone shouts from the back.

“Fifty million, we have fifty million as our highest bid,” the auctioneer announces.

“Seventy million,” Kiyoomi lifts his panel again, trying to fight down the nausea he’s feeling as the reality of the situation he’s in comes crashing down. He’s really in an auction house, filled with strangers who were probably carrying some sort of germs, bidding for what was practically the equivalent of a slave. What made it worse was that everyone in the room was likely assuming that whoever won Atsumu would be using him for their own pleasure, and that made him sick.

“One hundred million!” A woman from a couple tables over lifts her panel with a nasty glare in Kiyoomi’s direction.

“A hundred and twenty-five million,” Kiyoomi interjects before the auctioneer can say something. Kiyoomi’s gaze flickers to the stage when he feels a pair of eyes on him to see Atsumu staring at him. His ears are at half mast, seemingly curious, and Kiyoomi can see that the earlier laceration wounds have already started to close up. Although those have already started to heal, Kiyoomi knew that whatever mental or emotional scars that the fox had suffered through will remain forever.

“We have a bidder of a hundred and seventy-five million!” The auctioneer’s voice jolts Kiyoomi’s attention back into the present. Kiyoomi grits his teeth, and wanting to complete the bid and get out of the filthy building, lifts his panel and says goodbye to an obscene amount of money he would never spend otherwise.

“Three hundred and fifty million,” Kiyoomi’s voice rings loud and clear over the soft chatter of the auction house, even through the fabric of his mask, and a hush falls over everyone.

“Three hundred and fifty million,” the auctioneer sounds winded. “Three hundred and fifty million, going once… going twice… and sold to number seven!” There’s polite clapping, and Kiyoomi straightens, heading directly into the side room where he would be receiving Atsumu.

As he waits, Kiyoomi scribbles out a check of three hundred and fifty million yen, slamming it onto the small table where a tired looking man with a small cash box is sitting. Kiyoomi’s given a small slip of paper to fill out to confirm his purchase, which he hands back. The other man passes over a manila folder, explaining that it’s Atsumu’s official bloodwork. Kiyoomi tucks it beneath his arm.

A few minutes later, the door’s thrown open and the fox stumbles inside, as if shoved. Atsumu trips over his shackled ankles, falling to the floor with a pained yelp that’s muffled by the metal rod in his mouth. The yelp turns into a snarl as one of the handlers jabs him in the side with a metal pole, and Kiyoomi immediately steps forward, his expression stormy as he practically tears the pole from the handler’s grip, throwing it to the ground.

“Quit jabbing him with those metal rods,” Kiyoomi snaps, irritably. “He’s likely only snapping at you because you keep antagonizing him. Give me the keys for the chains.” The handler hands over the keys, though he looks hesitant to do so.

Kiyoomi crouches, careful to stay eye level or lower with Atsumu, who’s now sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest, vulpine eyes watching warily. Kiyoomi holds out a hand, palm up, and Atsumu growls low in his throat.

“I just want to take these off,” Kiyoomi taps at the shackles on Atsumu’s wrists. Atsumu glares at Kiyoomi, but when there are no signs of aggression, the fox reluctantly places a hand in Kiyoomi’s open palm.

Kiyoomi’s careful as he unlocks the shackles, taking note of how Atsumu stiffens slightly when gloved fingers brush against the inner part of his wrists and ankles. He finds himself frowning at the red marks on Atsumu’s skin. Atsumu’s tail flicks back and forth as Kiyoomi sets aside the shackles, but his head jerks back as Kiyoomi lifts his hands to reach for the strap holding the metal bar between his teeth.

“Sir, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” the handler speaks up, but he immediately backs off when Kiyoomi shoots him a glare.

“Why’s that?” Kiyoomi’s tone is flat, and the handler falters.

“Well, he’s rather uncontrollable.” The handler says, flinching back as Atsumu turns to bare his teeth at him. Kiyoomi huffs out an irritated sound and straightens, offering a hand to Atsumu, who keeps his hands close to his chest. Atsumu stares back at him, an almost hesitant challenge blazing in his eyes before he relents and lets Kiyoomi help him back to his feet.

His fox tail flicks against muscular thighs, ears twitching atop his head. Kiyoomi can tell that Atsumu’s trying his best to keep his distance between both the handler and Kiyoomi without trying to be obvious about it.

“Hey, Atsumu,” Kiyoomi speaks in a soft and low voice. Atsumu’s ears flick, but he doesn’t meet Kiyoomi’s eyes. “Can you promise me not to bite me, or claw my eyes out if I undo the strap around your head?” Atsumu looks like he’s about to growl when there’s a tiny click that Kiyoomi hears, and Atsumu immediately submits. Kiyoomi’s head whips in the direction of the handler, who flinches backwards.

Kiyoomi lifts a hand, palm up and waits. The handler hesitates before he places a small remote into it. Kiyoomi snatches it up instantly, throwing it onto the floor before he crushes it with the heel of his boot.

“They are not animals that need to be tamed,” Kiyoomi snaps, all too aware of Atsumu’s curious eyes burning a hole into the side of his head. “Now, as I’ve made the transaction and Atsumu’s beneath my care, if you could leave us alone for a bit, I think he can feel comfortable enough to relax at least a little it.” The handler looks almost offended before he relents and slinks out of the room.

Atsumu makes a soft gurgling noise, and Kiyoomi turns to face him, lifting his hands slowly, watching the way the fox’s claws twitched against his chest. Atsumu tilts his head forward, suddenly — and surprisingly — submissive. Kiyoomi reaches forward, careful and slow, but Atsumu makes no move to lash out. Kiyoomi makes quick work of the strap of the metal bar, and frowns as he brushes a thumb gently against the reddened marks on Atsumu’s cheeks.

The fox is staring up at him with wide eyes, swimming with confusion and something else Kiyoomi couldn’t read, as if Atsumu couldn’t believe he was being handled with gentle gestures. Atsumu jerks back a few moments later, a yelp mixed with a growl leaving his lips as Kiyoomi’s fingers brush the back of his neck. Kiyoomi immediately pulls his hands back.

“Isn’t it uncomfortable?” Kiyoomi asks, frowning slightly. Atsumu hesitates, and Kiyoomi sees his throat bob.

“Sir,” Kiyoomi turns as he hears another voice. He almost forgot that the other man who handled the transactions was in the room. “I strongly advise that you wait until you’re out of this… building before you take off the collar.” Kiyoomi tilts his head.

“How come?”

“If someone sees an uncollared pet out on the street, even if they’re with their masters, they’re considered to be… well, free.” Atsumu growls at that, tail curling around him protectively. The other man doesn’t bat an eye.

“Thanks for letting me know,” Kiyoomi nods, and the other man waves a hand, looking rather bored as he goes back to scribbling on the desk. “Let’s go home, Atsumu.” 

“Home…” Kiyoomi starts when he hears a soft and raspy voice. There’s an almost wistful look on his face. “Tsumu doesn’t know what home is.”

“Well then, why don’t we find out what home means together?” Kiyoomi murmurs. He shrugs off his coat and holds it out, an offering to Atsumu. Atsumu steps forward, his tail between his legs and his shoulders curved inwards, flinching slightly when Kiyoomi lets the fabric brush up against still-healing wounds. As Kiyoomi buttons up the coat, Atsumu stares at him in surprise, arms half tangled in the sleeves.

The pets that Kiyoomi has seen before never seemed to mind walking around buck naked, whether it was in the comfort of their own home, or in public. Kiyoomi isn’t sure if Atsumu’s previous… owners ever let him wear clothes.

