This focuses mainly Joshua and Hanekoma (...like everything else I write) and contains SPOILERS for the secret reports, up to and including 21. (Well, and 22, but you know how it goes.)
Don't be fooled by the light-heartedness at the beginning; I did write this, so I do get to the angst eventually.
Annnnnd I should mention that this has some as-yet unwritten headcanon involved. Sorry about that. I hope it's not too confusing.

Pass the Cat

One: Discovery

On his way to Mr. Hanekoma's café after school, Joshua Kiryu passed a kitten. He heard rather than saw it; in the shadows of Spain Hill, the dark brown—almost black—ball of fur would have been unnoticeable if not for the mewling sound it made as Joshua walked by.

He liked cats—their aloofness amused him—so he crouched by it. "Hello, kitty," he said quietly, holding out his hand near the kitten's nose. It uncurled in order to sniff him. Obviously finding him not disagreeable, it then licked his fingertips.

"Hi," he said again. "Where's your home, hm? Do you have one?" Joshua suspected it was a stray; it had no collar, and its fur was matted with dirt. "Wanna come with me? I'm sure my friend would love to meet you." Carefully, he picked up the kitten and cradled it with both hands. "Let's go to WildKat, kitty."

The cat lay docile on his shoulder as he walked to Cat Street. The bell over the door tinkled as Joshua entered the café.

"Mr. H!" he called. "Guess what I found!"

The café owner came in from the back, but stopped when he saw what Joshua was holding. "You probably shouldn't bring that thing any closer," he said.

Joshua raised his eyebrows, nonplussed, but he obediently stayed at the far side of the café. "Are you allergic?"

"Not exactly."

Petting the purring kitten with one hand, Joshua put his other hand on his hip. "Don't tell me that the man who calls himself CAT, who has a café called WildKat on Cat Street, doesn't like cats?"

"No, I love cats," Hanekoma said, watching the furball warily. "They're none too fond of me, though."

"Don't be ridiculous." Joshua giggled. "You've probably just met some grumpy ones. This guy's as sweet as can be, look." He pulled the kitten off his shoulder and carried him towards Hanekoma. As he got close, though, the kitten tensed. His haunches went up, and he began hissing and spitting. Before Joshua could try to calm him down, he had twisted out of the boy's hands and darted back towards the door, where he sat and continued to hiss warningly.

Bewildered, Joshua looked from the kitten back to Mr. Hanekoma.

"Every damn time," Hanekoma sighed.

Joshua picked the kitten up again and sat down at the table farthest from the counter. The kitten was more agitated than he had been before they'd reached the café, but when it seemed that Joshua wasn't going to bring him any closer to Hanekoma again, he settled down atop the table.

"I suppose that means you can't keep him."

"It certainly does. –You want coffee?"

"Sure." Absently, Joshua stroked the kitten as Hanekoma poured him a cup of vanilla-hazelnut coffee. "I wonder what I should do with him, then…"

"Keep him yourself?" Hanekoma suggested. "You'll have to come get this coffee. I'm not gonna risk scaring that poor thing again."

"Probably a good idea."

"Which? Keeping the cat?"

"I meant getting the coffee myself," Joshua replied, doing so. But he considered Hanekoma's other idea. He did certainly like the kitten. "I bet Father would let me keep a cat… What do you think, Zeus? Would you like that?"

"Zeus?" Hanekoma snorted.

"Zeus," Joshua affirmed.

"Who names a kitten Zeus?"

"I do. He'll grow into it."

"Sure, Josh, you just keep telling yourself that."

*

Two: Running Away

A month and a half later, in April, Zeus ran away.

Of course, he had ample help from his owner, Joshua.

It had taken Joshua several days to figure out a set-up that would provide the kitten with everything it needed for up to nine days: water, food, litter, a bed, shelter in case it rained. Fortunately, his father wasn't home that afternoon to wonder where he was going with his kitten and a large box.

He set the box up in an alleyway near the Shibu Department Store. Zeus was meowing in quiet confusion.

"Sorry, Zu," Joshua said, petting him. "I should be back in about a week. In the meantime, though, I don't want Father giving you away. I wouldn't want to have to steal you back from the Humane Society or anything. I'll come see you while I'm playing, don't worry."

Later that evening, Joshua killed himself.

*

Three: One of Many Things Forgotten

Joshua halted in front of the Shibu Department Store. "Did you hear that?"

"What?" asked Megumi, the man he'd teamed up with to play the Game.

"I heard a cat." Sure enough, in a nearby alleyway, Joshua found a dark brown kitten sitting inside a box. It would have been more accurate, though, to say he'd stumbled upon the kitten's home; the box contained everything the cat needed: water, food, litter, a bed. The box even provided shelter in case it rained.

