WARNING! Chapter contains gore, cussing, a homophobic slur, and altogether not a great story. But I had fun writing it.
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It stands to reason that desperate people cling to desperately bad things, and Yohio was and is rather desperate.
He remembered how shitty he looked when he surveyed his reflection in a car window. His eyes were blackened by furious fists. His busted lip was still barely healing. His side was burning with the beat down that had occurred a week prior, although it barely registered in his mind - he was used to that pain, in places that no one could see. He had never taken a school photo with any injury upon his face, but he couldn't ever change in the school locker room. If there was a time that his torso and thighs weren't purple and green, he couldn't remember.
He was nineteen then, and secrets had come spilling out of their careful containers. The bruises were bare, he was out; and this new freedom came hand in hand with a terrifying vulnerability. Park benches were hard, cold, and temporary thanks to the constant police presence in nice public areas. He was an unsightly, gangly thing that the average upright citizen, clearly, did not want.
So he appealed to the scum.
On a regular Wednesday, he entered a store that was musty and dark. There was an unusually well dressed man behind the register. He was tall, dark and handsome, almost Yohio's type. But not quite. He was too chipper. Clearly fake.
Yohio would come to know this man as a boss of sorts. At the time he was Tonio, partially Italian, definitely connected. Yohio kind of liked him after some conversations. The friendship they established was consistent, although not overly affectionate. It was mostly a succession of favors to one another, things that were not always alright with the law. It took a while to get used to those things. The specifics were painful to remember.
Yohio grew up just enough that he could almost tolerate living. He would come in every now and again with a weary look, and Tonio would provide a task for him - with increasing urgency - all the way until Yohio was something of a full-time employee. He preferred it to sleeping under bridges.
The sunshine was thick and rough, straining Yohio's narrowed eyes. A dry breeze punched him in the face. Every swing of his leg managed to sting, as if the wounds on his calf were bone-deep. He did his absolute best to conceal the limp while he walked. He knew it was just the venom. He knew he had only been scratched.
But he was going to wring that brat's neck when he saw him.
He used his fucking venom on me.
That realization hurt more than anything. His pant leg was damp red and anyone could see it. He was embarrassed that the altercation had occurred.
The early morning was particularly unforgiving to people like Yohio. He always admired people that could get up at seven in the morning simply because they wanted to. Right now, a morning person would be crafting a masterful breakfast while they sang duets with little Disney birds.
His stomach churned at the thought of breakfast. He could've spent the morning in a soft bed, or face down in a plate of golden waffles, but no - he had to track down a vicious ingrate.
Where had the kid even gone? He didn't follow landmarks, or even street signs. There was nowhere for a young boy to go. In the end, Yohio trudged on like a machine, with no destination in mind. A father and a child looked at him curiously as he peered through the gap of a tall fence.
He decided to ask them, "Have you seen a blond kid with dark blue eyes, gray hood? Uh - about this tall?" He raised his hand to be level with his nose.
They told him, "No, sorry, good luck." The dad said this warily, eyeing Yohio's many piercings and ripped jeans. Not surprising. They were quick to leave, and then everything was silent again. It seemed that few people were walking around at this time.
"What did you say about precious cargo?" Yohio set his jaw, pushing his bleached blond hair away from his sunken eyes. He wasn't expecting a good answer to come from the other side of the counter. He really wasn't. Receiving a phone call at three in the morning had never yielded good results.
"Precious is an interesting word," Tonio sighed as he adjusted his cufflinks, "I want you to look at this." He motioned for Yohio to follow him into a prohibited section of the store. They navigated through the familiar room, with its thin curtains and the smell of sex, booze, and weed. Everything was dark and filthy, with weird lights pulsing in weird places. A rat skittered through the garbage-covered carpet and Yohio cringed hard.
They opened a closet and found two mops sitting in front of another door. This one led to an entirely different hallway, long and narrow. Its fluorescent lights made them look like zombies. The walls were greasy. Awkward and disturbing noises would float from the cracks in almost every door.
Tonio counted the numbered plaques in front of each door, and stopped at the painfully silent #14. He removed the deadbolt and pushed a key into the lock, but did not turn it for what seemed like forever. Then, after a torturous wait in the dingy hall, the door parted from its frame.
Yohio had never seen someone so small. The child was paper thin, ash blond, pocket-sized. He looked up warily, his face half-hidden by his unkempt and greasy hair. The blood on his cheek had not be wiped away yet. Yohio kept glancing back at the vivid mark for the entirety of his visit.
For some reason, Tonio had remained outside in the hall, as close to the door as possible. He remained casual to avoid any suspicion, but Yohio felt that the air was charged differently inside the room. He knew that he could be locked in if something encouraged Tonio's flighty tendencies.
There weren't windows. Only a single hanging light that was low enough the brush his head. The floor was covered in a thick plastic sheet, which thankfully wasn't covered in feces. Four bowls took up one corner of the ground. They were streaked with sludge.
"What is he?" He mumbled as he continued to examine the little boy. He didn't look particularly dangerous. Just...off. He was much too quiet and content in this cramped chamber. Not that Hio hadn't seen weirder things in association with Tonio - he'd just never liked how it extended to children. Unfortunately, Toni was a business man through and through. He put on his car-salesman voice and explained the stakes.
