Chapter 1: I Won't Hurt You
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Laika had always been different.
She shouldn’t complain, really.
Sure, she was taller than most, her features a little off from what people expected. But it wasn’t as if she were some strange mix of predator and prey, torn between instincts that didn’t belong together. No, she had it easy in comparison.
But people noticed things.
"Why is your tail so long?"
"Why is your nose so big?"
"You’re so tall for a caracal."
The questions were never malicious, not exactly. Just idle curiosities, casual observations that never seemed to fade. In a town as small as Crestville, there was no escaping them. She was different, and once people noticed, they never let themselves forget.
Larger carnivores saw her as weak.
Smaller herbivores saw her as dangerous.
She’d grown used to the looks, the whispered speculation, the awkward hesitation in conversations. But that didn’t mean she liked it.
Moving to Cherryton City was the first real choice she’d made for herself—the first step toward a life where she could breathe. It wasn’t quite home, but there was a comfort in the anonymity of a city this large. Here, she could disappear into the crowd, just another face among millions.
The moment she’d stepped off the train, dragging her suitcase behind her, she felt it—freedom. Her mother had warned her against moving. “It’s dangerous,” she had said, her voice clipped with disapproval. “You don’t belong in a place like that.” But Laika was 25 now, more than old enough to make her own choices, and she wasn’t going to live in her mother’s small clinic forever.
Her apartment was nothing special—a one-bedroom in a complex that smelled faintly of damp carpet, cigarettes and fried oil. But it was hers. She spent her days wandering the city, drinking in its sights, its people, its pulse. She took a job at a small café, earning just enough to pay rent and indulge in the occasional pastry. On the side, she studied programming, learning just enough to satisfy her curiosity, not the least her ambitions for a decent future.
It was for the best. That leaving behind the quiet predictability of Crestville would help her finally be… herself. Whatever that meant. Yet, after weeks of wandering the streets of Cherryton City, weaving through crowds of beasts that never looked twice at her, she was starting to wonder if this was just another mistake.
It was why she found herself here—sitting at the counter of a dimly lit bar, swirling the last sip of her drink in its glass. She wasn’t much of a drinker, but she figured a night out wouldn’t hurt. New city, new people, new opportunities. It was worth a shot.
“You’re really hot for a caracal.”
The voice was smooth, self-assured.
Laika turned her head to find a black panther leaning against the counter beside her, watching her through slitted eyes. He looked tall, sleek, his coat glossy under the bar lights.
His smile was all sharp teeth.
“I mean,” the panther continued, swirling his drink lazily, “Most caracals are cute. But you? You’re something else, like you got this edge, know what I mean? It’s kinda exciting.”
Laika’s ear twitched, and she set her glass down with a little too much force.
He probably thought it was a compliment, but all she heard was you’re attractive, but only because you don’t look fully caracal. Because all other caracals aren’t attractive enough.
“Wow, you’re really observant,” she said, voice cool, though the tension in her shoulders betrayed her.
The panther grinned, leaning in as if he’d scored a point. “So, do I get to—”
She slid off the stool, leaving a few bills on the counter before pushing past him and heading for the door.
You’re really hot for a caracal.
Laika felt her stomach turn.
As if half of her didn’t count. As if the entire species was just… cute .
She shouldn’t have expected it to be easy.
Outside, the city air was thick with the scent of rain and distant street food. She inhaled deeply, shoving her hands into her pockets.
“This is pointless…” Laika muttered to herself. “You don’t need anyone.“
Caracals were solitary by nature. They didn’t form prides or packs, didn’t long for the company of others the way some species did. It was just the way things were.
But Laika wasn’t just a caracal.
She had spent her entire life pretending that she didn’t care about the way people looked at her, that she didn’t notice how they hesitated, how they picked her apart with their eyes and their words. She had convinced herself that solitude was a choice. That it was fine.
And yet, something in her resisted the thought.
Because as much as she tried to play the part of the independent loner, her other half—the part she barely acknowledged—craved more. Longed for something she couldn’t quite name.
Maybe next time would be different.
The next day, Laika decided tried again.
Nothing extravagant—just a quiet walk, a casual dinner, maybe even an impulsive stop at the small bookstore she had passed on her way home from work. A chance to exist among others, if nothing else.
She had just finished worked. Taken a shower, trimmed her pelt, and was on her way out for the evening.
