Chapter Text
"What do you think of that one?"
"Not bad."
"Or the one in the back? With the brown hair?"
"Hmm."
"You could at least pretend to be interested," Satoru complains without taking his eyes off the window.
Suguru rolls his eyes. "Just be glad I agreed to come with you." From his exasperated tone Satoru knows without even turning around that he has his arms crossed over his chest and a grimace plastered on his usually deceptively serene face. Well, what's a friend if not someone to drag around everywhere you go?
Resuming his observation, Satoru lets his eyes dart from human to human occupying the other side of the window. About a dozen, almost as many males as females, of varying ages but all dressed in the same white outfit consisting of simple pants and a loose shirt. Some are lying lazily, others are leafing through books with only drawings scattered all over the floor, and a small group seems to be playing tag despite the limited space their sterile enclosure offers them. Satoru follows a rather young human tripping over a pile of toys and sprawling out, to which his peers laugh heartily. What a clumsy species, really.
"Which one do you think Megumi could tolerate?" Satoru asks once bored of this assortment of humans. He walks to the next enclosure without a glance at the catalogue laid out in front, available for customers to enquire about the age, race, weight and other informations of the humans on display. Satoru thinks this might bias his opinion—nothing's better than a first impression—which isn't the case for Suguru, who grabs the catalog and begins flipping through it mindlessly as soon as they approach the next window.
"Why is he asking you to buy him a pet if he can only tolerate it?"
"First of all, it's 'adopt', not 'buy,' this place is ethical." Kinda. Probably. He still has to pay adoption fees though. "Secondly, he didn't ask me for anything, he doesn't even know he's going to become the proud owner of a human."
Confused, Suguru frowns, the lighter scales on his face gleaming under the artificial light of the pet store. "I'm not following," he says, slithering around Satoru, catalog in hand, surely to compare the information provided to the real thing. Still on the logistics of things this one, Satoru has half a mind to squish his tail to try and dislodge the broom stuck somewhere in his sinuous body. If it weren't for the two arms protruding from Suguru's tors—the wonders of evolution—he would never have thought there actually is a spine beneath those jet-black scales.
Every now and then, Satoru is tempted to pull up the garment that serves as his pants (he stopped calling it a skirt after six years of friendship, although he occasionally falls back into old habits) and dig his claws into the flesh to feel the hardness of a vertebra beneath his paw.
There is a reason why Carnivores Counseling is recommended from a very young age.
"You see, I thought his scowl would diminish as he grew older," Satoru explains thoughtfully, in turn folding his arms across his chest. The polyester of his shirt makes the white fur on his torso stand up unpleasantly, which in turn makes him feel as if he's puffing out his chest for no reason. Ugh, that's the last time he lets Shoko go shopping for him, she just buys the cheapest stuff she can find even though it's Satoru's black card she's using. Ridiculous, but what can you expect from a weasel. "Except that years later it's even worse! The school calls every day to say he's had a fight with this or that animal. Honestly, I don't even bother to answer anymore. Aren't dogs supposed to be friendly? Look at Tsumiki, she's an angel!"
"Tsumiki's a husky," Suguru points out. Smartass. He'd hiss at him if they weren't in public.
"So is Megumi! At least half of him! The problem is that I never hear of that half, only of the other Big Bad Wolf half that bites and growls at people." Even in death Fushiguro Toji manages to be a thorn in Satoru's side. The Zenins have always been proud as peacocks of their pure grey wolf lineage, which he's always found laughable because at the end of the day a dog is a dog; it doesn't interest or impress anyone whether there's fox or coyote or any breed of dog in the mix. Guess shit temper is hereditary.
"I thought you didn't care about how they behave outside of the appartement."
"I don't! What I do care about is my reputation. I can already hear the whispers of as expected of an interspecies household and maybe there is something Gojo Satoru is not good at and cats raising dogs to be as annoying as them."
"The whispers kinda have a point."
This time Satoru does hiss, albeit quietly. "The whispers can go to hell, I am perfect in every way and I will not let one grumpy mutt dirty my name because he can't behave himself." Megumi can play the lone wolf all he wants as long as he doesn't drag Satoru's name in the mud while doing so.
"Dramatic much?"
"Drama was named after me."
"Right. So... How is a pet going to change the pup's bad temper?"
