A Cat Called Karma
a Gravitation story
by Magic Toes 11
It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fucking fair.
Ken-chan would have called it karma, penance for the pain he'd inflicted on that bubblegum-haired, Sakuma-san wannabe Shindou Shuichi. Paying for his sins, Ma-kun would have said -- but hadn't Ma-kun already paid in spades for a crime he hadn't even committed? It hadn't been their fault, but ASK paid and paid. It seemed all they did nowadays was pay, when it had been Aizawa Taki alone that had sinned, Aizawa Taki alone who deserved to pay.
Losing the record deal was one thing. He had fucked up, and it was right and fitting (when he had the chance to think it over in those precious, rare moments of sobriety) that Seguchi-san drop ASK from NG's label. Sure, it sucked that he'd managed to drag Ken-chan and Ma-kun down with him, but after a time even they'd forgiven him.
The subsequent lawsuit, well, that couldn't be helped. He'd stood there, silent and uncomfortable in his suit, and had let Ma-kun do all the talking before the judge. He'd been wise to keep his mouth shut -- had he spoken instead of Ma-kun, the band formerly known as ASK would likely have had to pay exponentially more in their breach of contract settlement than they actually had in the end. He and his former bandmates had had to sell virtually all their possessions gained in their all-too-rapid rise to stardom (Ken-chan gladly getting rid of his "excesses" in a flash of Zen realization, while Ma-kun was much more grudging, particularly when it came to selling his leather furniture).
But in the end, it was okay. The fall hurt, but each member of ASK made it out alive, if bruised and with a new respect for the rules of the showbiz road. It was the rebuilding that hurt, a slow, painful process for a band used to having everything handed to them.
And when the money ran out and the landlord refused to accept another month of promises, when the autographed photos and albums went unsold by the score on eBay, Aizawa Taki found himself on Ma-kun's doorstep. Ma-kun, bless his tainted, bleached-blond soul, didn't ask questions. In fact, a room in his too-small new apartment had already been set aside, as if Ma-kun had been expecting Taki to show up eventually, suitcase in hand and staring hard at the ground in hopes of avoiding the guitarist's eyes. Taki simply walked in, set his suitcase down, and lay claim to that empty room without a word. And Ma-kun didn't seem to mind.
But some things continued to eat at him. Like the fact that Ma-kun had managed to find work so quickly, playing backup guitar for upcoming soundtracks based on various animated series. That Ken-chan's fall from grace finally allowed him to realize the importance of his long-time girlfriend, so much that he had proposed to her and was now living in her comfortable flat on the better side of town. And it absolutely killed Taki that every time he turned on Ma-kun's television (so tiny compared to the wide-screens they each had owned in their previous lives), that pink-haired devil Shindou was smiling oh-so-genki back at him. Shindou was famous. All because he was being boned by that pulp novelist Yuki, and because Seguchi-san would do absolutely anything to ensure that hack stayed happy. Fuck.
Taki didn't turn on the television much anymore.
He'd tried to find work, of course. Even a man such as Aizawa Taki, who'd grown lazy in his rapid rise to stardom, couldn't stand to be idle for long. But, at every audition, at every turn, he found himself blacklisted among the performing community. It didn't matter whether it was a chance at vocal work (even, heaven forbid, backup vocals) with Ma-kun's troupe or a minor role in the community theatre; each audition was always ended with a damning, 'Thanks. We'll call you if we need anything.' Always polite, but always definitive. It was another of Seguchi-san's ploys to ensure he'd never perform publicly again, so long as his darling Yuki was placated.
Then, as if it weren't bad enough that Taki would be forced to sit in Ma-kun's small flat, hunting both newspaper and online advertisements, for extended periods of time, there was also the matter of Ma-kun's cat that he had to deal with. Tsuki was a fat, white ball of fluff, with icy blue eyes and a wicked set of claws that she wasn't afraid to use. Taki was convinced that Tsuki was to be his own personal demon, shredding the classifieds (and only the classifieds) before he had the chance to read the newspaper, or rubbing her body against Taki's black slacks the day before an interview.
