He hadn’t meant to stay a cat long enough for this to happen. By the time Saruhiko had an opportunity to change back (after a harrowing long time trying to leave the group he’d been spying on inconspicuously; he hadn’t planned on being found and adopted), he’d almost forgotten how to human.
He was still curled up, catlike, when he heard a loud, very familiar voice, “What did you do to him?!”
He tried to say Misaki. What came out was a meow.
Misaki swore and settled in beside him, soothing hand on his back. “C’mon, let’s get you up.”
He didn’t know how to get up, his paws not working right, and Misaki wanted him on only two. He buried his face in Misaki’s neck and scratched the arm supporting him.
“Stop that,” Misaki said sharply, but he reached up and scratched just so, much gentler, on Saruhiko’s neck.
Saruhiko found himself melting with a loud exhale. Misaki knew just how to do it.
“Good,” Misaki said. He helped Saruhiko sit upright. “Now say my name.”
It took a minute, a few tries, but finally he got out a low, human rasp. “Misaki.”