Here comes his genius plan. "He needs to socialize. Seeing as animals are too hard for him, we need to start small. Easy. Humans first then real people next." Suguru says nothing for a moment, clearly skeptical. "You're not convinced," Satoru concludes.
"I don't know, humans are a life-long commitment. They require too much care and time for a fourteen years old wolfdog to have one." Mmmh, Suguru has a point. A point that Satoru has anticipated and thought about how to counter.
"That's where Tsumiki comes in." Cards on the table.
"She's only two years older than him, Satoru."
"Exactly! And yet they have nothing in common! Megumi's such a brat with her. With everyone, actually. Can you believe he barked at her the other day? Having a human might strengthen their bond, soften him a bit."
As Suguru prepares to respond with another argument against adoption, the words get stuck in the back of his throat as his forked tongue comes out to sniff the air. Satoru's long whiskers twitch at the same time as the telltale clatter of hooves on the tiles reaches his ears.
"Can I help you?" a woman in her forties asks them. Petite, barely reaching Satoru's shoulders, with the white fur and short horns of any mountain goat. It's obvious from her slightly trembling legs that she thinks she's dealing with two large carnivores arguing in her shop, and Satoru is tempted to see how far she can maintain her professional composure before her instincts take over and send her running far, far away from her natural predator, but then again, there's been enough damage to his reputation in the last few months. No need to add herbivore bully too.
Suguru is faster than him, though. "Just who we needed," he says with a closed-eye, closed-mouth smile to hide his vertical pupils and fangs, even though they're retractable. The two young men behind the woman still look away. "My friend here is looking to adopt a human for a young wolfdog. Perhaps you could help us find the perfect companion?" Such a saccharine voice for a mouth full of venom.
As usual, Satoru lets the viper do the talking when it comes to herbivores while he refocuses on the small humans. All the pens in the pet store are roughly the same size, but the number of humans inside varies from one to the next. Perhaps they're grouped according to criteria besides age? They all look the same to him though, little worms wriggling on the floor, waiting for an animal to choose them to spend the rest of their lives with.
Satoru doesn't really get the appeal of chaining oneself to an inferior species that lives far too long for its own good. Sure, they're somewhat cute if you like fur-less, fang-less, claw-less, horn-less, shell-less, scale-less—the list is never-ending, just what do they have? It's a miracle they survive on their own in nature reserves.
Gosh, he's starting to have doubts. Is it really a good idea to force a kid like Megumi to take care of something as dependent as a human?
In captivity, they can live up to a hundred years. Megumi will have to grow up with it, age with it, through adulthood and even old age if he doesn't decide to euthanize it once he's too old or too sick to care for it, as is often the case. Some train their humans to be the ones to care for their owners, and while the idea is clever in theory, practice shows that a human with too much autonomy is a disobedient one. Disobedience leads to danger, which in turn leads to the owner having to put down their pet. Which is a shame, honestly, especially considering the money they cost to maintain.
Weighing the pros and cons, Satoru only notices the human approaching the window when it presses its nose against the glass, visibly curious to see so many people on the other side. Satoru tilts his head at the newcomer, whom the human mirrors, a wide grin on its hairless face. Huh. His long, bushy tail sways slowly from side to side as his interest is piqued. Cats are curious, after all. He crouches down to its eye level, the fabric of his pants stretching to accommodate his muscles, and forces himself as best he can not to grin as the human's eyes widen comically at the sight of his paws so close.
No one dares admit it, but Satoru gives the best head pats with his big, fluffy snow leopard paws. The human places its two ridiculously small hands on the window and then looks at Satoru with big brown eyes, waiting for him to do the same.
Satoru places a paw on the glass without even thinking. What the hell. This one's kind of cute if he forgets that there's nothing but fragile skin under his thin clothes and that today both his breakfast and lunch consisted of human meat. Raised in the open air, that is! Not one of those farms selling cheap meat from humans who have never seen the color of the sky and end up sold three days past their expiration date in a cold aisle of a major supermarket chain.
Above him, Suguru is still chatting with the goat flocked with part-time students.
"—advisable to get one young enough to be able to train it easily, although it requires a lot of time. You see, despite their ability to learn many things, their brain development is quite slow." She seems to be reciting a text learned years ago, to which Suguru only nods patiently.
"If I wanted a cub, I obviously wouldn't be in the teen section," Satoru points out. Suguru discreetly pinches his ear. "Now, don't be rude, what she says is interesting. And small humans are called babies, Satoru."