Indeed, it seemed Tsuki did nothing but shed. It was as if she knew Taki's wardrobe was almost exclusively black (Tsuki's own master, meantime, preferred to wear white). And it was as if she knew, through some innate psychic ability embedded within all felines, that Taki was allergic to cats.
Initially, it hadn't been that big a deal. In fact, Taki hadn't even known that he was allergic to cats at first. He'd never owned a cat before (being something of a dog person, himself) and had never been forced to spend considerable time with one. But when the "head cold" he'd developed the first week after moving into Ma-kun's apartment didn't let up and instead got worse, when he'd lapse into fits of sneezes every time Tsuki stuck her fat little tail in his face while he was at Ma-kun's computer, when he was convinced he'd soon need to invest in Kleenex stock at the rate he was going, Taki knew he was in trouble.
Fuck, but it wasn't fair.
Unfortunately, Ma-kun didn't see the malice that lurked within the icy blue eyes of that white ball of fluff, didn't know the glee she took in leaving clumps of white fur across Taki's best slacks. In Ma-kun's eyes, Tsuki could do no wrong, and could hardly be the cause of his congestion and massive sinus headaches.
Taki recalled the day he'd gone into the kitchen, looking to raid the refrigerator for something edible. Ma-kun had been cooking ramen at the stove. It was all they seemed to eat anymore -- pre-packaged ramen or udon, hardly the fine things they'd been used to eating in their days of stardom. And Tsuki, that fat fucking ball of dander, was sitting atop the counter at Ma-kun's side, looking like she'd broken into the milk and gotten away with it.
Taki sneezed twice as he'd entered the kitchen, as if the mere sight of that damned cat upon the counter were enough to trigger his allergy. "Heh... Chuuh! Heh-chuhhh!"
"Are you still sick, Taki?" Ma-kun had asked sharply, with a roll of his eyes.
"I'm not sick," replied Taki, sniffling against the back of his hand. "It's that damned cat of yours."
Ma-kun turned back to the noodles boiling on the stove before him. "You're just saying that because you hate cats. Mine, in particular."
"I'm saying it because that fucking hairball makes me sneeze my head off."
"How come you never told me this before?"
Taki narrowed his eyes as he slid past Ma-kun in that impossibly small kitchen and hunted through the lower cabinets for tissues. Heck, even a napkin or paper towels would do at this point. His nose was running like mad, and he could feel another sneeze or two (or five or six, it was so hard to tell these days) waiting in the wings. "I was never allergic to cats before."
Ma-kun snorted, and stirred his ramen. "It's all in your head. Don't you dare give me your cold. I just started this job and can't afford any sick days yet."
Taki had restrained himself from snapping at Ma-kun further. Or rather, that undeniable urge to sneeze held him back, and as he found a roll of scratchy paper towels from the leftmost cabinet, he let one sneeze free, stifling the rest behind his fist. Fuck. He wasn't used to having allergies, and the constant sneezing was making his head hurt.
It was bad enough Ma-kun didn't seem to care that he was miserable nearly every moment he spent in that apartment. Taki supposed he shouldn't be so bitter -- beggars can't be choosers, after all, and where would he go if it weren't for Ma-kun? To Ken-chan's, where he could listen to him and his girlfriend going at it all day? No, that certainly wasn't an option, any more than going back to his bitter, bickering parents was an option.
Taki tried to cope as best he could, locking his door each night, spending less and less time in common areas. Even going out to old haunts when he wasn't out searching for employment. It was at the end of one of one such long day -- trekking all across Tokyo, only to be turned away at every potential opportunity, thank you Seguchi-san -- that he reached his breaking point.
It had been dark for many hours by the time Taki had managed to make it back to the apartment, and upon reaching his room, he fell forward onto the bed, burying his face against his pillow in exhaustion. He didn't even bother to turn on the light or to change out of his rumpled clothes. Yet almost immediately, that dogged tickle once again built up rapidly in his nose. Try as he might to stifle it, the fit came uncontrollably, and Taki muffled the sound of his sneezes against the comforter.
"Heh... Chuuh! EhhChuhh! Heh... Heh-chuhh! EhhHHCHUUHH!"