“My niece is with me,” Kiyoomi explains. “I’m not certain if you are comfortable with being naked in public, but for now, would you be alright with this?” Atsumu nods, ears flopping.

“Tsumu in chains?” Atsumu asks, tugging at his collar. Kiyoomi frowns.

“As long as you don’t go running off, I don’t see a reason to keep you chained to me.” Kiyoomi shrugs. “If you stay loyal to me by not running off, then I’ll stay loyal to you and keep you safe, okay?”

“Tsumu don’t run.” Atsumu murmurs. Atsumu clutches the coat close to his body, and Kiyoomi helps to button up the coat to retain a sense of decency before he offers a hand, palm up. Atsumu stares at him, before he slides a hand into Kiyoomi’s. Kiyoomi makes a mental note to have Atsumu’s nails done — they’re jagged and torn in several places.

“My niece is probably waiting for us,” Kiyoomi nods at the other man before he leads Atsumu out of the small room and out of the door. Atsumu’s mostly quiet, though he growls if anyone snickers when they pass by. They’ve barely stepped foot outside the building when Kiyoomi hears an elated cry.

“Uncle!” Kiyoomi lets out a sigh of relief as he sees Ayame running towards them. He sees Atsumu tense next to him as Ayame skids to a halt, holding a half-eaten bakery sandwich in one hand and a baguette in a bag in the other. “You did it!”

“I did,” Kiyoomi gently ruffles Ayame’s hair, gaze flicking to Atsumu. There’s curiosity in his vulpine eyes, a curious glow to those honey-golden orbs. “This is my niece, Ayame. Ayame, this is Atsumu.” Atsumu tilts his head at her in greeting.

“Hi Atsumu! You’re really pretty.” Kiyoomi watches, somewhat endeared as a light flush spreads across Atsumu’s cheeks. Kiyoomi leads them down the street, skin prickling as Atsumu sticks close to him, the tension and unease rolling off of the fox in waves. The grip on Kiyoomi’s hand is tight, and he squeezes once in hopes to convey comfort.

During the drive back to the Sakusa mansion, Kiyoomi tugs off his gloves to drop them into a plastic bag to throw them away when they get home. When Kiyoomi reaches for a second pair of gloves in his pocket, his fingers brush the top of Atsumu’s bare thighs by accident and immediately draws them back when he feels Atsumu stiffen.

The low growl rumbling in Atsumu’s throat is the only warning Kiyoomi has before Atsumu bares his teeth, as if preparing to bite into Kiyoomi’s shoulder. In one swift movement, Kiyoomi blocks Atsumu’s lunge with the baguette from earlier. Atsumu reels back, a surprised noise leaving his lips as he stares with wide eyes, holding the baguette like a dog would a bone. His clawed hands come up to gingerly wrap around the bread to pull it from his mouth, brows furrowing.

When Kiyoomi doesn’t show any anger, and instead gives an encouraging nod towards the baguette, he can tell that Atsumu’s confused. Atsumu slowly tears off a chunk of the baguette and nibbles on the soft inside. His shoulders relax, and Kiyoomi sees their driver’s eyes flicker in their direction, arching a pointed eyebrow in a wordless question at the mess Atsumu was making. Kiyoomi doesn’t grace her with a response.

Atsumu looks content, and his ears have perked up from where they’d previously laid flat against his skull, feet swinging back and forth ever so slightly. It isn’t until the driver pulls into the driveway that Atsumu tenses up again and Kiyoomi realizes that his family, Motoya especially, is going to have a royal conniption.

As the car rolls to a stop, Atsumu seems to curl back in on himself. A few servants hurry out onto the driveway to open the doors, and a couple immediately jump back when Atsumu’s the first thing that they see. Atsumu’s ears slowly lower to half mast, lips curling over sharper teeth. He doesn’t growl, which Kiyoomi finds somewhat surprising. The hard crust of the baguette crackles beneath Atsumu’s fingers.

“Don’t worry,” Kiyoomi speaks quietly. He knows Atsumu can hear him as his fox ears twitch. “You’re with me. I’ll make sure you stay safe,” Kiyoomi adds. Atsumu’s eyes flicker back to Kiyoomi, and nods hesitantly, jaw relaxing as his eyes lose that defiant and fiery glow. Atsumu slips out of the car first, keeping the jacket clutched tightly to his body, hugging the baguette close.

Kiyoomi gets out next to him and sees Ayame waiting patiently a few paces ahead. He gestures for Atsumu to follow him and leads them through the second set of gates before opening the door. As soon as the three of them enter the mansion, there’s a scream followed by the sound of shattering glass.

Atsumu flinches, legs buckling beneath him. Kiyoomi catches him before he can fall into the shards of glass. Kiyoomi glances up to see his older sister staring at them with wide eyes, a silver tray laying upside down on the floor surrounded by broken dishes.

“Nōhime,” Kiyoomi inclines his head. “Could you watch over Ayame while I get Atsumu settled?” Nōhime nods, seemingly stunned. Kiyoomi turns to Atsumu, who bares his teeth at him. “Atsumu,” Kiyoomi makes sure that his tone is neutral, but Atsumu still bristles. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Atsumu sneers, lips curling over his teeth. 

Kiyoomi has a strong suspicion that Atsumu’s been abused in the past, and each flinch that ripples through Atsumu’s body when someone brushes near him, the growls that escape his lips has only started to confirm them.

“I promise. Ayame wants me to take care of you and to keep you safe, and I wouldn’t ever let her down.” Kiyoomi says, and Ayame nods in earnest.

“Uncle Kiyoomi is a really nice man! He wouldn’t ever hurt you.” Ayame chirps, peering up at Atsumu. “You’ll be safe here.” Atsumu looks hesitant, but his eyes flicker back to Kiyoomi, who offers out a hand.

“I can show you where to get washed up, and get you dressed in something warm and comfortable.” Kiyoomi says. “If you’re still hungry, I can get you something else to munch on.” Atsumu’s brow furrows as he stares down at the baguette, still clutched closely to his chest. He still nods, keeping his distance from Nōhime as he follows Kiyoomi out of the main hall and up a spiraling staircase. Kiyoomi hears whispering hisses from his sister and Ayame, picking up on his niece’s defensive tone.

“I told Uncle to save him! Atsumu was getting hurt, and I didn’t like seeing it.”

“Nōhime, I’ll explain this to Mother and Father,” Kiyoomi calls over his shoulder. He sees his sister nod as servants hurry into the main hall to clean up the mess. Kiyoomi leads Atsumu down to the room he stays at whenever he visits his parents, and nods at one of the maids in passing in the hallway.

“Could you go draw a bath for Atsumu?” He gestures towards Atsumu, who’s gone back to nibbling at the baguette. The maid’s eyes go wide before she nods quickly.

“Sir, would you like the room next to yours prepared as well?” Kiyoomi nods, grateful that the maids in the house remember and are willing to accommodate. The shorter woman bows respectfully before she hurries ahead, calling to a few others for help.

“Are you comfortable with having your own room?” Kiyoomi asks. Atsumu pauses, finally lifting his head to tilt it to the side. Kiyoomi nearly forgot that Atsumu still had a collar on.

“Own?” Atsumu parrots, blinking at Kiyoomi curiously.

“Yes. You’ll have your own room to stay in.” Kiyoomi confirms. Atsumu shuffles on his feet, eyes darting from side to side. “Atsumu,” Kiyoomi’s voice is soft. “I can promise you that I will do my very best to keep you safe. I won’t hurt you, and I won’t touch you in any way unless you want me to. I want you to be able to trust me.”

