The Tokyo Kitty Shop~

Give Me Your Loyalty~

~ O Lord, open thou my lips; and my mouth shall shew forth thy praise.~ Psalms 51:15

This took awhile didn't it.... yikes.

P.S. There is a very brief panic attack on Izana's part, I didn't put a lot of details to leave a warning— but if you guys want me too, I will!

EDIT OF 2024: I lowkey hated this chapter, I still do

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【Ｋｕｒｏｋａｗａ　Ｉｚａｎａ】

(Y/N) watched flabbergasted and maybe a little scared as Naoto hissed, wiping the wounds on his arms clean of the blood and saliva from with an acholic wipe.

"He still got to you even with the gloves on?" She asked in hushed horror, grimacing at the blood still dripping from his forearms. He nodded wordlessly. "Shouldn't he be okay with you by now?"

Naoto shook his head, "No, it's different for any animal, besides, he's only been addressed here for a week," he sighs as he tosses to wipe aside and wraps his arm. "And for his situation, his hate for humans is understandable concerning where he came from."

(Y/N) frowned from where she was sitting, sighing heavily through nose, seeing her delimma— Takemichi quietly yowled out a concerned purr and pawed at her pant leg, even sitting on his hind legs and stretching out to reach her knee.

"Aww," she uttered, reaching down to pick him up and place him in her lap, scratching idly between his ears and rubbing his head, smiling as he purred deeper and relaxed into her hand. He was such a emotional support buddy. She watched as Hinata jumped on Naoto's lap, rubbing her chin on his bandaged arm. "I guess you're right, I wouldn't trust humans either if that happened to me..."

【． ． ． ． ． ． ． ． ． ． ． ．】
One Week Earlier~

(Y/N) walked gleefully outside of the building, a tune playing on her lips as she jumped past the last step with a wave over her shoulder to her co workers, hearing their tired goodbyes.

But as soon as she turned the corner to the more baren part of parking lot and away from prying eyes, she never dropped that smile so fast as she twisted her guitar from her back and screamed quietly into the case, wanting to bang her head against the brick wall next her to end her suffering.

Today was so frustrating on the account of three reasons:

One; she decided to be stupid and play with her sleeping schedule by estimating how many hours she was going to sleep if she watched one more episode of her favorite show. It ended up being 2:45 in the morning and she had to work at four.

Two; the wicked manager. The wicked woman thought it would be a good idea to let her kid snoop around the building and end up in her locker, nearly breaking her prized guitar with the excuse that the little monster wanted to play with it (She wanted to punt the kid into the stratosphere and deck the mother to the atlanic ocean).

And Three; the my-daddy-rich-so-I-can-do-what-I-want teenagers. Those nasty, spoiled, little brats would not stop messing with her or her musical equipment while she was teaching her class, thinking they owned the place because they thought they were all that and a bag of chips. She was ready to pop those idiots' behinds for respect and spite alone.