"This little ray of sunshine is #2 on the list. We bought him in bulk with all of his siblings. Worth about...500 U.S. dollars. Of course, the second he's reproduction-capable, he'll be well above your net worth, so...it's one of our cooler investments." Antonio readjusted his tie, smiling broadly. "Whaddya think, Hio? Did we invest well?"
Am I this desperate?
Yohio blinked. The child never did. His pupils were incredibly small slits in the depths of his clear eyes. Every move that Yohio made was being tracked, even the way he shifted when he breathed. How predatory.
"Does he talk?"
"This one? Not really. You shoulda heard his twin sister." Tonio's broad mouth and quick tongue were full of smooth words, painting the moment as normal. It wasn't.
Am I so desperate?
"He's not a human kid."
"Nah." The dark-haired man straightened his tie. "He's kind of annoying to care for. He needs supervision and training, but our go-to guy has already lost a finger to this, uh, innocent angel."
"So you want me to...supervise this thing?" Yohio bristled as the realization set set in.
"Oh, he's practically a little lamb! Trust me, that incident was not caused by any anger or hostility. He was the most obedient of the bunch. You say 'jump,' he'll say - well, nothing, because he prefers not to. He maaaay be deaf. I don't really know. What I do know is that you really resemble him, and I can trust you with sensitive information for extended periods of time. Would you contain him for us in exchange for a considerable wage?"
Of course, there was something in Tonio's lack of words that Yohio knew from years of conversation. He wanted to know why they were putting him up for this job - he'd never been much more than a goon, and he recognized how disposable he could be to Tonio's bosses. Still, that wasn't the most pressing issue in his mind.
"What does he need to eat?"
"Pfff-" Tonio snickered into his well-manicured hand. "What doesn't he eat? Poor fucker left pennies in the toilet. Just use him like a compost machine - throw in egg shells, banana peels, whatever. He's the runt of the litter, you know - the cheapest to hold on to. Which is why he-"
"Tonio," the other man repeated, his voice gruffer, "what does he eat."
So that became the pregnant pause which was one of Yohio's defining moments. He cocked his head at the child and thought of where he had been sleeping when he was nineteen years old. Was cold concrete worse than a plastic cover? What was the darkness of a street compared to this tiny room with no windows?
Are we we really this disgusting?
Nooks and crannies yielded no results, even when he doubled back to look at them. It was tempting to call the little monster's name, but there was more than one person looking for him, so...It was better if Yohio found him quietly.
Soon, the man's heart began to sink. The blue sky was weighing heavily on him, making him light-headed. His throbbing wounds were becoming a distant buzz in the back of his head (or, more accurately, the back of his leg). He should've had breakfast. Or at least water. That brat should have had breakfast. if Len didn't eat soon, he...
Gotta catch him soon.
To catch his breath, he leaned against a pole and swiped a hand over his unshaven face. A couple of birds shrieked up in the trees. They were dark, fluttery things. They looked unnatural in the soft green leaves. They cocked their heads to glare at him, and he knew with some certainty that time was an issue. How long had they been monitoring? ...well, at least he knew that he was close by. Otherwise they wouldn't be here. Probably. He swallowed and went on his merry way, never released from the bird's piercing gaze.
The street eventually narrowed into an alley that ended in a chain-link fence. The brick walls were lined with a fire escape. Long shadows were draped over every sinister corner. A full dumpster blocked almost the entire alley. The only way to pass it was to shimmy against the wall and slide in. Yohio had to stop at the entrance, hit by a smell so thick that he could taste it. He knew it all too well.
The foul, salty stench merely intensified as he staggered into the dark. Yes, he knew. He could hear the wet crunch.
Tonio chose not delve into origins, or really much of anything. He didn't, lie, though. He told Yohio what the child was good for, why he was wanted. Then he provided a set of very specific instructions, including what to do if he noticed he was being followed.
He would never forget the silent, meandering drive, or pulling up to the apartment building in that eerie darkness. They walked slowly, much to his annoyance. When he entered his apartment, he wracked his brain for a new plan. It was his job to house the boy for half a year, and he needed to fix accommodations fast. There was exactly one spare room, which he had crammed with a bunch of junk and dangerous objects.
The boy didn't move a lot. He mostly laid on the floor next to the air vent, where warm air was gushing around him. His eyes stayed perfectly open and active, and his little nostrils shifted as he sniffed the apartment.
Yohio crouched six feet away from him, observing the new creature.
"Hey," he said, "what's your name?" It was a fact which Tonio had neglected to share.
The child, too, did not have anything he felt worth sharing. He smelled things passively, pressing his cheek firmly against the floor. His blue scrubs were covered in gross brown stains, particularly around his chest.
Although he was hesitant to touch him, the little boy didn't seem to mind being touched - at least by Yohio. He was easy to carry. His cheeks were soft and cold and the red mark had dried into something Yohio couldn't wipe off, so he carried the tiny thing into his bathroom and sat him on the toilet.