A small whine leaves Atsumu’s throat, vulpine eyes squeezing shut before he shakes his head almost violently, ears flopping from side to side.

“I’ll have to work harder to show you I mean it,” Kiyoomi murmurs, mostly to himself. “Does a bath sound nice?” Kiyoomi asks as he crosses the room to open the door to the bathroom. Atsumu perks up at that, a happy trilling noise leaving his lips. Kiyoomi feels a small smile curl at his own lips beneath his mask. “Come here, then.”

This time, when Atsumu follows, there’s a tiny spring to his step.

Kiyoomi nearly gets his shoulder bitten when he tries to take the baguette from Atsumu, the fox growling and snapping his teeth. The maids who’re preparing the room they’re in look startled, but Kiyoomi waves them off.

“Atsumu, if you bring that into the tub with you, you won’t have anything to eat afterwards,” Kiyoomi huffs, slightly frustrated as he grips about a quarter of what was left of the baguette, the rest of the bread clutched close to Atsumu’s body. Atsumu grumbles something at that, before he hands over the bread with a scowl. The coat Atsumu’s wearing is covered in breadcrumbs.

“Go ahead and rinse off in the shower first before you get into the bath.” Kiyoomi places the baguette on the small table in his bedroom, making a mental note to ask to have his room vacuumed later.

Atsumu nods, his fingers fumbling with buttons as he struggles to shed himself of the clothes. An irritated growl leaves his throat when he fails, and looks up at Kiyoomi, hands falling to his sides and lips drawn down into a small pout. Kiyoomi approaches carefully and slowly, not quite certain if Atsumu wants help. Atsumu nods, and remains stock still as Kiyoomi unbuttons the jacket, carefully letting the fabric slip off of Atsumu’s naked skin.

One of the maids takes it immediately, whisking it off to get washed. Kiyoomi taps at his throat, and Atsumu tilts his head, hands lifting to his own. When his fingers brush against the collar, Atsumu hesitates before he nods. Atsumu tilts his head back and Kiyoomi undoes the collar with nimble fingers, pausing when Atsumu swallows thickly.

When Atsumu doesn’t do anything else, Kiyoomi continues until the collar has been unwound from his throat, placed to the side. Atsumu rubs at the reddened skin, lips drawn down into a frown.

“Come with me,” Kiyoomi says, gently. He leads Atsumu to the bathroom and shows him how the faucets on the shower work. The bath’s already drawn, steam coiling up from the surface a few paces away in the large bathroom. Kiyoomi sees the way Atsumu’s eyes light up. “Rinse first,” Kiyoomi’s tone is firm.

Atsumu bounds over to the shower, tinkering with the knobs before hot water sprays down. He sticks his head beneath the spray, tail swishing behind him happily.

“I’ll go get you a towel and clothes for when you’re done.” Kiyoomi has to raise his voice to be heard over the water. “Take as long as you’d like, okay?” Atsumu turns to stare at him with wide eyes. Kiyoomi simply smiles, tilts his head politely to the side before he walks back into his room. The maids are already cleaning up the carpet, and one takes the gloves that Kiyoomi peels off. Kiyoomi takes a set of towels from the fresh laundry pile and hangs them up on the heater, turning it onto the lowest setting.

Kiyoomi finds a clean set of clothes; a pair of underwear, some soft sweatpants and an old hoodie and places them on the sink. Atsumu seems to be in his own world, claws scrubbing through a head of suds. Kiyoomi leaves quietly, closing the door behind him, and takes a second change of clothes and heads into the guest bedroom connected to his, slipping into the smaller bathroom.

He strips and scrubs at his body beneath the hot water until his skin feels raw, letting the feeling of filth swirl and wash down the drain. Kiyoomi finishes his shower and steps out, patting himself dry to slip into clean clothes, sighing softly in contentment. He slips on a new mask and a clean pair of gloves and steps back out into the guest bedroom, nodding to the maids working there before he tosses his dirty clothes into the basket near the door. He’s greeted by the sight of Motoya sitting on the edge of his bed staring at the floor.

“So, would you like to explain to me why my daughter’s telling me that you’ve brought a fox pet home?” Motoya drawls, looking up.

“Ayame, as always, ran ahead through the crowd.” Kiyoomi holds up a hand as Motoya opens his mouth to interrupt, “you’ve lost her more times than I count, so don’t you think about chastising me. Ayame ended up stumbling across the auction house and saw Atsumu through the window. She said that they were hurting him. If I remember correctly, he was the only one being whipped. Anyways, Ayame ran back to me and begged me to save him and keep him safe. He’s taking a bath right now.”

Motoya’s expression was a mix of incredulity and astonishment.

“So you’re telling me that you, my cousin Sakusa Kiyoomi, a germaphobe since birth, someone who hates being in the close vicinity of practically anyone, willingly took in a pet, who’s circulated through the black market for who knows how long, and is probably carrying hundreds upon thousands of—”

“Don’t.” Kiyoomi interrupts tersely, glaring at Motoya who lifts his hands in surrender. His eyes flicker to the bathroom, before he heaves out a sigh, “there’s something about him that feels familiar. I’m not sure what it is, but it’s there.” It’s only then that Kiyoomi allows himself to admit it. He tries to dig through his memories, for that feeling of sunset and moonrise, for the smell of casa blanca lilies and forget-me-nots, for that feeling of sunflower seeds crunching between his teeth as he cowered beneath the shade of a tree in the sweltering heat of the summer, but comes up empty once again. 

There’s a soft rapping at his door, and Kiyoomi turns to see his mother standing there, arms crossed over her chest, expression impassive. Motoya clears this throat and gets to his feet, flashing her a broad smile before he slides past her and escapes down the hallway.

“Mother,” Kiyoomi tips his head at her, walking up to her to press a polite kiss to her cheek. Kiyoomi’s mother is as equally intimidating as she is gorgeous. She smiles at him, eyes flickering to the closed bathroom door.

“I heard that you brought someone else home with you?” She asks. Kiyoomi nods.

“Atsumu. He’s a mistreated fox pet that Ayame notified me about.”

“Ah, so Ayame’s the little rascal behind this,” Mitsuki sighs, a wry smile quirking at the corner of her lips. “Is he in there?” She nods towards the bathroom, and Kiyoomi hums in affirmation. “Come find me in the lounge when he’s done,” Mitsuki says, pressing a kiss to Kiyoomi’s forehead before she leaves the room.

A few minutes later, the bathroom door opens and Atsumu pads out, steam coiling around him. The hoodie dwarfs his entire frame, slipping off of his shoulder. The hem reaches his thighs, and Kiyoomi realizes that Atsumu’s pantsless. When Atsumu sees Kiyoomi standing there, he holds up the underwear and pants clutched in one hand, then turns to point at his tail.

Oh.

Kiyoomi finds a pair of scissors, and takes the garments from Atsumu, carefully cutting slits for his tail to fit through. Atsumu wriggles into the clothes, a contented little trill passing his lips as his tail fits through the slit, waving back and forth. Atsumu looks absolutely awed by the feel of fabric against his skin, twisting around to look at himself.

“Have you ever worn clothes before?” Kiyoomi asks, brow furrowing. Atsumu pauses, the little smile turning down into a small frown as he stares at the sweatpants and hoodie. He slowly shakes his head.

Kiyoomi’s suspicions were mostly confirmed. It was common that pets wore clothes, although depending on what their master was like, they could go naked all the time, even in public and formal places. Pets were typically dressed appropriately during certain events, and pets who weren’t allowed to wear clothes were usually mistreated.