"Whatever." The human seems to have grown tired of his paw and is now interested in the ear Suguru just pinched. He—because that's obviously a male—lets out a gasp that Satoru can't hear through the thick glass when he flicks one of them, the movement quick as if swatting away a fly.
My, my, how cute, how silly. Well, if Megumi doesn't know how to take care of it properly it could still make a nice dinner for a family of three, or more if they decide to invite a few carnivores for the occasion. Humans have nothing but the flesh on their bones of value, and are a pain to breed due to their vulnerability to inbreeding, which increases the likelihood of errors in their genetic code or chromosome number. However, occasionally their hair commands a decent price if it's a particular color or texture, or if it exceeds a certain length.
Eyeing the pink tuft adorning the human's head on the other side of the window, Satoru finally has a candidate in mind.
"How old is this one?" he asks, disregarding the conversation already underway between Suguru and the lady, which Suguru obviously lets him know with a light slap of his scaly tail against his much softer one. Bleh. What's the point of pretending to be all nice, all polite if deep down you have nothing but contempt for herbivores? Satoru's no hypocrite, though he doesn't share Suguru's disdain for every animal who, in his eyes, is responsible for the treatment of carnivores in today's society.
If you ask him, Suguru did this to himself. He hates far too easily. In this world, there are people like Satoru who smile with all their sharp teeth even though it makes herbivores tremble with fear, people like Suguru who smile with their mouths closed to avoid creating distress but who burns with humiliation at having to do so, and then there are people like Shoko who simply don't smile. Perhaps laziness and indifference are the answer to everything.
"Oh!" the woman exclaims, "I think you'll like this one. He's fourteen, almost fifteen, but he's sturdy for his age." Megumi's age, nice. Once again, her polished hooves click against the floor as she positions herself in front of the window, her arm extended toward the human like a salesman presenting a car.
"Very playful, very cuddly, affectionate, gets on well with children, a fast learner although sometimes needs repeating. He tires less quickly than the average human which makes him the perfect playmate for an animal with high stamina." He seems to have understood that they're talking about him because his gaze switches from Satoru still crouching in front of him to Suguru standing behind. The gleam in his eyes looks undeniably like hope.
"Megumi's more of a shut-in person," Suguru says. Which is fair. However.
"That's the whole point of getting him a human, to make him less shut-in."
"Maybe he'll hate it and let Tsumiki do all the walks and baths."
"Stop being such a killjoy. Humans are animals' best friends." Or so they say. "Best case scenario he loves his shiny new pet and starts making friends like the dog he's supposed to be. Worst case scenario he eats it." When you choose the wrong dialogue in a choice-based game there's often, if not always, a little icon that pops up to inform you that you've lost affinity or that your choice will have consequences. Well. Even if Satoru were a mere jellyfish floating in the depths of the ocean without sense or conscience whatsoever, he'd still see live and in stereo the atmosphere go from awkward exchange between customers and workers to deathly silence following an inappropriate remark.
Oopsie?
"It was a joke," Suguru tries to salvage his slip of tongue even though deep down they both know that Satoru doesn't give a damn if he's spoilt the mood by reminding them that yes, his canines aren't there for decoration and that, surprise, oh surprise, carnivores eat meat. "Obviously not meant."
"Oh, I meant it alri—"
"Satoru," Suguru hiss, tongue escaping his mouth like an angry red whip. Satoru looks up, bad idea the lights on the ceiling almost blind his sensitive eyes, and rises from his crouch. The human flinches at the sudden movement but he pays him no attention since, at a quick glance, he can see that Suguru is displaying his Behave Correctly In Modern Society smile, which he only reserves for when Satoru's fooling around too much. There is only so much venom antidote he can get injected in a year, so he takes it upon himself to look as apologetic as possible in front of the three pet shop employees.
Obviously it doesn't last long, because if Satoru had expected the tense, offended expression of the goat and the herbivorous student, a young albino deer, the face of the second student catches him off guard. It's a young raptor no more than twenty years old if its clipped wings are anything to go by—flying license is only allowed to birds older than twenty-three—and whose creamy beige and brown plumage as well as heart-shaped face clearly show that this is a barn owl. A bird of prey.
