big manga spoilers! beware!

Warm.

His entire being was unbearably warm, the perpetual feeling of hiraeth that had dwelled inside him for the better part of his life finally mitigated. His eyes were cemented together, the reason why unbeknownst to him.

Gojo'd allow it. All he wanted to do was sleep for a million years, finally quench his insatiable urge for rest.

But he knew he couldn't.

Megumi impaling him with the lost shard of the Inverted Spear of Heaven was fresh in his mind, his face converging and blurring with that of his father's - he could no longer distinguish who was who in his memories.

He tried moving his muscles, urging himself to get the hell up. He had to track down Kenjaku and give him a good thrashing, then kill Yuji who had lost to Sukuna the moment he'd ingested the twentieth finger, and then he'd have to-

"Oh, you're awake?" A woman's mellifluous voice cooed.

Fingers brushed against his hair, felicity flooding through his being at the caress. He unconsciously leaned into the hand petting him, hungering for more. A rumble weaseled its way out of his throat, the sound thrumming, making his whole form pulse with life.

At long last, he opened his eyes, his surroundings blurred, muted.

"I'm so glad! You slept through the whole vet appointment, so I thought you'd never wake up." she said, warm hands wrapping around his body and setting him down on her lap.

He let out an angry meow. Appreciate it, but not the time! I just nearly died for the second time in my life! Unbelievable!

Gojo froze.

Meow?

He blindly jumped out of the woman's thighs and picked up speed, only to land flat on his face, limbs giving way and collapsing in on him.

What?

His line of sight was completely askew. He looked around, soaking in the sights around him, trying to make sense of just where he was, and whether or not he'd been saved or captured by a foe. No longer did he see nothing but blobs of cursed energy making up the matter that structured the world around him, meaning he was most definitely not in a safe place.

How had he been stripped of his Six Eyes? The only way that formerly impossible situation could have occurred was if someone restrained him and gouged his eyes out. He, obviously, still had a pair of eyes, so that was out of the question.

Thankfully, he could still feel the hearth of Limitless burning within him, the faint flames licking at the dying embers of his soul.

He still had his cursed technique. Awesome!

But how the hell was he supposed to use Limitless without Six Eyes? How could he save Megumi, Yuji, Yuta, every- was that Utahime?

Gojo blankly stared up at her, watching as her hands scooped down, bringing him to her chest, both figures engaging in a deep staring contest.

There was no way Utahime had done this, right? She, for over a decade, had always pretended like she hated him as some sort of weird bit, and he, out of the kindness in his magnanimous heart, had always played along, lest she be humiliated. And this was how she repaid him? Really?

Her technique was probably not strong enough to have caused this madness, so she must've been colluding with someone else or multiple someones behind the scenes.

Never mind whatever feelings he still has for her from high school. He was going to blast a hole through her head.

His heart nearly stopped when she brought him close and pressed a small kiss on his forehead, pulled away, and gave a light giggle, wearing the most dazzling expression he'd ever seen him wear. Granted, she rarely ever showed him joyful looks.

Was she... What was the word, a yandere? That had to be it.

The gears turning in his head finally clicked, and he sighed. At this rate, all of the alumni of the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College, with the exception of him, would be dead. No one would want to attend anymore if they found out.

"What's wrong, kitty?" Utahime asked worriedly, struggling to hold him what with all his floundering and boisterousness. "Calm down! You don't like kisses?"

No.

No.

Had she just called him "kitty"? He truly hadn't imagined the meow in his half-delirious state?

Gojo shakily ceased his thrashing and trained his gaze downwards - he was met with a soft, slightly pink underbelly, and two white, fuzzy hind legs.

This had to be a nightmare, some sort of sick prank.

A cat? He was a cat?

What could he even do as a cat? At least as a human, he could still give a damn good fight with just cursed energy reinforcement. Was he supposed to walk up to Kenjaku, bite him in the leg, and pray to God that he'd get rabies and drop dead?

He'd been unsealed for a reason - the world, or at least Japan, was in complete and utter jeopardy. Almost everyone he knew was dead, and the ones who were alive had become demented, shadows of their former selves.

Gojo's quickening heartbeat resounded in his ears, beating a sinus rhythm, the one thing anchoring him to the world.

