When Tobirama was young, he left water and meat scraps out for a straggly big stray; he used it as suiton practice, which made Father happy, and waited patiently as the cat crept closer each time. Soon it came close enough that Tobirama could see that the proportions were all wrong for an adult cat - it was still a kitten - but he'd gone too far now to stop or have it caught and killed, so he simply adjusted the food to be more appropriate for a youngling.

He politely maintained eye contact, though he tried very hard not to slow-blink in trust before the kitten did first, crouching over the food bowl; then another, much larger, adult cat (some kind of leopard? snow leopard?) appeared out of the brush, padding up to crouch protectively behind the kitten, holding unwavering eye contact with Tobirama, and announced, "Yes, you'll do nicely; will you sign our contract?"

Tobirama's jaw dropped, but the kitten gave an excited squeak.