“Did…” Kiyoomi hesitates, not certain if it was appropriate to ask such questions. He’s only known Atsumu for a couple of hours, but there was something about the fox that made him feel protective — to keep him safe from harm. Atsumu tilts his head, blinking up at Kiyoomi curiously. “Did your previous owner hurt you?”

Atsumu’s expression falls, and he stares down at his feet. Droplets of water fall from his blonde hair, fox ears still damp, and Atsumu scratches at the back of his neck, hard enough to leave thin red lines.

“Before, and before too.” Atsumu’s voice is broken and scratchy, and as a choked wheeze left his throat, Kiyoomi feels a chill run down his spine. Atsumu’s voice isn’t just cracked and raspy with disuse; whatever fuckers had their hands on Atsumu before had completely broken him in spirit, trust and voice.

“Oh, Atsumu…” Kiyoomi breathes. He feels a sudden surge of emotion and reaches forward, gently threading his gloved fingers through Atsumu’s damp hair. Atsumu’s ears flick, and he presses his head into Kiyoomi’s touch. “I’ll keep you safe. I promise. Whatever you want, whatever you need, I’ll give you, okay?”

“Even if Tsumu wants freedom?”

“Even if you want freedom,” Kiyoomi confirms. Atsumu falls quiet at that. Kiyoomi’s pretty sure that Atsumu is smart enough to know what could happen if he was ever set free, or if he fled. His life would be in more danger than it had ever been before. The silence is thick, and the light rapping at the door to the guest room has the both of them turning around.

“Sir, the room’s been prepared,” one of the maids is standing there, hands clasped politely before her. “Is there anything else we can do for you?”

“Thank you,” Kiyoomi lets his hands fall back to his sides. “Could you tell my mother that I’ll join her in the lounge in a few minutes?” The maid nods and bows before she hurries out of the room. “Come with me, Atsumu,” Kiyoomi says, before he heads in the direction of the guest bedroom. Atsumu follows, curiously.

The guest bedroom’s been transformed in the few minutes after Kiyoomi had passed through. The king-sized bed is freshly made and the closet, bureau and windows have been wiped down. Kiyoomi can see that the bathroom has also been cleaned.

The only door is the one connecting Kiyoomi’s room to the guest room; something his father had insisted on, “just in case” if he got a pet. Kiyoomi fights the urge to roll his eyes at the irony. He hears Atsumu gasp, and suddenly the fox disappears back into Kiyoomi’s room. Before he can ask what’s wrong, Atsumu reappears, the baguette back in his arms, ears perked up with contentment.

“Don’t eat on the bed, okay?” Kiyoomi warns gently, and Atsumu’s ears twitch as he offers a shy and toothy smile. “This is your room for however long you want to stay.” Kiyoomi adds, watching as Atsumu’s eyes go wide with wonder, scanning the room before he points a finger at himself. Kiyoomi nods, and Atsumu wanders around the room, clawed fingers drumming lightly against the wall, munching on bits of bread as he does so.

“Do you like it?” Kiyoomi asks.

“Mm,” Atsumu replies, nodding.

“Do you need anything?” Kiyoomi leans against the doorframe. Atsumu places what’s left of the baguette on the bureau, carefully dusting off the crumbs from his clothes. He looks almost afraid to answer. “A drink?” Atsumu nods, and Kiyoomi digs around in his pockets for his phone to shoot his mother a quick text to ask if they can have some drinks and snacks brought up to the lounge.

“My mother wants to talk to the two of us,” Kiyoomi says as he pockets his phone. “I’ve asked to have some snacks and drinks brought up to us.” He nods in the direction of the baguette. “Do you want to finish that?” Atsumu bounds across the room to grab the baguette before he spins around to head back to Kiyoomi’s side.

As Kiyoomi leads them to the door of his bedroom, Atsumu hesitates, tugging lightly on Kiyoomi’s sleeve. He gestures to his throat, miming the action of a collar and leash.

“Tsumu safe,” Atsumu says.

“The collar makes you feel safe?” Kiyoomi asks, brow furrowed. Atsumu shakes his head, looking frustrated. His tail is curled around one leg, ears at half mast.

“Collar means Tsumu safe. But Tsumu don’t like collar.”

“As long as you’re close to me, you’ll be safe.” Kiyoomi promises. “We’re only here for a few more weeks before we leave for my flat.” When Atsumu tilts his head, Kiyoomi elaborates. “This is my parents’ house, and everyone’s gathered here for summer holidays. After they’re over, I’ll be driving back to my own house.” It’s not really a house, but Kiyoomi figures it isn’t necessary to explain the difference between a flat and a house.

“Tsumu too? Tsumu go with you?”

“Of course,” Kiyoomi hums, hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks. “As long as you don’t cause trouble, get hurt or hurt others, you can do whatever you want.” They start to walk down the hallway, Kiyoomi leading with Atsumu a couple steps behind. Kiyoomi presumes it’s an instinctive, almost trained thing for Atsumu.

“Name? Tsumu don’t know name. Master?”

“I want you to see me as a friend, not a master,” Kiyoomi’s eyes dart to the side to see Atsumu staring up at him expectantly as they walk. It’s cute. “I’m Sakusa Kiyoomi.”

“Sax… Saxsa Omi.” Despite himself, Kiyoomi lets out a soft snort of amusement, and Atsumu’s nose scrunches up, cheeks flushing a light shade of pink. The slight wagging of his tail gives away his curiosity. “Omi. Omi-Omi,” Atsumu chirps, a genuine smile curling at his lips. “Omi okay?”

“Omi okay,” Kiyoomi confirms. He pauses at the closed door to the lounge and raps his fingers against it before he opens the door.

“Kiyoomi,” Mitsuki says, as she looks up from where she was typing on her laptop. She sets it to the side, and gestures for them to sit across from her. Kiyoomi settles down on the couch and gestures for Atsumu to sit down beside him. Atsumu follows his lead, and curls in on himself when Mitsuki stares at him, then at the baguette still cradled in his arms. Atsumu sets it on the table before them awkwardly.

“Mother,” Kiyoomi begins, “this is Atsumu. Atsumu, this is my mother, Sakusa Mitsuki.”

“Hello,” Atsumu mumbles.

“Izumi-chan will be bringing in some drinks and snacks, as requested,” Mitsuki says, turning her attention back onto Kiyoomi.

“Thank you.” Kiyoomi clasps his hands in his lap. “Ayame led me to the auction house a few hours ago, because she saw Atsumu, who was the only one mistreated during the auction. You know how Ayame never asks for anything, never really wants anything. When I arrived, I saw that Atsumu was being whipped, the only one with chains holding his wrists and ankles together, and with a metal bar in his mouth.”

Atsumu shivers, knees drawn to his chest where he’s hugging his tail, shoulders curled in on himself.

“The handler called him uncontrollable, which I presume is their excuse why Atsumu was chained up. I think that Atsmu was only acting out because they kept hurting him,” Kiyoomi’s eyes flicker to Atsumu, who nods into himself.

“Tsumu was scared.” Atsumu mumbles, cheek pressing into a knee. “Tsumu’s been hurt a lot… Please don’t throw Tsumu out.” Mitsuki pauses, dark eyes watching Atsumu carefully. Atsumu’s ear twitches, and as if sensing her gaze, lifts his head, his vulpine eyes vulnerable. A soft knocking at the door has them all turning as Mitsuki’s personal assistant, Izumi, walks in balancing two trays.