"God, if only Daisuke was here." Utahime muttered, smoothing Gojo's fur back. "Are you hungry? Thirsty? Or do you need to go potty?"

Gojo looked up at her hazily. Should he bite her? Scratch her? The least fate could do for him was give him rabies so he had at least one weapon in his bare arsenal.

Under normal circumstances, he'd think of this as somewhat flattering, a bit of a jovial situation, celebrating Utahime finally revealing the hidden feelings for him he knew had been stewing for a good fourteen years and retiring her "Gojo sucks!" comedy routine.

However, this was a bit too far. Did she not know the saying of "right place, right time"? And was she seriously into bestiality? He expected better from her.

His eyes nearly popped out of his head when something soft, a tissue, touched his nether regions, drawing gentle circles around his genitals.

What the hell.

When he was still but a young sapling attending high school, he had often dreamed of this moment. The image had helped him several times in the dead of night, when he was alone in his dorm room with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company.

But this... this wasn't how he expected it to go.

Gojo yowled, trying to escape, to prevent the feeling in his lower stomach, his nose darkening into shades of rosewood, the knot in his stomach gradually loosening. He squeezed his eyes shut, desperately fighting against his the urges of his new body.

...

"Oh, you poor baby. You must've been holding that in for a while, huh?"

After about three months of living with Utahime, he had reluctantly begun getting used to his surroundings. He still had trouble looking her in the eyes for long after what had occurred when he'd been but a measly few weeks old. Thankfully, she had ceased using such barbaric methods when he had officially turned a month old and was able to relieve himself without outside assistance. His human dignity was slowly but surely ebbing out of him, and he was now unable to tell whether or not it was a good thing that he was feeling less and less mortified about using the litter box and having to watch Utahime clean up after him or bathe him. Not only that, but he was starting to feel nonchalant about matters such as grooming himself or walking on four legs.

Gojo had deduced, after studying her behavior, that she had no idea of anything that had transpired, and simply thought he was a random stray who she'd decided to adopt on a whim. She had mentioned him once a short while ago, when she was preparing his dinner of milk formula, mindlessly informing Gojo of his own disappearance.

It would've been comical had her eyes not looked so listless.

Still, life for him wasn't too bad.

Utahime was a rather gracious owner, buying him numerous toys, large cat trees, dutifully cooking him homemade meals after he'd turned his nose up at dry kibble the moment he'd been weaned off. She hugged him to sleep every night, lavished him with attention and affection, indulging him as much as she could, spending every second of her day with him when she wasn't preoccupied with sorcerer matters.

She, surprisingly, wasn't as busy as he'd thought, much less proactive than his students were when it came to the current bedlam and pandemonium that was the Culling Games. She'd told him once, while they were watching Gintama, that she'd been purposefully staying home more to spend time with him, but he really couldn't tell if she'd been joking or not. Regardless, it was somewhat comforting after years of keeping up a barrier between him and the outside world, shielding him from its dangers, temptations, and small charms. He didn't think he'd ever enjoyed so much physical touch in his entire life as a human.

Life wasn't too bad, except for the fact that he knew, in the stern of his mind, that his students, colleagues, longtime friends, and innocent civilians were being subjected to a sick game of life-and-death, with people getting slaughtered left and right.

Gojo tried, he really did, to not suffocate himself in habromania, but what could he do? Yes, perhaps he had got to grips with his situation far too quickly, but there was no use in wasting time that could be used in earning more relaxation for bemoaning these sad, sad circumstances that could not be changed. He had been reduced to a four-legged creature, his arahantship stripped from him, divinity slipping through his fingers, grains of sand.

Utahime always made sure he never left the house, and even if he somehow attained the ability to undo the locks that impounded him within, he wouldn't know where to go or what to do. How would anyone recognize him if Utahime, a semi-grade one sorcerer, couldn't? And if they could, what could they possibly do with a kitten?

His ears flattened, his heart sinking, the thoughts clouding his mind.

"What's wrong? Something bothering you, Noodle?"

Right. The only other obstacle in his relaxing new life.

He'd nearly forgotten about that god awful moniker she'd given him.

He vividly remembered a memory from his early childhood, one he cherished greatly, of his mother sitting him on her lap, earnestly telling him how she had spent months researching names for him, finally deciding on "Satoru", the name being her gift to him, carrying her wishes that he'd grow up to be like the Buddha or possibly even surpass him.