A muttered curse, and Taki threw on the light once more. He sneezed once more as his eyes quickly adjusted to the fresh source of brightness, and growled low in his throat. Even before he was famous, he'd slept exclusively on black silk sheets -- sheets that were now littered with mounds of white, ticklish hair. It didn't matter that he kept his door closed -- and would have, cat or no cat -- the creature had still managed to find a way into his room and shed all over the place.
He was pissed. By God, he was pissed. He could cope with that fucking cat lounging about the living room, blinking lazily at him with knowing eyes, but he would not -- would not -- put up with her invading his personal space. Especially when Tsuki's invasions packed his sinuses and caused him no end of sneezing. Snatching a couple tissues from the box beside his bed (a box that had taken up permanent residence, it seemed), he ran them harshly beneath his nose and tossed aside the covers. They would need to be washed before he could sleep on them again, and Taki was too tired to be bothered with it now.
But he wasn't too tired to stalk down the hall and pound on Ma-kun's door.
Taki fought against the tickle that was escalating once again within his nose, especially when Ma-kun sleepily opened the door, and that fucking cat slipped out through the opening. Her `master' standing in the doorway rubbing his eyes, Tsuki was as friendly as could be with Taki, purring and rubbing her face against his legs.
"Taki, do you know what time it is?" Ma-kun muttered sleepily. he was dressed in a T-shirt and sweats, his long hair rumpled across his shoulders.
"That does it, Ma-kun! If your damned cat doesn't stay out of my room, I'm going to shave it bald."
Laughing, Ma-kun picked up the cat as it idly circled his legs, scratching the devil feline behind the ears. His grin was predatory. "You do, and you'll not only find yourself out on your ass, but with a broken nose to go with it."
Taki's eyes flashed angrily. "I'm warning you, that cat had better keep its fat head away from my things, or ... or else..." He paused, fighting back the tickle that had worked its way back into his sinuses with a sudden vengeance as more and more of that shed-monster's hair floated from Ma-kun's fingertips with every scritch.
"Oh, do go on, Aizawa Taki-kun," Ma-kun challenged, his voice icy. He'd never been a pleasant person when awakened, and right now he was less than pleasant having woken up to an angry man practically beating down his bedroom door.
"Or else... heh.. heh-chuuh! Chuuh! EhhChuhh!" Taki nearly doubled over at each sneeze, snuffling against the back of his hand. And as he looked up, still sniffling, he glared at Ma-kun as if daring his former bandmate to cross him.
But the protectively angry expression had faded from Ma-kun's face. Instead, he was blinking at Taki with curiosity, maybe even a little surprise. "You really are allergic to cats, aren't you?"
"Your genius never ceases to astound me, Ma-kun. What have I been trying to tell you for the past week?" Taki attempted to fix Ma-kun with his trademark glare, but found it difficult to look menacing while breathing hard to stave off another round of sneezes.
"Aww. Poor Taki-chan." Ma-kun's demeanor reversed course almost immediately, his voice dropping to that silken tone he used to seduce the next attractive piece that came his way. It was a tone used several times on Taki himself, in past high school days, when even he and Ma-kun had been known to fool around together on occasion. In terms of sexuality ASK covered the entire spectrum -- Ken-chan was exclusively straight, Taki was exclusively gay, and Ma-kun... well, Ma-kun would fuck anything with a pulse.
"Cripes, Ma-kun, I'm not in the mood." He wasn't. The tickle that persisted in his nose -- in spite of the fact that he was already so congested he could barely breathe -- was making him beyond grouchy. If he made it through the night without wringing that furball's neck, she could count herself lucky.
"Now, now, Taki-chan. Why don't you just go back to bed? Ma-chan will be by in a few minutes to take care of you."
"Didn't I just say I didn't want -- heh... heh-CHUUH!" This time, he did double over, the force of the sudden sneeze painful. Taki groaned and put a hand over his eyes.
Ma-kun's fingers gripped his arm tightly. "Taki. Go to bed," he ordered. A second later, his concerned smile flickered into a smirk. "Or else I'll bring Tsuki with me."
"Fuck you."
But Taki did as requested, heading back to his room and tossing aside the hair-covered pillow before falling heavily back upon his bed. He couldn't decide whether to remain pissed at Ma-kun or to be glad that he'd finally made his best friend understand the truth. He grabbed a tissue from the box at the side of his bed and gave his nose a short blow while mulling it over.