“Thank you, Izumi-chan,” Mitsuki smiles as Izumi places down a tray with a teapot and a set of mugs, followed by a tray of cookies and finger sandwiches. Izume gives a short bow before she spins around gracefully on a heel to walk back out of the room. Mitsuki pours herself a mug of tea, and leans back against the lounge chair.

“Atsumu? Do you want some?” Kiyoomi glances down at Atsumu, who seems to hesitate, eyes flickering to Mitsuki. She takes a sip from the teacup, and when nothing happens, Atsumu nods slowly. Kiyoomi pours a cup of tea and carefully hands it over to Atsumu, who cradles it in both palms, staring wide-eyed at the steam coiling off of the surface.

“I don’t know anything about his past, but from what I’ve gathered from physical cues over the past few hours, it wasn’t good.” Kiyoomi continues as he leans back in his seat. “As you know, Mother, I’ve never been interested in having a… pet, or rather our social circle’s fancier term for a sexual slave.” Atsumu flinches next to him, one hand reaching to tug the hood over his head. “Ayame’s the one who convinced me to try to save Atsumu. I can’t heal whatever mental or physical scars he has, but I do want to show him that not all humans are horrible.”

Kiyoomi’s eyes flicker over to Atsumu, who peers up at him from beneath the hoodie, and a wry smile tugs at his lips, “I’d like to show him that I’m here as a friend, not as someone who owns him.” Atsumu perks up at that, ears slipping out from beneath the hood.

“Omi friend? Omi not lying?” There’s a thin veneer of hope to what would otherwise be miserably intoned questions.

“I can assure you that my son stays true to his word,” Mitsuki finally speaks up, setting her teacup down with a clink. Atsumu glances at her, eyes curious. “He’s never shown any inkling of interest in having a pet, much to my husband’s disappointment, so agreeing to take one in is a huge step. I understand that you must be on edge, but I can assure you, if Kiyoomi promises that no harm comes to you, then you’ll be safe.”

“What about Tsumu being used?” Atsumu asks, fingers twisting together, the tips of his jagged nails nearly piercing through his skin. Kiyoomi’s almost forgot about them, and makes a mental note to ask Atsumu if he wants them trimmed later on. “Tsumu’s old masters used Tsumu for human pleasure. Will Omi be the same?”

“I’m demisexual,” Kiyoomi explains, “I feel no sexual attraction, or feel the need to be sexually active or inclined towards anyone unless I have a strong emotional bond with them.” Atsumu blinks, ears twitching atop his head.

“So Tsumu won’t be used? Omi no lie?” Atsumu visibly perks up, arms relaxing slightly from where they’d been wrapped tightly around his legs.

“You won’t be used, I promise.”

“But Omi will be kind to Tsumu? Is that emotional bond?” Atsumu asks, eyes darting to Mitsuki, who’s silently watching their exchange.

“It could be,” Kiyoomi says truthfully. Atsumu’s shoulders stiffen. “But we’ll cross that hurdle when, or if we even get there.” Atsumu falls silent, and Kiyoomi turns his gaze back to his mother.

“I trust that you’ll follow through with your word,” Mitsuki says. “But Kiyoomi, do remember that we will be having guests throughout the rest of the summer break.”

“I am aware.” Kiyoomi crosses his legs at the knee, body relaxing into the back of the couch. “I’ll get something figured out.”

“So Tsumu will be okay?”

“I’ll make sure that you stay safe,” Kiyoomi says, reaching out to ruffle Atsumu’s blonde hair. “You don’t deserve to be thrown back into the market.” Atsumu shivers at that, shaking his head.

“Omi’s been nice,” Atsumu mumbles. “Others are mean to Tsumu.” His eyes flicker up to meet Kiyoomi’s, honey-gold irises searching his face before they flicker to Mitsuki. “Will Omi turn on Tsumu too?”

“I won’t,” Kiyoomi confirms, “but I’ll have to gain your trust, right?” Atsumu nods slowly, and Kiyoomi feels a pang of something in his chest. Although he has no intention to harm Atsumu, he knows that the fox’s past trauma will make it difficult for him to trust others right away.

“You’re in good hands,” Mitsuki says, and this time there’s a genuine smile on her face. “Welcome to the family, Atsumu-kun.”

Kiyoomi spends the next few days with Atsumu. He learns that Atsumu likes to groom his tail, and it takes a few times before Atsumu stops his grooming to jump to his feet when Kiyoomi walks into the room. He helps Atsumu keep his nails neatly trimmed, but long enough to make him feel safe enough to defend himself if need be. Kiyoomi also teaches Atsumu how to read, write and speak properly, and basic survival skills as a human. 

He’s almost shocked at the lack of Atsumu’s survival instincts — although Atsumu’s quick to growl and snap at his teeth, he’s also quick to submit. Atsumu’s skittish, jumping if Kiyoomi brushes up against him by accident and he’s suspicious of the food and drinks that are placed before him that he doesn’t see Kiyoomi whip up himself. 

Fortunately, Atsumu grows a little more confident by the day, sometimes tugging at Kiyoomi’s sleeve when he’s working to shyly ask for a snack or a drink. Atsumu’s determination and eagerness to learn everything he can is endearing.

Everything’s been relatively smooth sailing since Atsumu’s arrival at the Sakusa mansion. There are a few servants who throw dirty looks at Atsumu whenever he and Kiyoomi pass by, but everyone else is kind and accommodating. It isn’t until the fourth night that Kiyoomi’s woken up by a sharp cry.

He sits up in bed, rubbing at his eyes, disoriented. The cry comes again and Kiyoomi’s throwing off his covers, stumbling into Atsumu’s room to fumble at the wall, turning on the lights. Atsumu’s writhing in his sheets, body twisted as whimpers and wails escape his lips. Kiyoomi approaches carefully, knowing that if he tried to wake Atsumu, he’d likely get claws swiped at his face.

“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi calls, voice soft. Atsumu’s ears twitch, eyes squeezing shut. Kiyoomi can see that Atsumu’s claws have torn through the sheets, downy fluff from the comforter speckling the sheets around him. “Atsumu,” Kiyoomi raises his voice again. Atsumu writhes, chest arching up, tail lashing. Kiyoomi calls for Atsumu once more before the fox’s eyes flash open and he jerks awake.

Atsumu’s entire body jolts when he realizes Kiyoomi’s standing there, fox ears flat against his head, eyes wild. A growl escapes Atsumu’s throat, and Kiyoomi immediately stops moving, hands lifting in surrender. Atsumu’s shoulders are trembling, curling in on himself as his breath leaves him in short pants.

“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi starts again, “are you okay?” Atsumu’s ears flick back against his skull. There’s a few moments of silence before Atsumu slowly shakes his head. Kiyoomi hesitates, mulling over the next few words that he’s thinking about saying. He’s never let anyone come too close to him — let alone sleep in the same bed as him.

“Tsumu scared,” Atsumu says, fingers twisting into his shirt.

“Do you want to come sleep beside me, then?” Kiyoom finds himself asking. Atsumu hesitates, ears curling forward. He doesn’t reply, and Kiyoomi realizes why a few seconds later. “Only if you want to,” Kiyoomi adds. Atsumu worries his lower lip with his teeth, sharp incisors threatening to pierce skin. Kiyoomi waits for a few more minutes as Atsumu shuffles on the bed, knees tucked close to his chest with his arms wound around his legs.

