Chapter Text
The day had started as a normal one.
He woke up. He got ready. He went to work. It was a routine. And if the routine went as planned, as it had for the past two years, it would continue on. He’d leave work. He’d get home. He’d eat. He’d sleep. And then the cycle would begin anew.
Shinji didn’t necessarily like that system, but it was all that he really had. He hadn’t any friends, nor any real family. All he had was a useless degree and a sad studio apartment in Tokyo.
The day had been normal by his standards, but equally meaningless. It was early autumn and the leaves were just beginning to turn. Every step Shinji took came with the crackling of them under his black work shoes—not that he heard it, more that he felt it. Shinji hadn’t felt connected to the world in so long, and so he no longer tried. Instead he wore his earbuds like phylacteries against the people around him. It was better to listen to the same songs again and again than to listen to the same cruel words just the same.
So, he’d been walking. It was half-past five in the evening, and only the barest hints of the coming nightfall could be seen in the orange glow of the sky. He was almost alone on the street, as he lived rather far from downtown, but that was what he preferred. With the imminent evening and solitude came the slight bites of the wind, and Shinji had been fixing his coat just a little tighter around himself when one red earbud fell out his ear, dangling beside him as it reached for the ground.
He paused, planning to fasten it back into place and then quickly carry on, but was stopped by a surprising black blur. It came out of nowhere, he could swear, and swatted at his earbud as if it had been waiting all day for the opportunity. A startled cry fell from Shinji’s lips before he could stop himself, but he didn’t do much other than tense up—as his body seemed to think that stiffness equated to camouflage against danger.
When said 'danger' turned out to be a fluffy, black kitten, he nearly melted. It was not a warm feeling so much as a deep relief, but all the same, he took a moment before he pulled up the earbud and stared down questioningly at the furball before him.
It was a young little thing, perhaps it had just stopped weaning, and with it’s bold orange, almost red eyes, it seemed to exude confidence that Shinji couldn’t dream of having.
It was a little sad, to be honest. But maybe that’s what drew him to the little thing? The kitten never wavered, and merely stared up at him expectantly, as if he’d drop the earbud right back down for it to continue toying with.
A minute of silence passed that way, a minute long staring contest between Shinji Ikari, a twenty-four year old commuter, and the fluffiest kitten in all of Japan.
The kitten let out a small mew as Shinji cautiously brought his hands down around it and picked it up. It curled up a bit as he held it, with one hand cradling its lower body and the other hand holding its head as he might a baby. Another moment without any well-dreaded hissing or scratching, and Shinji began walking again.
It was only a small detour; it didn’t change his routine. It was safe.
---
After three weeks had passed, Shinji could assure himself that adopting a stray kitten hadn’t been a horrible mistake. It was a little different, but it was a good different.
Now when he woke up, it was to the kitten’s gentle purring as he, as Shinji had quickly learned the kitten’s sex, lounged by his ear. Now when he ate, he fixed him food too, and he meowed with every bite as if he were telling Shinji about the events of his day. Before the man would leave every day, the kitten would rub against his leg as if to say goodbye, and when he arrived home he would run right up to him, nearly yowling for attention.
It was, admittedly, so very nice to be wanted. Even by just a pet.
A name hadn’t been chosen yet, as Shinji simply couldn’t decide on the perfect one, but that was fine. When he wanted him, the kitten seemed to simply know, and listened when he whistled or snapped.
It was a blessing, really, from what Shinji knew of cats.
Furthermore, having a pet did something wonderful for his motivation. He found that it wasn’t as hard to get up in the morning when he knew someone needed him, and that it was much easier to get through days in his office cubical when he could preoccupy his thoughts with the cute things his little pet had done that morning and would no doubt do again.
His coworkers had started to notice.
The nicest of the bunch, from the cubical to the right of his, had rapped her fingers on Shinji’s cube just the other day. “You’ve been looking pretty content lately,” she had said, not unkindly. “It’s a nice change.”
Shinji had just nodded, a little surprised and a little pleased but mostly embarrassed.
Still, it was better than the reaction he’d gotten two days before that, when his supervisor had walked into the breakroom and nearly screamed, “Is Ikari smiling!?”
Fortunately, no one else had been in the room, else Shinji might have quit his job then and there.
---
The feared change took place a month after he’d gotten the kitten, when Shinji had decided that enough was enough.
With care, he sat himself cross-legged on the white carpeted floor of his apartment, and stared down at the slightly bigger black kitten that chose to bite at his fingers rather than sit correctly like a composed feline might’ve.
Shinji coughed into his hand as he took it away, successfully gaining the kitten’s attention.
“You need a name,” he began, attempting to look serious, but smiling when the furball quirked his head. “A name!” he repeated.
“…But I can’t decide on one,” he continued. Attentively, he ran a few fingers over the top of the kitten’s head, satisfied when he purred in response. “What name do you want?” he asked, knowing he wouldn’t receive an answer.
“Tabris.”
The child-like voice rang in his ears, and Shinji paused, going still. He glowered down at the kitten, who seemed to be completely at ease and completely unaware of the taboo he had committed so easily.
When Shinji took too long to respond, the kitten repeated himself.
“You can call me Tabris. That’s my name.”
Shinji still didn’t dare move, only shut his eyes and took a deep breath. Without another moment’s delay, the young man stood up and flopped onto his mattress. The room’s lights flickered off in response, and Shinji tried not to scream into his pillow.