Laika pressed the button for the ground floor, shifting her weight onto one foot as she waited. The dull swoop of the lift descending filled the air. When the doors finally slid open, she stepped inside, pressing herself into the corner as the doors began to close again.
A hand shot between the doors, stopping them with ease.
Laika tensed as they slid open once more, revealing the two figures standing just beyond them.
A towering figure stepped in with a slow, confident stride. Dark fur, darker mane, broad shoulders wrapped in a fitted black coat, and spots freckling under his eyes. He was young—probably not much older than her—but there was something about the way he carried himself that put her on edge.
He moved with the quiet confidence of someone who owned every space he walked into.
The second followed a moment later, this one with a slicked-back mane and a smirk that didn’t quite reach his clouded eyes. He leaned casually against the side of the elevator, sizing her up in a way that made her skin prickle.
Laika instinctively stepped back, her back colliding into the wall behind her.
She felt her pulse quicken.
Lions are one of caracals’ apex predators.
Instinct told her to stay still. To avoid eye contact. To shrink herself down, even though she was tall for a caracal. But she wasn’t just a caracal, was she?
There was no sensible reason to be afraid.
This was a city, not the wild. There were laws. There were rules.
Yet, they were stronger. They were taller. And right now, they outnumbered her. Caged her in between them.
The first lion—the one with dark coat—leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. She felt his gaze on her, her fur standing on the end.
The other one clicked his tongue, adjusting the collar of his jacket. “Damn. Elevators always make me feel like I’m about to be buried alive.”
His friend hummed in agreement but didn’t speak.
Laika swallowed, willing her body to stay relaxed.
The one with the dark mane exchanged a glance with the other lion before looking back at her. “You live here?”
Laika hesitated before nodding. “Yeah.” It would be stupid to lie. They probably saw her lock her door.
“Huh,” the slick-maned one mused, rolling his shoulder. “Didn’t take you for the type to live in a place like this.”
She frowned at that. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Relax, relax.” His smirk widened. “Just making conversation.”
The tension in the elevator was suffocating.
The elevator continued its descent.
Her eyes flicked to the numbers descending above the doors.
She reached for the panel, pressing the number ‘2’ just to get out early. The numbers above the door slowed.
The moment it stopped, she took a step forward, ready to slip out early and take the stairs the rest of the way down.
A sharp motion—a dark-furred hand around her wrist, a twist of muscle and force. Before she could react, the lion was behind her, an arm locking around her waist, lifting her off her feet.
Panic slammed through her like a shock of ice.
“What the—? Let go of me!”
She struggled, twisting, kicking, but the grip remained strong.
The elevator doors opened onto an empty floor.
“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he gritted out, his hot breath piercing her ear.
Laika snarled, as she swung at him, claws barely missing his face. The slick-maned one clicked his tongue in amusement.
“Damn. Feisty little thing, huh?”
“Just hurry it up already!”
Laika twisted again, her breath coming in sharp gasps.
She snarled, her instincts kicking in, but they were stronger. Bigger.
She sunk her teeth into his arm, piercing his coat until she tasted iron.
“AGH– FUCK! The bitch— fucking bit me! ”
A shrill laughter cut through the air.
Laika barely had time to process before something sharp jabbed into her neck.
The world tilted. The fluorescent lights above blurred into streaks. She gasped, her body going limp. The last thing she saw was the two dark and light figures looking down at her.
Pain. A dull, throbbing ache behind her eyes. Laika’s senses crawled back to her one at a time—the rough fabric of a sack over her head, the bite of tight ropes around her wrists, the low growl of voices speaking just beyond her reach. The air smelled of musk, smoke, and iron, a heady mixture that made her stomach turn.
Her pulse pounded. Where was she? What happened?
She forced herself to remain still, listening. The voices were deep, some gruff, others smoother, but all of them carried an edge. There was tension in the air, an argument simmering beneath their words.
"....boss….his will…." A deep voice cut through the murmur of conversation.
Another voice scoffed. “Boss?....not even a…hybrid...”
“She’s his blood, and she’s here now.”
Laika stiffened. They were talking about her?
A third voice—one she somehow recognised. “You want us to take orders from a kitten? Get outta here, Ibuki!”
“It’s either her , merging, or dismantlement. Do I need to remind you what happened to the Toragumi?”
Then, another voice—rough, skeptical. “And you think she’s fit to lead? She doesn’t even know what we do.”