“Tsumu trusts Omi, but Tsumu scared,” Atsumu mumbles, and Kiyoomi shifts to crouch at the edge of the mattress, trying to wordlessly coax the fox to lift his head. Honey gold vulpine eyes meet dark brown, unblinking for several moments before Kiyoomi offers him a half smile. Atsumu ducks his head, ears twitching, and he carefully straightens his legs. Kiyoomi gets back to his feet, and Atsumu slides his legs over the side of the bed to stand, shifting forward to look up at Kiyoomi. Kiyoomi reaches out to gently run his fingers through Atsumu’s hair, curling them to scratch at the base of fluffy fox ears. Atsumu leans into the touch, eyes fluttering shut.

“You’re okay, Atsumu. No one’s going to hurt you here,” Kiyoomi says softly with a genuine promise in his voice. Atsumu nods, ears flopping on his head. Kiyoomi leads Atsumu back into his room, flicking off the lights to the guest room as they cross the threshold to the door. He takes note of the way that Atsumu tenses up when Kiyoomi readjusts the covers, glancing over his shoulder.

“Only if you want to,” Kiyoomi reminds Atsumu. When Atsumu gives him a wary look, a memory clicks in the back of his mind. Kiyoomi moves towards the closet to pull out a new set of sheets and pillows. When he turns back around, Atsumu’s still standing where Kiyoomi had left him, vulpine eyes glimmering in the moonlight filtering through his windows. As he makes his way back over to the bed, Atsumu tilts his head at Kiyoomi curiously, ears pricked.

“Whenever Ayame has a bad dream, she wants to have someone close. If you’re uncomfortable with sleeping in the same bed as me, I can sleep on the couch, and you can have the bed.” Atsumu stares at Kiyoomi with something akin to reverence, though he hesitates, eyes flickering from the bed to the couch a few paces away. Atsumu nods towards the couch, and makes grabby hands. 

Kiyoomi, confused, gives the blankets to Atsumu, who scurries over to the couch before flopping down, burrito rolling himself into the extra blankets, peeking up with a tiny grin on his face. Kiyoomi rolls his eyes, and moves the couple of steps towards Atsumu to ruffle his hair gently before moving back to the bed. There are a few moments of silence before Kiyoomi hears Atsumu speak again.

“Thank you, Omi.” Atsumu whispers. “For helping Tsumu nicely.”

Kiyoomi isn’t certain what has changed in Atsumu, but the fox clings even closer to him after Kiyoomi found him twisted in his bedsheets. Kiyoomi’s more surprised to find that he doesn’t mind it. Atsumu takes great care in keeping himself clean and groomed — if Kiyoomi isn’t teaching him how to read, write and speak properly, Atsumu’s bathing or grooming his tail — that’s when he looks the happiest. He no longer tenses when Kiyoomi accidentally brushes up against him, and instead pushes his head further into Kiyoomi’s hand when he’s allowed to run his gloved fingers through fluffy blonde hair.

Atsumu seems to find joy in writing as well, and though his handwriting is… atrocious to say the least, Kiyoomi thinks it’s endearing when he finds a messily scribbled note on his pillow, and sees a disappearing flash of fox fur from his periphery. When Kiyoomi asks if Atsumu wants something to write in, instead of searching for scraps of paper to write notes and practice with, Atsumu’s eyes light up with an eagerness Kiyoomi’s never seen him display before.

Atsumu keeps the journal and pen with him at all times, hugged close to his chest, and he gets quite nervous if he doesn’t have it close by. Kiyoomi finds it endearing. The only thing Kiyoomi doesn’t like is when Atsumu chews on the ends of the pens, and he has to gently pluck them from Atsumu’s grasp. He gives in when Atsumu’s lips draw down into a pout, ears drooping as a mumbled apology slips from his lips. 

Sometimes, when Kiyoomi’s working in the evening on the couch in his room, Atsumu will come out of his own room, dressed in clothes a little too large for him. Kiyoomi shifts over wordlessly, and Atsumu happily crawls onto the couch next to him, a comforting warmth pressing into his side. 

Atsumu curls up next to Kiyoomi whenever they have one of their lessons, and Kiyoomi no longer flinches when Atsumu ducks behind him, nearly pressed up against the length of Kiyoomi’s back as someone from the mansion throws them a nasty look. Wherever Kiyoomi goes, Atsumu’s only a couple paces behind.

Kiyoomi finds, much to both Motoya’s and his own surprise, that he doesn’t mind it.

“Omi, does Tsumu have to? Tsumu doesn’t wanna.” Kiyoomi sighs, turning around to see Atsumu sitting on the edge of his bed, legs kicking back and forth. His tail is swishing atop the covers, ears half folded. “Tsumu — I mean, I don’t like them.” Kiyoomi carefully drapes a newly ironed white button down and black slacks over his arm before he walks back over to Atsumu.

“You only need to wear them for a couple of hours if you want to come with me,” Kiyoomi tells him. Atsumu squirms on the bed, lips drawing down into a pout. 

“But they’re uncomfortable to Tsumu.” Atsumu wrinkles his nose, and Kiyoomi isn’t certain if it’s because of the prospect of putting on formal clothing, or forgetting to not speak in third person. Learning how to speak properly is probably the hardest thing yet for Atsumu. He gets frustrated quickly, brow furrowing and ears flattening against his skull when he butchers pronunciations and fumbles over his words. Kiyoomi’s stopped reminding him that referring to himself in third person isn’t proper Japanese, or grammar, for that matter.

“I know,” Kiyoomi says gently.  He lays the clothes out neatly on the mattress and ruffles Atsumu’s hair. “But as soon as I finish, we can come back up here and you can curl up in the blankets again.” Atsumu pouts, staring up at Kiyoomi with wide eyes.

“Can’t Tsu- I wear this?” Atsumu whines, tucking his nose beneath the collar of the hoodie, tugging the hood over his head. He looks adorable; Kiyoomi almost gives in.

“No, Tsumu,” Kiyoomi flicks Atsumu on the forehead gently. Atsumu’s nose scrunches up, lips still turned down into a pout, but when Kiyoomi doesn’t budge, Atsumu sighs, clambering to his feet. Kiyoomi politely turns around, heading back to his closet to find clothes for himself. 

He hears the soft thud as sweatpants and a hoodie hit the floor, and the disgruntled noises as Atsumu pulls on the clothes. Kiyoomi only turns from gathering a lightweight black suit jacket from the closet when he hears Atsumu call for him softly.

“Omi, help.” Atsumu’s standing there with the button down open, hands held out helplessly. Kiyoomi huffs out a quiet laugh and reaches out to button up the shirt, hands drawing back when Atsumu shivers as Kiyoomi’s fingers brush against bare skin.

“Are you sure you’re okay with me doing this?” Kiyoomi asks, and Atsumu hesitates for a few moments before he replies.

“Tsumu… I trust Omi.” Atsumu says softly. Kiyoomi smiles gently before he finishes buttoning up the dress shirt, neatening the collar of the shirt, gesturing to Atsumu to tuck the ends of the shirt into his black slacks.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay here? It’ll be a lot more quiet, and you’ll probably be more comfortable.” Kiyoomi asks as Atsumu frowns, tugging at the collar and sleeves.

“But what if someone finds Tsum… me?” Atsumu frowns. Kiyoomi knows that no one is allowed upstairs — their security is too tight for anyone to get past the guards at the stairs and elevator — but if there’s anything that Kiyoomi’s learned, it’s that he can’t try to convince Atsumu with words alone that everything will be okay.

“It’s up to you, Atsumu.” Kiyoomi says, and Atsumu looks torn. He hops off of the bed and hurries over to Kiyoomi’s closet. Kiyoomi follows, somewhat confused until Atsumu pulls back with his old collar and leash in his hands. Kiyoomi stops in his tracks. “Atsumu… Are you sure?” Atsumu nods, though his tail curls around his thigh.