"How bizarre…" Megumi muttered, coming up behind him. "Someone's going through a lot of trouble to take care of this cat. Wouldn't it be easier to keep it at their own house?"

Joshua crouched by the box and reached in to let the kitten smell his hand. "Maybe it's a kid whose parents don't want a cat. Funny, though, he reminds me of my Zeus…" Unlike the always-friendly Zeus, however, this kitten backed away from his hand, growling lowly. Joshua sighed. "Pity. I suppose we'd better get back to playing now."

*

Four: The (Re-)Naming of Cats

"Hello, Zeus." Shibuya's new Composer approached the box that contained his kitten. "Sorry about last week, dear, my memory was… a little off. Did you have enough to eat?" Zeus looked healthy enough, so the Composer assumed he had. He reached into the box and plucked the kitten out of it. To his surprise, Zeus started hissing and tried to scramble out of his hands.

"Zeus, calm down! Calm down, it's me." The Composer dragged his vibe down to human level so the kitten would recognize him. But Zeus still fought him. His claws came out, and soon the Composer had several shallow scratches on his hand. They did not bleed.

The Composer frowned. "What's gotten into you, huh?" Zeus only spat in return.

The Composer recognized this attitude. Cautiously holding the kitten at arm's length, he tuned back up and then teleported to WildKat. "Mr. H?" he called for his Producer. "I want to ask you som—Zeus, behave!" The kitten's struggles were more frantic now, and the Composer couldn't hold on. Twisting out of the Composer's grasp, Zeus hit the floor and dashed away—this time towards Hanekoma. He curled himself around the Angel's leg and, from that safe spot, hissed at the Composer.

The Composer raised an eyebrow. "I thought cats hated you?" he said coolly.

Hanekoma gave a soft chuckle and picked up the kitten, which calmed in his hands. "More accurately speaking, they hate Composers," he explained. "Reapers, too."

"And Players?" The Composer remembered Zeus's wariness when he'd found the kitten during the Game.

"Well, they can sense vibes, see," Hanekoma said, nuzzling noses with Zeus in a way that would have been cute had the Composer not been so annoyed. "RG-level vibes don't bother them, but it seems that UG vibes are too high and get on their nerves."

"But we're not tuned to the UG right now," the Composer protested, eying the Reaper decal on the window of the café. "The decal pulls me down to the RG."

"Yes, but your nature is still as a UG being. You've still got some Composer vibes, even when masquerading as a human."

The Composer crossed his arms. "Aren't Angel vibes even higher?"

"Yep," Hanekoma said. "Too high for cats to pick up." He sounded very pleased.

The Composer could hear Zeus purring from all the way across the café. He sat down with a huff. "I want coffee."

"Sure thing." Hanekoma ignored his mood. "I'll just take this little fella to the back…"

The Composer drummed his fingers on the table. He could hear Hanekoma chuckling and coddling the cat as he waited. "Don't get cat hair in the food," he warned. In spite, he added, "Not that it'd matter, you never get any customers."

Hanekoma laughed.

A few minutes later, the Composer asked, "Am I ever going to get my coffee?"

"It's brewing, Josh. Hold your horses."

Since I can't hold my cat, the Composer thought.

Finally he stood up and stalked over to the door that separated the back of the café from the front. When he pushed it open, he saw Hanekoma moving Zeus through the air above his head.

"Kitty's an airplane," said the full-grown man, the ex-Composer, the Angel in a singsong voice.

The Composer stared. "For goodness' sake, Mr. H, it's just a kitten! You're acting like you're five years old!" he said. He'd meant to sound nettled—he was nettled—but somehow affection snuck into his voice.

Hanekoma laughed again, clearly enjoying himself. "Sorry, Josh, it's just that it's been over fifty years since I've been able to get near a cat without it trying to claw my eyes out. They are my favorite animals, you know."

"Hmph," the Composer replied. But he was smiling. His eyes went to the coffeepot. "Looks like my coffee's ready."

"Yup. Lemme get that for you." Hanekoma put the kitten down, poured the coffee, and came to hand it to the Composer. Ever-curious, Zeus tried to follow him, but as he got close to the Composer, he started to hiss again.

The Composer sighed and backed away, holding his hands up in surrender. "Mr. H," he asked with faux pleasantry, "would you like to keep that cat?"

"Ha! Did you hear that, Terrafitz? The big bad Composer says I can keep you!"

"The big bad Composer has not yet said any such thing," said the Composer, "and if you call him the big bad Composer again, he is not going to. …What did you just call Zeus?"