And now he was Noodle.

His mother was probably spinning in her grave.

Utahime yawned, stretching her limbs, pressing a kiss to the top of Gojo's furry head. The silk sheets covering the bed slowly slipped off her, revealing the white, lace chemise underneath, the afternoon sun's golden light phasing through the curtains, painting her creamy features an array of colors.

His ears flicked.

He'd seen her in the nude numerous times yet moments like these still somehow ruffled him.

The doorbell rang, snapping him out of his reverie, and he confusedly scampered after Utahime who was practically sprinting to the front door, speed charged by cursed energy, going at a pace that would make Olympians jealous.

When she finally stopped, Gojo nearly face planted into the door, his lungs burning, heart ready to burst.

To think he'd been known as the fastest sorcerer when he was still a human. Naobito and Naoya would have a field day if they could see him in his current state.

"It's your daddy, Noodle!" Utahime whispered, half to herself, shaky hands trying their best to undo the lock.

When the lock finally clicked, she launched herself into the arms of the person behind the door, arms wrapped around their neck, legs entrapping their waist.

"Daisuke! You're finally back!"

The person- no, man chuckled, and as Gojo stepped forward, his pupils contracted, watching as they mashed their lips together, fumbling to close the door behind them.

"What took you so long?" Utahime asked breathlessly, hanging off of Daisuke as he carried her towards the kitchen, luggage forgotten, forlornly abandoned at the door.

Daisuke sighed, pressing a kiss to her temple. "That Culling Game thing makes travel almost impossible. I'm lucky I got home within such a short amount of time."

Gojo lashed his tail back and forth, disgustedly standing by as this Daisuke person and Utahime passionately made out, both parties seemingly making a competition of who could take the others' clothes off fastest.

Gross.

Gojo didn't need nor want a father. He had gone twenty-nine fine years without one, and he had grown up just fine, thank you very much.

He faintly recalled noting that she had a ring on her finger when he was still a kit, but he'd figured that it'd simply been a part of her whole yandere shtick. She also frequently called someone for hours on end everyday; Gojo had just assumed that they were, in his words, "really good pals".

Maybe turning into a cat had messed with his brain.

Gojo had never recalled her ever mentioning having a man or any partner for that matter, throughout all the years he'd known her. Well, it probably never came up much, seeing as how they always, without exception, fell into a manzai routine whenever they crossed paths.

"I... I don't want the cat to see," Utahime gasped out suddenly, grabbing Gojo's attention. "He's still a baby."

Thank you! Someone remembers their manners!

Daisuke cast a look in his direction and snickered, setting Utahime down on the kitchen island. "Damn. It's uglier in real life."

"Hey! Be nice!"

It? Oh, when he got his paws on him, he would tear him to shreds.

"Ugly" was a word that should never come within a thousand mile radius of Gojo Satoru.

Gojo bolted from the kitchen the moment he heard the familiar crinkling of a certain object, relocating to the bathroom lying within the master bedroom. Surprisingly, he had never bothered with seeing what he looked like, despite having been a cat for twelve or so weeks. He was a god amongst men as a human, devastatingly handsome, as he liked to say, so he had simply assumed his cat version would be the same. It would be ridiculous to think otherwise, of course.

He hopped onto the black tiled sink, gazing at his appearance in the mirror. What stared back at him was a long-haired white cat with silky smooth fur and bulging, unfocused blue eyes, as well as the world's worst underbite, two snaggleteeth peeking out at him. Brown, almost black, crust edged his disgusting eyes, finally allowing him to realize just why Utahime insisted on cleaning the fur around his eyes so often.

He could feel himself growing faint, his lithe body staggering.

There was no way that was him. He wouldn't accept it. Couldn't.

It was absolutely preposterous, simply unthinkable that he had turned into such a vile, repulsive creature. How had Utahime decided to adopt him? Why? Was she insane?

What had he done to deserve this? From the day he was born, he'd been blessed, granted the strongest cursed technique, the richest family, and the most dashing looks the world had to offer.

He flattened himself to the unforgiving, icy slates laid upon the sink, eyes closed, and gave a short, mournful cry.

this is inspired by the Chinese novel "with you for thirteen years".

cat fact; kittens ~2 weeks old need outside assistance to ... use the restroom