“I will be safer with Omi-Omi.” Atsumu confirms, though his hands tremble as he slips the collar back on. “Tsu- I trust Omi.” He looks up, eyes strangely vulnerable, and a cold trickle of unease slides down Kiyoomi’s spine. It’s almost as if Atsumu’s turned into an entirely new person. Atsumu grimaces, shoulders curling in on himself as he clips the leash on and holds it out for Kiyoomi.

“Are you sure, Atsumu?” Kiyoomi asks, frowning. Atsumu nods, before he points to the door.

“Tsumu’s ready.” Kiyoomi sighs, and loops the long length of the leash around his wrist twice. He slips the straps of a new black mask over his ears, before he looks back at Atsumu. Atsumu nods, and they make their way down the hall.

“Stop apologizing,” Kiyoomi chastises, as Atsumu mumbles a soft sorry for what must be the tenth time in the past minute. The courtyard is bustling with multiple different people, and it stings a little to see Atsumu flinching back when someone brushes up against them, or growling when someone stares.

“So-” Atsumu clamps his mouth down on the word, twitching violently as someone pushes past them. “Omi, there’s so many people.”

“There is,” Kiyoomi offers a gloved hand and Atsumu slides his own into it without hesitation. “We can head to where the food is to get something for you. There’s only a few people I need to talk to, and then we can go back upstairs.” Atsumu visibly lights up at the mention of food, and the promise of being able to curl back up on a comfortable mattress soon.

A few people stop Kiyoomi as they pass through, some want to ask a few questions about their businesses, and others ask about Atsumu. Kiyoomi remains polite, although there are some comments and questions that make rage simmer beneath his skin. Atsumu, through it all, remains oddly silent. Kiyoomi’s glad that the majority of the people who wanted to talk to him were people he’d been told to seek out by his parents.

“Omi?” Atsumu tugs at Kiyoomi’s sleeve. “Do you think they’re happy?” Atsumu nods towards a calico pet, dressed in an expensive looking designer black and diamond studded dress, a collar around her neck that’s quite literally chained to her master’s wrist.

“I don’t know, Atsumu,” Kiyoomi replies honestly, following Atsumu’s gaze. The length of the leather leash wrapped around his wrist feels like it’s burning into his skin. “I hope that they are.” Atsumu nods, his head tilting to the side to rest briefly on Kiyoomi’s shoulder.

“Tsumu’s lucky to have someone like Omi,” Atsumu muses. Kiyoomi feels a strange warmth bubble up inside of his chest, spreading to his cheeks. He’s glad that the mask conceals most of it.

“You can thank Ayame for all of this,” Kiyoomi coughs awkwardly, leading them across the courtyard, towards the smell of grilling meat and gourmet food. He hears a couple of murmured comments and catches some not so subtle stares aimed at Atsumu. Atsumu seems to be aware of them, shoulders curled in, tail tucked between his legs and ears flat against his skull.

When they reach the buffet table, Atsumu’s eyes do a quick sweep of the table before they flicker up to Kiyoomi.

“Safe?” Atsumu asks, voice low.

“They should be,” Kiyoomi confirms, reaching for a plate. “Do you want to get your own plate, or do you want me to do it?”

“Isn’t Omi hungry?” Atsumu tilts his head, ears pricked up curiously. Kiyoomi shakes his head.

“I’ll eat later,” Kiyoomi replies, and Atsumu nods, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Atsumu points to the foods that he wants, and Kiyoomi carefully arranges it on the plate. Kiyoomi takes a pair of disposable chopsticks and a fork before he follows Atsumu to a rather secluded and quiet section of the yard.

“Thank you, Omi!” Atsumu beams as Kiyoomi gives him the plate. All of Atsumu’s previous worries about the strangers surrounding them seem to disappear the moment he digs into the food.

“Is that Kiyoomi-kun I see?” Kiyoomi tenses as he hears the familiar voice, turning around, teeth gritting.

“Iizuna,” Kiyoomi tilts his head, watching as his ex partner approaches. “How’s work been?” Iizuna’s faux smile slips, and there’s a slight twitch to his right eye. To Kiyoomi’s side, Atsumu seems blissfully unaware of the rising tension in the air.

“It’s been fine,” Iizuna replies, shoulders rigid as he regards Kiyoomi with a cold stare. He still doesn’t seem to be over Kiyoomi breaking up with him and firing him from his assistant position a few months ago — even though he had proved to be a traitor to the company. To be quite frank, Kiyoomi couldn’t care less. When Iizuna’s eyes flicker to Atsumu, the sudden interest that sparks in them makes Kiyoomi feel sick to his stomach.

“Who do we have here?” Iizuna’s voice takes on an almost sultry tone. Atsumu, who’s just shoved a forkful of steak into his mouth glances up, ears twitching as he stares up at Iizuna with a small frown. Atsumu’s eyes flicker up to Kiyoomi before he shuffles uncomfortably on the bench, carefully setting aside his nearly empty plate of food to stand up. Kiyoomi shifts just enough for the leash coiled around his wrist to flash into Iizuna’s line of sight.

“Atsumu, this is Iizuna.” Kiyoomi says, shifting closer to Atsumu almost protectively as the fox’s tail curls around an ankle. Atsumu seems to relax as Kiyoomi’s arm brushes against his.

“Hi,” Atsumu mumbles.

“You’re a pretty little thing,” Iizuna hums. Atsumu’s eyes flicker up to Kiyoomi, as if searching for permission to reply.

“Iizuna,” Kiyoomi’s voice comes out sharp, with a warning edge to it. At the grin that crosses Iizuna’s face, Kiyoomi feels a tug on the back of his jacket. He can feel Atsumu shaking next to him. “I need to find Akaashi-san to talk about a business arrangement.” With that, Kiyoomi walks past Iizuna, Atsumu clinging close.

As soon as they’re out of sight and have found a quiet place, Kiyoomi turns to look at Atsumu. The fox looks almost identical to the way he first looked when Kiyoomi had brought him to the mansion; withdrawn and skittish.

“Atsumu, are you okay? Do you want to leave?” Kiyoomi asks, low and gentle as he tugs his mask down beneath his chin. Atsumu squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head.

“Tsumu’s okay,” Atsumu mumbles, head dropping to press against Kiyoomi’s shoulder. Kiyoomi sighs, gently scratching at the base of Atsumu’s ears.

“You sure? I only need to meet with one other person, and as they’re a close friend of mine, I’m sure he’s fine if we meet some other day.” Kiyoomi finds his tense muscles relaxing as Atsumu nuzzles his shoulder, fox ears twitching against the underside of his jaw.

“Then Tsumu wants to go.”

“Are you still hungry? I can ask Izumi to bring up some food,” Kiyoomi offers. He feels Atsumu shake his head. “I’m sorry about that Atsumu, I didn’t think he would be that callous.”

“Tsumu feels safe with Omi,” Atsumu replies, tilting his head up to stare at Kiyoomi. Kiyoomi forgets to remind Atsumu to stop speaking in third person, and instead brushes a thumb against his cheekbone. Atsumu leans into the touch, a tiny smile curling at his lips. Kiyoomi finds his eyes roaming over Atsumu’s features, and before he can say anything else, Atsumu reaches up to tap him lightly on the nose. “Omi worries too much, Tsumu’s okay.” Atsumu promises, before he reaches up with both hands to tug Kiyoomi’s mask back over his mouth and nose.

A soft huff of amusement leaves Kiyoomi’s lips, and he shakes his head, letting Atsumu lace their fingers together loosely.