A carnivore staring at Satoru as if he'd gobbled up his siblings' eggs right under his beak. Satoru wrinkles his snout, whiskers twitching. They're all in the same boat, so why—oh.
"Oh, you're one of those," he scrapes his rough tongue against the roof of his mouth, pupils focusing on the owl, and can't help the mocking smile forming on his lips as he squirms uncomfortably in the presence of a superior carnivore. "Suguru, what's the name again?"
"I'm a vegetarian." Spoken through the beak of a carnivore. Rest in peace Victor Hugo, you would have loved this living oxymoron.
Satoru snorts. "Right, vegetarian. Well, you're missing out, birdy." The funny thing about barn owls is that they can't move their eyes, which means the student has to move his entire head toward Satoru to challenge him with a stare. Such courage. Especially when faced with an animal twice his size. "No, I don't think I am," he says, puffing out his feathers.
Amused, Satoru swings his tail in a wide arc that makes the deer gasp in fear. "Let me guess, you think it's barbaric and cruel to consume such intelligent, sentient creatures." The words of this morning's anti-slaughter and farm abolition protest, not his. That's all there's been on the news lately, that and the carnivore attacks on herbivores. Adult television is so boring, really.
"Yes! Yes, I do! They feel too much for us to simply treat them as food!" His filed talons clatter loudly against the tiles as he blazes through his speech. Is this a social studies student? They're always the loudest. "They have feelings! Emotions! They're sentient! You people are nothing but murderers."
"I'm sure the fish you ate at lunch had a mind of its own too, but that didn't stop you from enjoying your meal, did it?" His breath reeks of fish so much that Satoru can smell it even when standing several meters away from the bird. Now, the childish insults of a young raptor slide off like water off a seal's fur. Satoru is exposed to much worse daily after all—Megumi is such a brat, really—but he still has to set the record straight. With a touch of malice, of course. It's his trademark.
If this fledging wants justice for humans, then it must also apply to fish, crustaceans, insects, arthropods, worms, anything edible and alive that apparently possesses consciousness.
"In fact, if it weren't for humans, you'd be happily—"
"Okay, that's enough," Suguru interrupts. Eh, just when he was getting to the good part. Satoru tries to protest, but that too is cut off before he can even get three words in. "We'll take that one," he extends a scaly arm toward the human still glued to the glass while his peers seem to have all retreated to a corner for a collective nap.
He smiles at Suguru's gesture, happy to be the center of attention again.
When no response comes, Suguru impatiently taps his tail on the floor while waving the catalog with one hand. "I read here that he's Japanese. They're quite small, usually no taller than 1,70 meters. And he gets along with both dogs and cats, right?" He turns to the goat, an attempt to resume their earlier conversation before Satoru's big mouth ruined it.
He tells excellent jokes, what can he say? A victim of his own success.
"Y-Yes," the woman stammers. "He has a good relationship with felines, canines, and equines. Bovines impress him a little, but he's not really afraid of them." She recites her presentation once again, emphasizing the advantages and qualities of the human being she's trying to sell. However, compared to her previous performance, it's clear that this one lacks enthusiasm. The words tremble, occasionally hitting a wall, her eyes are shifty, her ears alert.
Because even though Satoru couldn't finish his sentence, everyone heard it loud and clear for what it was.
If it weren't for humans, you'd be happily munching on your deer coworker, conscience be damned.
Fed up, Satoru lets Suguru take the reins. His viper's tongue comes in handy in moments like these; he puts you at ease, skirts the subject, sugar-coats his words, encourages, pushes, and coaxes until, in the end, Satoru finds himself signing adoption forms instead of being kicked off the premises for his behavior. Scary, scary.
"We'll send one of our employees to check that your apartment is suitable for human needs, which is often the case, don't worry." The woman handling the office paperwork is no older than the goat they left in the adolescent section, a small capybara whose glasses balance precariously on her snout. "A health check-up is recommended every year, where he'll receive the appropriate vaccinations. He's microchipped and dewormed, but you mustn't forget to neuter him in a few years' time."
"Isn't he already?" Satoru asks. For the first time since they stepped paw into this cramped office, the secretary looks up from her mountains of paper. She blinks once, twice, as if to make sure those are indeed a snow leopard and a black viper sitting on her fragile plastic chairs, before lowering them again, unbothered.
"It is recommended that they be neutered once they have reached full sexual maturity. Early castration can cause complications in male humans."
