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The night is still as Shoto and Momo (he’s finally graduated to saying her given name, whatever that means) stroll down during patrol.
It’s a quiet night with no villains coming out, surprisingly. They chat as they walk, though it’s mostly Momo telling him about the tea shop nearby. He’s certainly grown in his ability to small-talk in three years, so he interjects often: about his sister’s new obsession with a specific brand’s oolong, his preference for iced over hot tea, and—how Momo’s hair looks really good today.
All valid topics, he thinks, except for the last one. She turns bright red and fails at restarting the conversation for another five minutes.
Shoto thinks seeing the embarrassed look on her face is completely worth it.
He’s been smiling a lot more recently. He’s not sure why, but that and the stomach thing have become commonplace when he’s with Momo.
Suddenly, Momo stops in her tracks.
“Do you hear that?”
Shoto’s not sure, but he thinks he can hear a faint cry somewhere in one of the dark streets they’ve already passed. He nods.
“I think it’s coming from that way.”
They both lock eyes and turn around, walking softly as to not alert any villains nearby. The cry grows louder and more insistent, until they finally find the source: a tiny, injured kitten.
The animal’s white and red fur is sparse, and it warbles out a sick cough. It rolls over and reveals a wound on its left back leg.
Momo gasps, and she immediately lowers herself down to the kitten’s level. It mewls as she picks it up, and she begins gently stroking scabbed-over fur. Shoto feels mostly bad for the kitten, but he’s a tiny bit annoyed because the damn thing just interrupted an excellent conversation he was having with Momo.
Shoto leans down to watch her softly soothe the kitten anyway. He notices the patch of red fur covering the kitten’s left eye. It almost resembles Shoto’s scar. What’s even more uncanny is the kitten’s eyes: they’re heterochromic with one grey and one blue, just like his.
Now Shoto is more than a little annoyed – this damn kitten has stolen his color scheme and his Momo.
Momo notices this as well. “Look, Shoto-san! He looks just as cute as you do!” And while she turns a blazing, fiery red as soon as she says that and tilts her face away from him, he decides that this damn kitten can’t be half bad (it’s gotten Momo to call him cute, anyway). So he decides to scratch the hair behind its ears – gently.
Big mistake.
He almost can’t comprehend it because it happens so fast. The cat’s mouth gets closer, and his hand erupts in searing pain, his pinky finger throbs.
“Agh.” The sound he makes is unholy. Something between a nonchalant statement and a dying goose’s scream.
It’s enough to get Momo to gently put the kitten down and pick up his finger. She quickly creates an antiseptic bandage and puts it on, but most confusedly, she begins to laugh. She starts off quietly, giggling, but she gets louder very quickly, and Shoto’s left blinking after her.
“What’s so funny?” he asks. He’s really confused. Momo’s crying with laughter now, and she’s out of breath as she says, “Your face is so grumpy” and delves back into a laughing fit.
He sighs, but the sound of her laughter is infectious and he’s soon suppressing his own wide grin.
Shoto is quiet for a moment as her laughter quiets down, continuing to pout. Then: “What should we name it?”
“Akame, I think.”
Red-eyed. It makes sense, he supposes.
Momo continues petting Akame, and the damn thing purrs softly. Shoto swears the kitten looks up at him with a smug glance before closing its eyes again. It pisses him off.
But he supposes the cat just has good taste in people.