“She can learn,” the authoritative voice—Ibuki, she realized—argued. “And we don’t have another choice.”
Laika’s breathing hitched. What the hell were they talking about? His blood? Take orders? She struggled against the ropes binding her wrists, feeling her pulse hammering against them. The slight rustle of movement must have caught their attention because the voices stopped.
“Ah,” Ibuki said, his voice calm but alert. “She’s awake.”
Footsteps approached. The sack was ripped from her head. Harsh light flooded her vision, forcing her to blink rapidly. The faces before her swam into focus—lions.
A dozen of them eyeing here right then and there.
They surrounded her in a semi-circle, their towering forms casting imposing shadows across the dimly lit room.
Served on a dinner plate.
The one who had removed the bag loomed closest, his golden mane framing his strong features, glasses glinting over narrowed eyes.
Her gaze darted around the room. It was a large, dimly lit chamber, the furniture sparse and functional. No windows. No obvious exits. A meeting room? A den?
A chair scraped against the floor as Ibuki took a seat across from her. “Good evening, Miss Malaika,” he said smoothly. “Welcome to the Shishigumi. I imagine you have a lot of questions.”
Her heart pounded against her ribs. “What the hell is going on?” she demanded, voice hoarse.
Ibuki ignored her outburst, turning to the others. “She’s awake now. You can see for yourselves.”
The lions exchanged glances. The one who had been the most vocal in protest—one a large X-shaped scar between his eyes—crossed his arms. “She doesn’t look like a boss to me.”
“No offense, kid,” another bulky one with dreadlocks added with a smirk. “But we were expecting someone a little more… lion.”
"L-look, man," Laika started, her gaze glancing frantically between the lions around her. " I don't know who you are, but I haven't done anything, and I don't know shit, so–"
Ibuki held up a hand, silencing her. His eyes narrowed further two mere slits behind his glasses as he studied her. She squirmed, though with her bound to a chair, there was no way to hide.
"You're not in a position to make demands, little cat," he said finally, and slowly stood up from his seat.
He circled the chair slowly, his footsteps deliberate and measured. The other lions watched him, their eyes following his movements.
Ibuki stopped in front of her, looming. She could feel the dangerous heat radiating off him, and he reeked of the same stench that filled the room.
"You are Malaika, aren't you?" he asked, his tone conversational, almost gentle. "The Chief's heir. Which makes you our problem now."
Laika stared at them, trying to process. “Chief’s… What?” she repeated, her voice shaking more than she’d like. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
How did they know her name?
How did they know her at all?
“Playing dumb won’t work, ya know.” One lion spoke up —the one with slicked-back mane—the one who kidnapped her.
Laika flinched as he reached for her. “Don’t–”
He grabbed her chin with a rough, careless grip with his claws digging into her skin, and twisted her face up. “Not bad lookin’, is she? For a little kitty–”
“Free. ” Ibuki shot the smirking lion a sharp look, silencing him with a mere glare.
The smirking lion—Free?—shrugged, releasing Laika and stepping away. Ibuki turned his attention back to her.
"Don't play coy, little one," Ibuki said, his voice a low rumble. "We know who you are. Or rather, who you're supposed to be." He leaned in closer, his pungent breath hot against her face. "The Chief's successor. The one chosen to lead us after he's gone."
Laika's eyes widened. She jolted, rope scratching against her wrists.
"We're not here to hurt you," Ibuki said, straightening up while adjusting his tie. "Not unless you give us a reason to." He began to pace around the chair again, his footsteps echoing in the tense silence of the room. "You're not the first choice for this position, but you're the one the Chief wanted. And until we decide otherwise, that's enough for us."
He paused, looking down at her over the rim of his glasses. "So here's how this is going to work. You're going to listen, and you're going to learn. You're going to do as we say, when we say it." He leaned down, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur. "And if you do that, you might even live long enough to see what it means to be the boss."
Around them, the lions watched, their eyes glinting in the shadows. The air was thick with tension, the weight of their expectations and the uncertainty of the future hanging heavy over them all.
Laika stared at him, her mind reeling with the implication of his words. "I… What? I-I can't–”
"You can, and you will," he said firmly. "The Chief chose you for a reason, little cat. It's up to us to determine if you're worthy of his legacy." He leaned in closer, his hands gripping the armrests of the chair. Caging her in. "But make no mistake, if you can't handle this, if you can't step up and lead when it matters, then you're no use to us. And we have ways of dealing with those who are no use."