"Do you know how to use a shower?"
The boy sniffed a green bar of soap, ignorant and content.
"Can you hear me, little man?"
He tapped the kid's earlobe and, for the first time, got a reaction. His narrow shoulders jumped in alarm. His eyes were fiercely focused on Yohio, his pupils constricting to pinpricks in vast blue seas.
The man backed up and put his hands out in front of himself as a barrier to protect his jugular. He had to reconcile the fact that he might lose a finger or two.
But when the child's lips opened, he shared something other than violence: "You smell good." His voice was dry and raspy.
Yohio blinked. The boy did not.
"...I used this." He pointed at the bar of soap, which was met with a curious blue stare, until the curiosity became overwhelming for the boy and he crammed the soap into his sharp teeth.
He snapped off half of the entire bar, chewing twice before he swallowed.
Yohio carefully took what remained of the cleaning product and placed it on a high shelf in the mirror cabinet.
"Have you used a shower before?" He asked, and the little man, somehow more lucid, managed to nod in response.
"Okay. So, you get in there and the shower makes you all wet. Then you squeeze the pump on this bottle and you rub the blue stuff all over you - don't eat it - and it's going to make all these...bubbles."
"Bubbles," the kid parroted.
"Right. And then you get to wash them all off. That's gonna make you clean." Yohio cranked the shower handle on. A stream of cold water shot out of the shower head.
He held the boy back. "It's too cold right now, so you have to wait a minute." Though this earned another curious stare, which made him gulp. He was not prepared to lose a limb.
To his absolute relief, the boy mumbled "bubbles," and waited patiently for the shower to warm up. Yohio took one of the tiny hands and gingerly stuck it into the stream. The boy was alarmed by the temperature and stuck his other hand under the trickling warmth, grasping at drops in a way that reminded Hio of dogs biting at the water that came out of a hose.
Of course he did his very best not to laugh. "Take off that dirty stuff and do what I told you. I'm going to be outside so, uh, scream if you want me." So Yohio waited just outside of the door, hopping from foot to foot. It didn't sound like anything was going wrong.
But there was a very pleased cry of "bubbles," and Hio was doubly relieved by the sound.
"Fuck!" His toe hitched against something round and he flailed into the darkness.
His nose smashed straight into wet asphalt as stars exploded in his vision. He scrambled to get off his face, keenly aware of the startled growl that had come from the other side of the alley.
"Len?" He scraped the liquid out of his eyes. Looking around wildly, he registered the corpse next to him.
A man lay with his arms splayed over the ground, glazed eyes staring into nothing. His jaw hung open as if in the middle of a scream. There was no throat. A few bloody ribbons, maybe, but nothing much more. No bone could be seen. Maybe that was due to the lack of light. The ground around this cadaver was a murky puddle.
"Shit," Yohio snapped around and caught sight of a familiar hoodie. "Len, what did you fucking do?"
The boy looked painfully bored, sitting cross-legged on top of a dumpster. An ugly, unnatural calm had taken over his lean frame, so he sat as if he belonged there. His stained mouth pushed out a sigh.
"I got hungry," he muttered. He ran his tongue over slick fangs.
For a moment, Yohio couldn't see the boy. He saw only the animal, the assailant with its primal, indiscriminate hunger. It was the thing that had attacked him.
"This isn't 'hungry,' this is angry." His voice wavered and he mentally kicked himself.
Calm down. Its just the kid. Calm down. He shook his head profusely, smearing more blood off of his face. Then he clearly saw his stupid, reckless Len, reclining on garbage. His heart slowed down a little.
"Is this what you want to do every time something doesn't go your way?" Yohio threw up his arms, sneering in disgust. "You wanna throw a tantrum and make a mess? Who do you think cleans this shit up?"
"Not you," Len reminded him with renewed ire.
"I can't even take you home now!" the man snapped. The ache of his leg began anew, screaming for his attention in fierce competition with the new pain in his freshly bashed face. He had to make a call and have everything taken care of, but first he needed to discipline-
Len's lips curled into a vicious, pointy smile as he leaned over his caretaker. "Not my problem, fudge packer."
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"Can you hear me, little man?"
.
Yohio looked back up and saw the bright red mark on Len's cheek - he hadn't noticed that he had smacked him straight across the face.
The fact that he wasn't sorry about it at all made him want to puke.
But they didn't say anything to each other after that. Len dismounted with quiet bitterness, and Hio called his 'boss.' They stood on opposite sides of the alley. Anyone within thirty feet could hear how viciously Yohio was being scolded.
"Haven't you been watching him this whole time?"
"Yes."
"Why do you fucking let him run off?"
"Im sorry," he said through gritted teeth, he would take any heat. He just didn't want anyone to find the body. He couldn't afford it. If the police found out, Tonio would straight up disown him. He'd be pinned for the murders, and then Len would go to the highest bidder.
Six years ago, Yohio had asked what Len ate.
In response, he'd been asked, "what would you be willing to feed him?"
He hadn't understood at the time. He thought Tonio was fucking with him. In the end, however, Len's appetite wasn't the biggest problem. The real question was, how many messed up things would he be allowed to do?