“Let’s head back, then.” Kiyoomi winds his way through the courtyard, dipping his head politely at people who greet him, making his way into the mansion, Atsumu close behind. The security guards let him through, and as soon as they’re back in the quiet of Kiyoomi’s bedroom, Atsumu flops down onto the mattress with a content sound, tail swishing happily.

Kiyoomi takes off his suit jacket and hangs it up for the maids to take, shooting a quick apology message to Akaashi. When he looks up, Atsumu’s curled up on the bed, staring at Kiyoomi with sleepy eyes.

“If you’re tired, you should sleep,” Kiyoomi suggests, pocketing his phone to walk up to the side of the bed, threading his gloved fingers through Atsumu’s hair. Atsumu sighs softly, leaning up into the touch.

“Okay,” Atsumu gets to his feet, and Kiyoomi gestures to his neck. Atsumu tilts his head up so Kiyoomi can undo the collar, letting it drop to the floor. Kiyoomi carefully brushes a hand against the irritated skin, and feels Atsumu swallow nervously. Before Kiyoomi can say anything else, Atsumu’s pressed a swift kiss to the corner of his lips and darted off into the guestroom. Kiyoomi stands there, stunned. He reaches up with a hand to touch the spot Atsumu pressed his lips to, the soft warmth still lingering. For some reason, his skin doesn’t crawl, and for what must be the first time in forever, Kiyoomi yearns to feel that warmth again.

Atsumu feels mortified. He sinks down in the bathtub until his nose is beneath the surface. He can’t believe that he just kissed Omi. Well. It wasn’t a proper kiss, but it was a kiss nonetheless. He didn’t even wait to see what Omi would’ve said — he fled like a coward with his tail between his legs.

These are foreign feelings to Atsumu; the fluttering in his stomach and chest whenever Omi smiles at him and the warmth and comfort that fills his body whenever Omi brushes fingers through his hair. He’s never felt them before. Or maybe he has, and it’s just been so long since he’s felt genuine happiness that he’s forgotten what it feels like.

Atsumu heaves out a soft sigh, blowing bubbles in the water’s surface, before he climbs out. He avoids looking in the mirror, knowing that no matter how quickly his species may heal, some scars still remain. Atsumu dries off, and dresses in the warm and comfortable clothes again, inhaling Omi’s scent. He drains the bath, and shuffles out of the room.

He can hear Omi talking to someone in his bedroom, so Atsumu decides to stay in his room.

It’s definitely not because he embarrassed himself earlier. No, not at all.

Atsumu doesn’t know how long he spends moping in his room. All he knows is that when the sky turns dark, apprehension begins to take hold of him. Atsumu has been sleeping well whenever he’s close to Omi. He hasn’t had nightmares in the past few weeks, and if he can’t gather the courage to go see if Omi will let him sleep next to him, Atsumu doesn’t know what he’ll do.

So he gets to his feet, and scampers up to the door leading to Omi’s room, poking his head through the open frame. Omi’s sitting on his bed, beneath the covers, with a book in his hands. It’s not fair how pretty Omi looks, especially without the mask.

Atsumu doesn’t realize that he’s drumming his fingers against the wall anxiously until Omi looks up, and a small smile crosses his face when he sees Atsumu. Atsumu’s ears twitch, and he fights the urge to jerk his head back and dive beneath his own covers. Instead, he offers Omi a shy smile.

“Omi?”

“Yes?” Curse Omi and his pretty face and his pretty voice.

“Can Tsu- I come over?” Atsumu asks, already bracing himself for rejection. His tail is tucked between his legs, ears slightly furled, and he bites the inside of his cheek as he waits.

“Of course. Why would I say no?” Atsumu shuffles on his feet. He can hear the confusion in Omi’s voice.

“Well, because I kissed Omi,” Atsumu explains, feeling his ears flatten against his skull. The guilt is back. “Omi said that he was…” What was the word again? “He doesn’t like stuff like that unless he has an emotional bond.”

“Do you think that we don’t have a bond?” Omi’s voice is soft, and Atsumu instinctively straightens up, hoping that he hasn’t disappointed his Omi.

“I think that we have one,” Atsumu starts, reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck. “But Tsumu- I mean, I…” He trails off, frustrated. He doesn’t know what else to say.

When Omi scoots over to make space on the bed, Atsumu feels himself light up. Omi nods, and that’s all it takes for Atsumu to bound across the room and pounce, landing half on top of Omi, who grunts softly.

“I’m not mad or upset, Atsumu,” Omi says after a few moments of silence after they’ve settled down. 

“No?” Atsumu blinks, staring at Omi intensely as his eyes scan the page of the book he’s reading. Much to Atsumu’s frustration, Omi doesn’t reply until he’s finished reading the chapter.

“In fact, I think it was cute.”

Oh.

Atsumu feels his cheeks heat up, so he turns his face to hide it into a pillow. The low chuckle he hears from Omi starts the same fluttery feeling in his chest. When he feels fingers run through his hair, he sighs and relaxes into the touch. He can barely suppress the shiver when he feels a thumb brush over his fox ears.

“Omi?” Omi hums in response. “Can I get closer?” Atsumu peeks up at him, and Omi’s looking back at him with a soft expression — one that Atsumu can’t read.

“Yeah,” Omi says softly. There’s a click, and the lights overhead turn off, the only light coming from the lamp behind Omi. Atsumu briefly thinks that Omi looks a bit like an angel. When he inches closer, Omi lets him. Even when they’re practically pressed up against each other, Omi doesn’t say anything. He even feels Omi rest his chin atop his head, and he can’t help his fox ears from twitching happily.

For once in his life, Atsumu finds himself craving someone’s touch.

“Tell Tsumu to stop whenever,” Atsumu finds himself blurting. He nearly jumps when a gentle arm wraps itself around his waist, head jerking back in surprise.

“Too much?” Omi asks, and Atsumu shakes his head violently, relaxing back into Omi’s arms, tucking his head into the crook of Omi’s shoulder. Omi’s been nothing but kind and thoughtful to Atsumu, and maybe he’s foolish for falling for someone who can easily turn on him in the blink of an eye, and has the power to do so.

But when Atsumu loves, he loves with everything that he has.

“Omi?”

“Yes?”

Atsumu shuffles to lean up on an elbow, eyes tracing over Omi’s pretty features. He likes the two moles the most. He reaches out to touch them, finger tracing over Omi’s face. Omi doesn’t flinch.

“Can I…” Atsumu hesitates, his eyes flickering down to Omi’s lips. He blushes when those lips quirk up into a small smirk, a finger carefully tilting up his chin.

“Can you what?” Omi asks, and Atsumu’s certain that he’s teasing. Atsumu huffs in response, puffing his cheeks out in a pout.

“Omi,” Atsumu whines. Omi chuckles, before cupping the side of Atsumu’s face, tugging him down. Atsumu feels his heart pound rapidly in his chest as Omi presses their lips together in a gentle kiss. He melts into Omi, hands resting helplessly on Omi’s chest, tail curling around their legs. When they part, Atsumu feels like he’s glowing.

Later, Atsumu’s laying on his side with his back tucked close to Omi’s chest, their fingers threaded together and resting against Atsumu’s stomach. When Atsumu tilts his head back to nuzzle Omi, he’s gifted with a soft peck to the nose and lips. It’s warm and soft, and it fills Atsumu with happiness. 

There aren’t too many words Atsumu can think of to describe this moment. But if there’s one thing that Atsumu knows for sure, it feels like coming home.

tbc.