The other lions shifted, their postures tightening. She could’ve sworn one even licked his maw. The air was thick with the weight of their anticipation, the unspoken threat hanging heavy over her.
Ibuki's gaze never left Laika’s face, watching for every flicker of emotion, every hint of weakness. "So what's it going to be, Miss Malaika?" he asked, his voice a low, dangerous murmur. "Are you going to make this harder for yourself than it needs to be?"
Laika finally snapped. "I'm not trying to be! I don’t know who you are or who my father is! I didn't ask for this! I have a life! I don't know the first thing about leading a– a fucking lion pride mafia or whatever the hell you are!"
Free snorted, shaking his head. "Listen to her. A fucking lion pride mafia! " he mocked, his voice higher-pitched at the end before returning normal. “I mean, she got us pegged, not gonna lie."
Ibuki's eyes flashed with a flicker of anger at her outburst, but he maintained his composure. "You think that matters?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "You think any of us asked for the lives we've been dealt? The Chief didn't ask to be a leader, either, but he made something of himself. He built this organisation from nothing. And he chose you to take it over. So don't tell me you have a life. Your life is here now."
The dark-furred lion—her other kidnapper—glanced away, unable to meet her gaze, but the others watched, waiting.
Laika tensed, her hands clenching into fists behind her back. She hated the way they were looking at her, as if sizing up a piece of meat, "I–I have a home. A job—"
Ibuki's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on the armrests until the wood creaked under his fingers. "A home? A job?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "You think those things matter now? You're the Chief's successor, not some soft little housecat playing at being normal." He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her face as he spoke through clenched teeth. "Not anymore. Your old life is gone. This is your life now. Us. The Shishigumi."
Laika’s hackles rose, anger and fear warring within her. She was painfully aware of how outnumbered she was, and how powerless she was to escape. But her pride flared.
"And if I refuse?" she said, her voice a low growl.
The room fell silent once more, the other lions watching with bated breath to see how their leader would respond.
Slowly, deliberately, Ibuki pushed himself off the chair. He took a step back, then another, his gaze never leaving Laika’s face. When he spoke, his voice was low and cold, each word dripping with menace. "If you refuse... then you leave us no choice but to treat you like the enemy. And trust me, little cat, you do not want to see what happens to our enemies."
Laika’s ears lowered, the weight of his words crashing down on her like a wave. She knew it was true. There was no escaping this. Her other options… Death? Getting eaten? Both?
"I... I need my phone," she whispered. "I need to call my mom."
Ibuki paused, looking slightly taken aback—the most normal emotion she had seen from him by far. He glanced at Dolph, who shrugged, his expression unreadable.
After a long, tense moment, Ibuki sighed, running a hand over his face. "Fine," he said at last. "You can call your mother." He nodded to the scarred-faced lion. "Dolph, give her a phone."
Dolph reached into his pocket and tossed it carelessly towards her. It hit the ground with a soft thud, the phone bouncing once before coming to rest inches from her feet. It was a burner phone, cheap and disposable, not at all like the sleek smartphone she personally owned.
"Make it quick," Ibuki warned, his gaze hard.
Laika glared down at the phone, then up at Dolph. "Can you cut me loose? My hands are a bit tied up."
Dolph glanced at Ibuki, who gave a slight nod. He then stepped forward and knelt down, a knife appearing in his hand. The blade flashed as he cut the rope, freeing her from the chair.
Laika rubbed at her chafed wrists, indentations on her fur already visible. She leaned down and snatched her phone off the floor. The time read 01:37. Her mother would definitely be asleep.
She quickly dialed the number. Thankfully, she had it memorised.
The line rang once, twice, three times. Laika’s heart raced as she waited, the seconds feeling like an eternity.
Finally, her mother picked up. "Hello?" Her voice was sleep-roughened on the other end of the line.
"Mo-om," Laika said, her own voice cracking. "It's me."
There was a pause, the sound of rustling fabric and a bed creaking as her mother sat up. "Lulu? Is everything alright? It's so late, why are you calling now?"
The sound of her nickname made her heart lurch. Laika swallowed hard, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "Mom... I... I can't explain everything right now. But I need you to listen to me." She glanced up at Ibuki, who watched her intently, his expression unreadable. "I have to go away for a while. For work." It was a half-truth, and she hated lying to her mother, but she didn't know how to begin to explain the reality of her situation.