"I've decided to call him Terrafitz."

"That's not a name," the Composer protested. "It's not even a word."

"It is a name," Hanekoma said. "A particular name, for a particular cat."

*

Five: Feed a Cross Cat

Two years later.

The Composer had never been to Hanekoma's apartment before. When he let himself in—he needed no key, as he could pass right through the door—he was surprised at how drab it was. Though WildKat was always welcoming, well-lit, and decorated according to the latest trends, this apartment was practically bare. Only one overhead light graced the living room, which did not look like it could fulfill its purpose as it only contained a folding chair and a flimsy-looking card table. A quick peek into what had to be the bedroom revealed a futon with a thin pillow and a thinner blanket. The Composer sighed.

"Kitty…?" he called quietly.

When he thought about it, though, it wasn't like this was Hanekoma's home. He probably had a much nicer place on the Higher Plane—painted and decorated in an almost flashy matter, if the Composer knew him at all. This place was more of a last resort, somewhere to sleep if circumstances forced him to stay on the RG or the UG for an extended period of time.

Must've gotten a lot of use this past month, the Composer thought idly. Then, aloud, "Kitty? T—whatever he called you. Tar-pits." As Composer, he had an almost flawless memory when he chose to access it. He did not choose so now. "Zeus, I've come to feed you."

Perhaps the cat food was kept in the kitchen? The Composer wandered into that room, finding it as drab as the others, and began opening cupboards. As he did, he heard a familiar hissing behind him. He turned to see the brown cat, now full-grown, arching his back and showing his teeth.

"Hello, Zeus. You've gotten quite big—I did tell Mr. H that you'd grow into your name. If I bother you, stay over there. Your owner—" Most of the cupboards were empty, but here was the cat food. The Composer pulled the bag down. "—has gotten himself into some trouble and he's not going to be available until—oh, Saturday evening at the very earliest." The Angel who'd come to arrest Hanekoma had promised the Composer that the trial would be delayed until the current Reapers' Game ended. "After that, he'll be back.

"…Maybe."

The Composer could not stop himself from adding it. He was a pessimist, and he knew his Producer was an optimist, so he found it difficult to trust Hanekoma's insistence that there was an ample chance of a kind verdict. Expending too much hope exhausted him.

He found Zeus's food bowl and poured some food into it. "Until he returns, I'll be feeding you. If he doesn't…" He had to work to keep his mind on the practical. "I'll have to find you a new home. I wonder if Neku likes cats?" he mused. "He likes CAT, of course, but that is an entirely different question, and wondering if he likes CAT's cat is rather pointless wordplay." Not entirely pointless; it was preferable to considering the scenario of asking Neku to take care of a cat because its owner, Neku's idol, had been executed. Whether the boy liked cats or not.

The Composer set the food bowl onto the floor and brought the other bowl to the sink, intending to fill it with water. He turned the tap, but no water came out.

"Oh, Mr. H." He remembered seeing a pack of water bottles in one of the cupboards. He located it and emptied part of one into the bowl. Placing the bowl down, he sighed heavily. "I'm overworked, Zeus. I need a vacation."

The cat only hissed at him.

"No, that last one didn't count. It's not a vacation if you're away from home because someone at home is trying to kill you. That's your owner I'm referring to, by the way, but don't worry your soft little head about that. He isn't a bad person. Just very, very certain about what he believes, and that should not be a crime.

"In any case, I suppose I'm giving you a headache or making your ears ring or something like that," the Composer said, "and it isn't as though you have any idea what I'm saying. So I may as well leave now. I'll be back again tomorrow to feed you."

He waited until he was far away from the cat to tune up and teleport away.

*

Six: Worse

Long since tired of reminding himself that things could be much, much worse, Sanae instead chose to consider how he was going to decorate his apartment, now that he would actually be spending the vast majority of his time on the lower planes. He silently cursed himself for not thinking to brighten the place up earlier. Spending the night, this night when he was already feeling so uncharacteristically dejected, in such a dull room would probably not help matters. He reminded himself again that things could be much, much worse.

If nothing else, though, he had his sketchbook; he could spend the night designing murals for the walls, and possibly some proper furniture.

He arrived at his apartment and dug in his pocket for his key before realizing that he'd probably left it at WildKat all those ages ago (six days) when he'd been arrested. At the thought of trudging all the way back to the café, he sighed—but then he felt something metal between his fingers. He pulled it out of his pocket. It was his key.

"Thank you," he muttered, "and stop watching me."