Ma-kun knocked on the door a short while later and entered before Taki could give him permission, a pile of sheets clutched in his arms. Shifting the pile somewhat, he waved a hand. "You, off the bed. Meantime, take one of these." He grabbed a small white bottle off the top of the sheets and tossed towards Taki, who caught it in a fumbling hand. "On second thought, you'd better take two. You're hurting."
"Shut up, Ma-kun," Taki muttered, sliding off the bed and falling hard to the floor. He studied the bottle, and Ma-kun worked around him to make the bed with the fresh sheets. Over-the-counter antihistamines. Taki opened the bottle, shook out two horrifically pink pills, and dry-swallowed them. "Why do you have these, anyway? You don't have allergies."
"Shows how much you know. Remember when we were filming our video for 'Kyoto Beauty'?"
Taki nodded, but gently. It hurt his head to move it too much.
"Remember the smoke machine that the director insisted on using? Whatever kind of smoke they were using, I couldn't take it. It just stuffed me right up. I had to take some sort of allergy medication if I wanted to make it through the video with my sanity intact."
Taki smiled faintly, recalling the video shoot. Ma-kun had been sick, congested, and grouchy half the time, and oddly quiet, even a little spacey, for the other half. The guitarist's mood had rubbed off on everyone -- Ken-chan, who had never liked the smoke machine to begin with, fought with the director during each take. Taki, meantime, found something to criticize in each of the director's shots, and had at one point finally stalked off the set in a fit of "artistic anger." He never did figure out why Seguchi-san hadn't fired him on the spot then and there. It might have saved them all some heartache and pain in the grand scheme of things.
"Besides, before I started seeing the shrink, I was using them to help get to sleep at night," Ma-kun added, more quietly this time, avoiding Taki's questioning gaze as he neatly tucked the corners of the sheets.
"You're seeing a shrink?" Taki asked, looking up in surprise.
Ma-kun's lips twitched faintly. "Yeah, well, I had to, you know. After everything that happened. Near-death experience and all. I was having trouble sleeping."
Taki nodded, leaning his head back against the edge of the bed and closing his eyes. Leave it to Ma-kun to bring up each and every memory he didn't want to be dealing with this evening. It had been his fault that Yuki had gone after them all, after he'd raped Shindou and tried to blackmail Yuki with photographs of it all. His fault that Ma-kun had been the one to answer the studio door to a fist hurtling towards his face, the one to take the full brunt of Yuki's anger, the one who almost hadn't woken up after Yuki worked him over, with the intent to go after Ken-chan next... then Taki himself... Who knows what world of hurt Ma-kun and Ken-chan would have experienced had Taki not handed over the film to that beast...
"Hey." Taki felt a hand on his shoulder, and cracked open an eye. Ma-kun was kneeling beside him, a warm smile on his face. "Don't go getting all maudlin on me. I forgave you long ago. Maybe it's time you forgave yourself."
"Fuck, Ma-kun," Taki murmured. "What happened to us?"
Ma-kun shrugged, and slid to the floor next to him, shoulder touching shoulder. "We lost it. I got a little hurt, Ken-chan got a little distant, you got a little crazy. But you know what? For what you did to Shindou Shuichi, it was worth it."
Taki blinked, turning his head, and managed a slight grin as he met Ma-kun's eyes. "You're kidding me, right? You're the one that went and squealed to Shindou the day I broke into that novelist's house. The second they let you out of the hospital..."
Ma-kun was grinning in return. "Only because I didn't want him hurting you worse than he hurt me. Fuck, I still can't climb a full set of stairs without breaking out into a sweat."
"I could have handled Yuki Eiri," Taki returned, though offhandedly -- because he remembered how hard Yuki had laid into Ma-kun, the blood that had gouted from his lips as Yuki had crushed his ribs, the way Taki and Ken-chan were doubtful that the blond guitarist would ever wake up again.
"No. No, you couldn't have." Ma-kun touched the back of his fingertips to Taki's cheek, stroked them towards his ear. "He would have done you in worse than he did me."