There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line before her mother responded, "Go away? What do you mean, go away? Laika, what's going on?" Her voice rose in pitch, the concern morphing into alarm.
"Just... just a work opportunity." Laika said, trying to keep her voice nonchalant, but probably butchering it. "I'll call as soon as I can, and I'll explain everything, okay?"
"An opportunity? At this hour? For a cafe?" Her mother sounded skeptical, bordering on outraged. "Malaika, I don't like this. You're not making sense. Where are you going? And why so suddenly?"
Ibuki crossed his arms over his chest, giving a sharp gesture of his head. Hurry up.
"I–I have to go," Laika said quietly, her gaze fixed on the towering lion before her. "I love you, mom."
There was a choked sob before her mother responded, "Malaika, wait! You can't just—"
But Laika had already hung up, ending the call before her mother could say more. She couldn't bear to hear the fear and confusion in her mother's voice any longer.
Slowly, she lowered the phone from her ear, her hand trembling slightly as she set it down on her lap. She looked up at Ibuki, though with her blurred vision, he was more of a faint figure. "I'm done.”
"Good kitten," he said quietly, nodding once. In approval? She didn’t know. He jerked his head towards the door.
Like clockwork, the lions began to file out, Dolph leading the way. Free paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on Laika’s face before disappearing out the door as well
Ibuki watched their departure. When the last one had left, he then turned his attention back to Laika, his expression unreadable.
"That phone stays with me," he said, holding out a clawed hand expectantly. "For your safety, of course." His tone made it clear it was an order, not a request.
'Likely fucking story,' she thought bittery. More like so she couldn’t call the police on them or some shit like that.
Laika glared at his hand, but slowly placed the burner phone on his palm.
Ibuki closed his fingers around the phone, tucking it into his pocket. He looked down at Laika, his expression softening slightly. "You did well," he said, his voice almost gentle. "Keeping your mother in the dark is for the best. The less she knows, the safer she'll be."
He reached out, gripping Laika’s chin firmly, forcing her to meet his gaze. "But make no mistake, your old life is over. This is your life now, here with us. The Shishigumi is your family now." His thumb brushed over her cheek, wiping away a stray tear. "And like any family, we take care of our own. But we also expect loyalty, obedience, and strength."
His grip tightened, his claws digging into her skin. "You have a lot to learn, but I have faith in you. The Chief chose you for a reason. Don't let him down." With that, he released her and stepped back, turning to follow the others out of the room.
"So, where am I supposed to sleep?" She called out after him.
Ibuki paused at the door, glancing back over his shoulder. "You'll sleep in the quarters prepared for the boss's heir," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "It's not much, but it's yours now." He gestured down the hallway. "Dolph will show you the way."
With that, he stepped out, leaving Laika alone in the room. Dolph appeared a moment later, his expression unreadable. "C’mon," he said, jerking his head towards the hallway. "Let's get you situated."
Laika chuffed, but obeyed nonetheless, hoisting herself up to her feet. Even when she stood full-height, she barely reached their chest.
Dolph led Laika down a dimly lit hallway, the carpet worn and threadbare beneath her feet. He stopped in front of a heavy wooden door. Turning the golden knob, he pushed it open to reveal a small, spartan room.
Inside, a large bed with a thick mattress dominated the space, a nightstand and a towering dresser completing the grand furnishings. A roof-to-floor window looked out over a shimmering lake with a sofa in front of it.
She could feel Dolph’s gaze burn on her neck as she stepped inside.
"...Is this where he used to live?" Laika asked, her voice ragged from her recent crying.
Dolph hesitated, a flicker of… something, crossing his face before he nodded. "Aye. This was the Chief's room." He stepped closer, his voice lowering. "He started in this room, just like you. And look where he ended up."
Dolph's eyes flashed at the blunt statement, his jaw clenching. "He died a respected leader, with the loyalty of his pride and the power to choose his successor." He stepped closer, looming over her smaller frame. "Something you'll never have if you keep talking like that, little cat."
"Whatever," she mumbled and immediately made a beeline to—not the bed—but the small sofa instead. She slumped down onto the cushions, curling up to her side with her back facing the door, tail tucked against her body.
"...Suit yourself," Dolph muttered.
With that, he stepped out, closing the door behind him with a firm click. The room fell silent, save for the distant sounds of the city and the soft sound of Laika’s breathing as she tried to find a modicum of comfort on the lumpy sofa.
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