"You learn something new every day."
The capybara assesses them with her gaze once more, switching from Satoru to Suguru and back again. As he prepares a scathing retort, Satoru is rude to everyone equally, no discrimination or favouritism, he is cut off for the third time in less than an hour. "Please write down your surname, first name, species and phone number," she slides yet another sheet of paper and a pen across the desk.
Satoru raises an eyebrow. "I've just done it on the four last documents."
"And I need you to do it a fifth time." Is she talking so monotonously on purpose? "You too," she says to Suguru.
He points a clawed finger at himself. "Me? Whatever for?"
"We keep the identity of adopters and whoever accompanied them during their visit to the shop in case the human is returned with signs of abuse." Uh, Satoru can sense where this is going. Suguru can too because his angular face now sports the Who Do You Think You Are smile. "And I suppose the herbivores accompanying the adopters don't have to give out their information?"
Him and his variable-geometry politeness. At least Satoru is consistent with his rudeness.
Unlike the goat and her part-timers, the secretary doesn't bat an eyelash at the obvious animosity of a venomous viper. "I've never heard of a herbivore eating their pet so, no, we don't ask them for their information." Ah. There goes his plan in case Megumi is a shit master.
She's a bit like Shoko in her apathy towards everything that concerns and doesn't concern her. Satoru kinda likes her. Suguru does not, which is why he writes down panthera uncia and vipera aspis as fast as he can and then drags him outside the office before the murder of a capybara can be added to the endless list of crimes committed by carnivores.
"Ugh, preys," Suguru spits once outside. The pet shop is bigger than you'd think from the outside, with the office they've just left near the entrance, one side for human accessories and clothes, another for food, hygiene and toys, and finally the windows of the human enclosures at the back.
"Now, now," sing-songs Satoru, heading for the clothes aisle. This is such a hassle, adopting an orphan cub would have been easier at this point. "Isn't it you who always tell me to say herbivores instead of preys? It's pejorative!"
"Shut up."
"Nah." Satoru's paws make no sound as he darts into the aisle while Suguru slides a little behind, now in a foul mood. He should take a leaf out of Shoko's I-don't-give-a-damn book; it's doing wonders.
He grabs some clothes marked "thirteen to fourteen years old" in neutral, unisex tones—the pups can play dress-up with the human as they like, Satoru doesn't care—but stops in front of some accessories he can't recognise no matter which way he tilts his head. "What's that?" he wonders aloud, the thing resting on the pads of his paw.
"I think it's a shoe," says Suguru. So he's done sulking, that's good. If there's one good thing about him, it's that he bounces back quickly despite the hatred burning inside him. He should start journaling, Carnivores Counseling says it's good to vent all the dark thoughts plaguing your mind.
The only downside is that the diary can and will be used against you in court if you end up indulging in said dark thoughts.
"Humans have fragile feet so shoes prevent their skin from coming into direct contact with the ground." It's always they're fragile, they're sensitive, they're vulnerable, isn't there a single thing about them that's robust? Even herbivores look ferocious next to them.
This is why humans will always remain at the bottom of the food chain, no matter what vegetarians and human rights activists say.
"What about this?" Satoru holds up two small cloths tied together in an L-shape.
"Gloves? But for their feet? I'm not sure."
"Are the shoes not enough?"
Suguru takes the foot gloves in his hands. He turns the fabric over and over until he finds the label, careful not to damage it with claws. "It says socks. Looks like it's to keep the feet warm. Their extremities are sensitive to the cold."
He rolls his eyes. "What's not sensitive, I wonder." He only buys clothes, hygiene products and a few cans of food on the spot, while the bed will be delivered in a fortnight, just in time for the pet shop to inspects the apartment to approve it. Satoru hesitates for a moment over the collars but ultimately decides to let Megumi choose one for himself. It's his pet after all, he can't do all the work for him.
Before leaving, they pass by the enclosures one last time to take a few photos of the human to show Shoko and Nanami over a drink. No sooner have they approached the window than, as if waiting for them, the human rushes headfirst into the glass to greet them. It's like those videos of humans waiting all day for their animal to come home from work so they could welcome them with a hug.
"He's cute, I'll give you that," Suguru admits while watching the human hopping up and down to get their attention. "He is. Megumi's gonna be happy for once."
Megumi was not happy.