Taki laughed, a dry, mirthless sound. "Fuck of a lot of faith you have in me, Ma-ku -- heh... fuck... heh-chuuuh! EhChuhhh! CHHUHH! Heh..." He managed to turn his head in time, ducking his face into his hands and sniffling hard.
Ma-kun reached up to Taki's bedstand and slid the box of tissues in front of him, smirking as his friend snatched three at once. "Come on. One more."
"Henh... fuck you, Ma-kun... heh... heh-CHUUH!" Taki finished breathlessly, and proceeded to blow his nose forcefully. "Cripes, you didn't bother to change your shirt after glomping your fucking cat, did you?"
Ma-kun laughed, shaking his head. "I guess I didn't. No worries, that's easily fixed." That predatory gleam had entered his eyes again, and he stripped the shirt from his bare chest and tossed it aside. Taki could see the scars and twists of healed bone beneath the skin, remnants of his near-fatal beating at the hands of Yuki Eiri.
Taki rolled his eyes, sniffling once more against the tissues before batting them to the side. He could pick them up later. "Ma-kun..."
"I'm not going to do anything, don't get your panties in a twist." Ma-kun climbed to his feet and crouched down, placing his hands beneath Taki's armpits and pulling him up. "Come on, now. Let's get you to bed. You don't want to be on the floor by the time those antihistamines kick in, trust me."
Like a ragdoll, Taki allowed Ma-kun to help him to his feet. He'd pulled aside the fresh covers, and Taki gratefully collapsed upon the bed. He hardly protested when Ma-kun slid beside him, spooning him from behind, and pulled the covers atop them both. As long as Ma-kun didn't try anything. Then, he'd get an elbow to the balls, if he were lucky. "How long until I start to feel it?" He was still congested, his nose still twinging faintly.
"Fifteen minutes, maybe less?" Ma-kun shrugged, and reached across him to shut off the light. "Hell, you might not feel anything at all."
"Then why did you give me those pills in the first place?"
Although Taki couldn't see Ma-kun's smirk, he could almost hear it in his tone of voice. "See, my theory is that they do nothing for allergies. The only reason you feel relief is that they knock you out, so you manage to sleep through them."
Taki sniffled against the back of his hand, shifting his body until he managed to get comfortable. Ma-kun was patient, sliding his arm around Taki's waist only when he knew his friend had settled. "You're all heart, Ma-kun."
"Yeah, that's what the ladies tell me." Ma-kun's breath was warm against the back of Taki's neck, the curve of his body comforting.
"I'm not your lady."
"No. But I am all heart."
Taki sighed once, rubbing the back of his hand against his nose, and curled in on himself as another sneeze overtook him. "Heh... chuhh! Fuck..." But it was starting to get better -- his sneezes weren't quite so painful, and he wasn't lapsing into uncontrollable fits anymore. And, slowly but surely, he was starting to feel sleepy... So very sleepy...
"Poor allergic Taki-chan. I'll vacuum the apartment tomorrow, okay?" Like a lover, Ma-kun gently brushed his lips against Taki's cheek, but he let it slide for now.
Taki sniffled, and let out a wry laugh. "That'll be, what, the first time you've done that since you moved here?"
"You're funny."
"I'm still going to shave that fucking cat of yours," said Taki with a yawn.
"You know, it isn't the hair that makes you allergic, it's the skin. Dander."
"Mmh. Then you'll come home tomorrow to a skinned cat." Warm. So very warm. Maybe the antihistamines were starting to take effect. Or maybe Taki had just been so very tired to begin with.
"You'd never do it. Even if you had the balls, you'd never be able to stop sneezing long enough to skin her."
"Fuck you, Ma-kun."
"Maybe another night, Taki-chan. Maybe another night."
Taki drifted, his head throbbing still, but Ma-kun holding him close and warm. And by the time he managed to make sense of what his friend had said, it was too late, and Taki slid graciously into a deep, deep sleep.
And he dreamt of Ma-kun's cat, selling the hairball to the Chinese place down the road. Yes, perhaps that would be something more to ponder come morning...
The End
Gravitation belongs to Murakami Maki, not me. Though I wouldn't mind a bit of Ma-kun for myself...