The boy released a disgruntled noise as his captor gripped his wrist, dragging him through those rain drenched streets, lit dimly by strangely alluring red lights. He was soaked through, and if he had not been making such unattractive cries, one could not tell that he was sobbing.
"Be quiet! I'll chop you up and feed you to the dogs in the street!"
The bones already tightly held within the owner's hand were given an even fiercer clamp, the boy taking warning from that hostile tone, even though he didn't recognize a single syllable in that foreign dialect. Sounds were choked behind his tongue, as well as those sullen tears, although his lips still bent heavily of discomfort.
They entered a large building that was made of three layers and looked to be extravagant, points upon the roof converting to nearly gorgeous fountains and large golden characters written in handsome strokes upon the building's brow. Immediately, the boy pondered their meaning, examining each little dip the writing's flow, but was left with steady dissatisfaction as he was dragged inside.
Even as they moved into the first level, the boy was not given any sort of relief upon his skin. He was pulled throughout each confusing corridor as a nuisance of heavy bricks, walking quickly within hallways and trudging those dirtied feet through a flight of stairs. They continued through more corridors and yet another hateful collection of risers, and the poor confused boy still found himself choking on ill formed sobs.
Upon the third floor, the boy was lead down a final corridor, its inhabitants only pretty screens on either wall, with shadows seeming to dance behind them in a numerous amount of poses, a figure preparing itself for a night far from home, two statues speaking, a silhouette sitting upon a comfortable mat and smoking a sort of pipe. Upon the last portal, the screen was slid open and the boy was nearly tossed inside.
"Arthur Kirkland! What in the world do you think you're doing?!" A man dressing in lovely silks turned to contain himself from any curious eyes, and glared at the intruder, his face the very texture and hue of a flawless pearl. His shoulders, somewhat rounded and delicate were slightly exposed from the sort of dress he wore, posed as if he captivated an ink painting. Crimson accented his eyes and shapely mouth, a little veil of ebony falling against the frame of that perfect oval, most being secured upon the crown of his head into an elegant bun.
For a moment, the boy's sorrows were stolen and a sort of calm overcame him. It was if he was regarding something divine. His regard was adhered to that feminine conundrum standing so near to that pretty window…Not one word from that entrancing mouth was comprehended, yet, he found himself hypnotized.
"Look! I've found a Japanese boy! I need you to take care of him."
"How do you even know he's Japanese? He looks like any other child to me…And why have you come into my room? Can't you find someone else who isn't occupied?"
"Well, no. I don't. And besides, you're actually descent with children." The man looked down at the beauty drunken child, eyes speaking of a sinister idea. "How is he Japanese?"
The poor creature was giving a powerful reprimand to the head and fell right to the floor, a string of angry Japanese syllables coming from that hardly grown body.
"Don't you hit him!"
"Well…He's Japanese, isn't he?"
The lovely man's well formed brows bent under weighty upset, elegant fingers kissing his temples as an exasperated sigh left his stomach. "Alright…Alright. He's clearly Japanese, and I'll take care of him. Just leave me be, and announce your presence the next time you come barging into someone's room. I was dressing."
"Oh, Yao. You make it seem like I should care." The blond man adopted a smile upon his lips and left the room to the angered beauty and stunned youth.
The Japanese boy, with silent tears staining his cheeks stood there and once again fought back ugly noise, this time to impress that mystical figure before him, holding eyes so drowned in sympathy.
"It's alright little one…I'm not going to hurt you…" His tone soft as unused cloth, absorbing any existing fear. "Do you speak Chinese?"
With what little knowledge of the tongue he had, he at least understood that question, alongside very few others. The Japanese boy shook his head.
"That's alright…You'll learn. What's your name?"
"Kiku…"
That odd man smiled, coming closer to that small body and kneeling before him, one of those long sleeves, composed of the most expensive sort of cloth wiped the pain from his eyes.
Kiku took in a breath, his nerves beginning to calm immediately, even though this gorgeous person, so confusing to the eye, had his hand all about his tiny frame.
Even as those fingers untied the knot keeping his kimono closed, he remained in an odd state of relaxation, somehow well aware of the other's kind intent. He would become sick if he remained in soaked fabric.
The damp cotton was peeled from his shoulders as a snake would abandon its skin, and he was left only with a loin cloth and shivering skin.
"I'll be back. Luckily my little brother is about the same size you are…" Bright lips curled into a comforting smile, and the owner exited the room.
In the lovely man's absence, Kiku took in the chamber, which also seemed to be full of little anomalies. A European style bed sat within the corner near a round window currently shut due to the unpleasant weather. Paintings with striking advertisements written upon them featured that very same doll he had seen only moments ago. They looked as posters one would see announcing a theatrical performance, having the subject wrapped in fantastic costumes and radical make-up. A silken dress hung about one of the walls, its lovely feet sweeping gently upon the floor and its body adorned with complex flowers. An extravagant chest lied in the corner behind him, embellished with rolling patterns and dyed sweet red.
Kiku simply devoured this universe of gorgeous things, pondering their complexities within in a heavy mind.
A little jolt entered his nerves as the door opened, and that enchanting figure returned with a large cloth draped over his hand and a small outfit hanging limply upon the other. A boy was at his side, embellished in clean white with short hair forced into an ill grown bun upon his crown.
Suddenly, the Japanese boy realized his nudity and flashed furious crimson.
"Yao, who is that?"
"His name is Kiku. I believe he's going to be living with us now, so be certain to be kind to him."
At the sound of his own name, the boy pondered the titles of the two before him, and in awkward, broken Chinese he asked, "What is your names?"
With those beaten syllables, the elder grinned. "I'm Yao, and this is my little brother, Hong." The child was wrapped within the cloth as the small set of clothing laid at his side.
"What kind of name is Kiku?" The question held no intention to cut.
Yao ignored the inquiry a moment, far too amused with drying the red fleshed boy. How strange it was how he stared, his skin so very shy…Yao couldn't believe his doll like qualities, with hair similar to that of a kokeshi, and an admirable visage. He was quite the little treasure.
"It's no wonder why he brought you here…You're going to be beautiful." An elegant finger slid upon Kiku's cheek, those lovely eyes so accentuated by red becoming deep wells of sorrow.
"Yao…"
"He's Japanese."
"Can he speak Chinese at all?"
"No…" Hair was ruffled by that dampened fabric, and finally clothes were donated to his barren limbs. "No…But he'll learn quickly."
"When he does…can I be friends with him?"
"Of course…" A pair of trousers was held before the Japanese boy and with caution he filled either leg with his little feet, having the waist pulled around his stomach.
"I think he'd enjoy that." Kiku's outfit was adjusted, and as the donor rose, he stole the little creature with him, hands immediately clipping to his neck and utter surprise.
"How do I look?" Yao turned to regard his brother, who simply offered a nod.
"Wonderful."
The owner of that fantastic appearance placed his unexpected gift upon the soft sheets of the bed, which was nothing but a total enigma to those tiny fingers. However did this man come across such a contraption?
"Please behave yourselves while I'm gone." Yao removed a comb from one of those generous sleeves and brushed quickly through Kiku's messy strands. Again, with sadness breeding within his stomach, he addressed his sibling. "Be certain…that if he runs, you tell someone. Stop him, at the very least. Mr. Kirkland will have my head if I let him get away…He seemed to forget I had things to do…"
A bobble of the head.
And as Yao left them to one another's company, their mouths became barren and their eyes full.