The words whatever you say imprinted themselves into his mind, along with a little pout that had an edge of concern. Joshua was worried about him, and Sanae didn't want him to be. It wouldn't do either of them any good. Eventually Sanae would have to explain to the boy that as much as he valued his friendship, it was nothing like the communion of the Angels. But not tonight.

He let himself into his apartment; it seemed even more depressing than he remembered. "Fitz?" he called. "I'm home."

Terrafitz came bounding out of the bedroom. Abruptly, though, he stopped, and his haunches went up. Flattening himself against the wall, he began hissing.

"Fitz?" Sanae said, his heart sinking. "Hey, what's wrong, bud?"

Terrafitz continued hissing, and when Sanae took a step towards him, he darted back into the bedroom. Sanae found himself following him. The cat was crouching behind the futon, in full defensive mode. He was desperately terrified.

"Fitz, it's me," Sanae said quietly, but he knew it was hopeless. In the back of his mind, he could feel his own base vibe, a mosquito whine that was lower than he was used to. To enforce his exile, the Angels had lowered his base vibe so that it suited the UG better than it suited the Higher Plane; now, it was just barely higher than the Composer's.

And, apparently, back in the range of cats' senses.

Sanae wanted to try one more time to calm his cat, but a more reasonable part of him knew that would only panic the poor animal more. "Shh, Fitz, shh. It's okay. I'm leaving." He backed away and out of his apartment, shutting the door behind him. He leaned against the far wall.

"Damn," he mumbled.

After a moment of silent, fierce frustration, he made himself pull out his cell phone. His first concern should be finding Terrafitz a new owner, one that wouldn't send the poor cat into a frenzy.

A telephone number was imprinted on his mind.

"I told you to stop watching me," Sanae muttered, even as he dialed the number.

I ignored that, Joshua replied.

"Yeah, I noticed."

The call went through, and Sanae made his voice light. "Hey, Phones, I've got a bit of a funny request for you. Can you take in a cat on short notice?"

*

Seven: A long time to be without a cat

"I'm sorry."

The Composer's eyebrows shot up. "You're sorry? That's a rarity."

Neku had taken Terrafitz. It had been quite a process; Sanae had had to send the boy into the apartment to get Terrafitz, and that was after thorough reassurances that no, Sanae was not going to be executed—he needed to hand off his cat for a different reason. Even then, Neku had seemed concerned, until he'd tried to get Terrafitz to say good-bye to his former owner and been rewarded with an armful of panicky cat.

After that discouraging encounter, once Neku was gone, Joshua had appeared to drag Sanae away from home. His arguments were good—that an apartment that boring was a horrible place to spend the night, and that with his current attitude, Sanae was being more than a little hypocritical—and finally Sanae had agreed to join the Composer at their usual haunt, atop 104.

"What're you sorry for, exactly?" Joshua prompted.

"I suppose it's a little late to be realizing this," Sanae said, "but I could have been a lot nicer when I took your cat away from you."

Joshua giggled. It sounded a bit hollow. "Oh, that. Yes, you could have, but that's probably not something you need to worry about. I don't think I was half as bothered by it as you are—I'm not quite as cat-crazy as you are, and I'd only had him for a few weeks. And I hadn't just had such an awful day."

"Mm," Sanae half-agreed.

"And besides, far be it from me to come between a child and his favorite toy…"

Sanae snorted. "There are several things wrong with that sentence."

"You think so? It seems pretty accurate to me," Joshua teased. He was silent for a moment, and then he said, "Neku will take good care of Fitz, I'm sure. His parents will let him keep him." It wasn't idle reassurance; he considered comforting his Producer a wise use of his clairvoyance.

"I know he will," Sanae replied with a faith that didn't need to see the future to know it. "He's a good kid."

"Better now than before," Joshua said in a sing-song voice.

They watched the city.

"Is your exile permanent?" Joshua asked in a minute.

Sanae shrugged. "Five hundred years."

"My goodness. Do Angels really live that long?"

"Producers don't."

"Ah," Joshua said. "So, permanent."

"Basically."

Joshua gave an empathetic sigh. "That's a long time to be without a cat."

Sanae gave a tight smile. "Yeah it is, Josh, and I really don't need reminding right now."

Then Joshua nodded towards the city below.

"Worth it?" he asked quietly.

Something constricted Sanae's chest, a sad and certain and unshakeable love.

"Yeah," he answered. "It was."

I should probably apologize for the Mood Whiplash (cheerful and cute to ANGST), but... *tilts head* I strongly prefer the angst. Because I fail that way.
I might eventually come up with something about Neku's ownership of the cat. (He changes its name again.)
Speaking of name-changing, the title of section four and the name "Terrafitz" were inspired by T. S. Eliot's poem, "The Naming of Cats."