Work Text:
Oga, as a brown tabby cat, is sequestered away atop a well hidden platform built into one of the floor to ceiling pillars. From such a position he has a full view of both the foyer and the street through the giant windows and convenient access to fake vents shafts built with shift doors that allowed one to simply pass through in either direction.
With hearing as sharp as his, and many knowing he’s currently employed by this particular woman, it’s a wonder that any assassins had made attempts on her life at all. It had only been a handful but there was one right now, creeping up the shafts he spends so much time creeping about in himself. He hears their claws schnicking on the metal, non-retractable, a dog type at least. There’s no creaking, no swish of fur against the sides of the shaft and no untimely thumps.
They have a small shift and they have the audacity to attempt to sneak past him?
No, they’ve stopped near by. He can hear them sniffer at the air and then inch forward a little more. Positioning to attack him. His hackles raise in a terrifying imitation of a smile.
It lunges, a flash of pure white and both go flying off the height of the pillar. The floor is unforgiving stone but would be more so if he’d hit in his human form. He’ll get away from that with only light bruising where he may have otherwise broken bones. The dog, now that he can see it, is actually a fox. Pure white with soft grey eyes and sharp teeth he flashes as he rolls to his feet.
The Arctic Fox - Furuichi Takayuki. Rarest of all assassins to see on the job.
With a soft blast of air that leaves his human hair fluttering around his face, he morphs into his human shape. His body is slim, with the same white hair of his fur and a gentle, very blank, face. He’s dressed in black head to toe, kevlar pants with room to move that tuck into the tall tops of his suspiciously bulky boots — steel capped Oga doesn’t doubt —, a fitted full length t-shirt with the sleeves tucked into the ends of his glove and a sleek protective vest. On one leg he’s strapped a light grey pistol, the other a knife with a length that looks just shy of his forearm. That’s his weapon of choice.
The moon light pouring in makes what little flesh is visible glow. The man is a lovely specimen to look at.
Oga puffs into his human form too, dressed a might more casual than his combat ready interloper. Not that he wasn’t ready to fight, rather he was raring to go but his care for injuries was limited given how little it happened to him. So instead of kevlar and semi stab proof body armour he’s in dress pants and a loose shirt. Movement was his priority, and the protection of the person paying him.
‘It’d be sad to break-‘
‘Such a pretty face?’ Furuichi cuts in with a roll of his eyes and a tired sigh before he drops into a ready stance, ‘come at me and try it House Mouse.’
Oga gives his feral grin and lunges for him, weapon of choice, his hands. The edge of the knife comes within millimetres of severing a finger the instant he gets within reach. Furuichi steps deep into his reach, almost chest to chest forcing Oga back to avoid the head but aimed at his chin, off kilter, Furuichi presses the advantage by following him. Plants his boot just behind Oga’s retreating heel and over he goes. Oga throws himself into the backwards momentum to roll into a handstand and launch himself away.
He lands on his feet, adrenaline coursing through his body and runs right back in to knock out that knife. Furuichi is, as his reputation precedes, fast. Precise in his attacks and packing a heavier punch than Oga had expected from someone so slim, the force of it fuzzes his vision and forces him back.
The cocky shit has the audacity to wait for him to recover rather than finish him off. He’s making a point of making a fool of him.
Getting low, Oga takes him out at the waist in a spear tackle sure to leave heavy bruising if Furuichi made it out of this alive. He’s undecided.
Furuichi slams his knee into Oga’s ribs twice before he flips them. Straddling Oga, he throws his weight behind piercing his jugular with the tip of his very pointy knife and Oga has just enough time to grab Furuichi’s wrists.
He shakes with the strain of holding him off, grip slipping millimetre by millimetre as Furuichi lifts his hips to bare down on him.
They stay like that for a long moment, long enough that either should have been able to turn the tables yet neither had or could. The door at the end of the foyer opens abruptly and there, entering the room with their aspiring assassin, is Oga’s dumbest client.
Before he can blink Furuichi twists the blade to nick his arm, self preservation has him jerking away to protect his precious veins from splitting open but the blade drops closer to his neck. Instinct is the only thing that protects him, he stops the knife by once more grabbing Furuichi’s arm… not plural.
‘What is taki-’
A crack splits the air.
The client’s brain blows out the back of her head and her body drops to the floor with a dull thud. Above him, Furuichi isn’t even looking in her direction. His eyes are on the biggest threat in the room still, staring into his soul. He has one arm out, in his grasp his gun. The gun he silently presses into Oga’s forehead.
‘Going to keep fighting?’
‘If you keep tryin’ to stab me yes!’ Furuichi makes a face like he’s forgotten about that and eases off the pressure.
Furuichi boops him with the tip of the barrel and gets off, sheathing his knife and holstering his gun with their safety straps on as Oga gets to his feet and wonders over to the body of his former client. He whistles appreciatively at the marksmanship, not even looking and the bullet is dead center of her forehead.
‘Nice shot.’
‘You’re not getting paid now you know.’
‘Ah, fuck,’ he thinks for a moment then turns to Furuichi who is heading for the human shaped exit, ‘oi, split your commission with me.’
Furuichi laughs, it’s a nice laugh Oga thinks hurrying after him to bug him into submission, soft and genuine.
‘Why would I do that?’
‘Come on, I got a kid to feed. This stupid job was meant to do us for a couple months.’ They walk side by side into the hallway and make for the elevator.
‘A kid? The great House Mouse Oga Tatsumi? As if I’d believe that.’
‘House Cat and I do! Sort of… it ain’t mine but I gotta take care of it ’til the little shit grows up.’
Furuichi laughs at him again as they step onto the elevator and button for the ground floor.
‘Maybe you should get a part time job if you’re so desperate for money.’
‘Fuck off, where’s the fun in that?’
‘They wouldn’t hire you?’
‘…Fuckers said I was ‘too scary when I smiled at customers’, like that ain’t what you’re supposed to do.’
‘Oh? Let’s do it now, practise makes perfect.’
Furuichi turns to face him, amused smile on his lips. Oga humours him and grins his shark grin, greeting him as though he had entered a store. Instead of laughing like Oga had suspected he rests a commiserate hand on his shoulder and shakes his head.
‘Give it up, you could scare a corpse with that face.’
‘Oi!’ Oga takes a swing at him as the elevator dings and the doors slide open, Furuichi gives him a small waggle of his fingers, shifts with a puff of air and runs, ‘rude bastard. I’ll fuckin’ find you and beat your ass!’