Hello everybody. I have a few things to say before we start the chapter. First of all, yes, another interlude. There's going to be one every five chapters, although they're all pretty important to the plot, so don't worry about that. Also, the boy this is centered on is not an OC. Let's see if you can guess who he is~
Oh, and lastly, if any of you read the awesome story by my beta reader Kay Hau, '+Anima meets Teen Titans' then you should know that she started this really cool spin off story for it, entitled 'Divergence'. Since I doubt people go into that section on a regular basis, I just wanted to help her get the word out, since it's a totally awesome story so far. You should all go read it once you're finished reading and reviewing here ;)
Interlude 2 - Street Rat
"Get the hell out of here, you urchin!"
A young boy couldn't hold back a yelp in fright as the street vender threw a rather large sized rock at him. Very effectively it sent him scurrying away from the cart he'd been pathetically attempting to steal some food from. Once safely out of reach, the vender not bothering to give chase after the grime covered child, he skidded to a halt. Inside one of the many side alleys that made the outskirts of the capital city feel like an endless maze, he leaned up against one of the walls to catch his breath.
"Damn it… why is this so hard?" he muttered to the empty street, pulling a slightly worn wrap around his head farther down. It might have been a brilliant shade of purple at one time, but had faded to a dirt and dried blood covered grey. The only thing it seemed useful for doing now was concealing the thick and curly brown hair underneath.
Sighing in aggravation, the boy desperately tried to keep himself from just giving up then and there. Living on the streets was not something he was used to. Being called an urchin and having adults throw rocks at him, even less so. It wasn't like he had much of a choice anymore though. There wasn't anywhere else for him to go.
Pushing himself off of the wall, he started walking down the alley, no actual destination in mind. He just needed to find some way to get some food. It'd been nearly two days since he last ate anything. That meal hadn't exactly been the most substantial thing in the world either. So far off from what he would eat before this whole mess started.
Once again he tugged at the cloth almost instinctively, keeping his head down as he went. No one looked twice at the filthy street rat of a child however. Not even if they happened to notice the distinctive black markings on each of his hands, a clear brand for the world to see exactly what he really was.
A +anima. It still left him quivering on the inside whenever he thought about it. He quickly shook his head to keep himself from falling into the unpleasant memories.
Maybe it didn't quite leave him quivering only on the inside.
He couldn't let himself think about any of that right now though. He still needed to find something to eat, and then hopefully another place to sleep for the night. He probably wouldn't be able to find his way back to the shop with the porch he'd slept under the night before, but that wasn't too important. Even if he could, he didn't want to stay in the same place two nights in a row anyway. Staying in the same place only made it more likely that the owner would end up seeing him and chasing him off, just like the vender had.
He just had to try take things one day at a time, and maybe he'd be able to get a hang of this after a while. At the very least, in his state no one would ever suspect that he really was -
"A +anima prince, I'm telling you! They say he was saved during the capture of the palace!"
The boy jerked to a stop at what he'd overheard from the other side of the street, ears he wished weren't quite so sensitive flicking. He wasn't entirely sure when he'd come out onto a more main road instead of the alleys he'd been on before, but didn't bother to think about that as he started over to the two people carelessly chatting.
"That's crazy! You're serious?" the other man asked the first, who nodded excitedly. The brunette could tell that he was about to go on, but wasn't quite willing to sit back and listen.
His mind was easily going a mile a minute, desperately hoping that was he'd clearly heard was somehow wrong. A +anima prince. That just had to be wrong. The entire monarchy had been killed in the revolution. If they did keep one of the princes alive, he doubted they had his best interest in mind. So what had they meant by 'saved'?
There was no way they'd ever keep a prince alive to begin with, right?
And, besides, the only +anima prince he knew of was…
"What did you say?" he interrupted, not quite able to hide the frantic urgency in his voice.
The two adults looked him over, clearly surprised by the disruption from a street boy. The first man spotted the black markings on the boy's hands, and he nodded in understanding of why the urchin would want to know. The boy didn't bother to hide them, as all +anima paraded about freely since that time. He nervously toyed with the knot in his shawl as he waited for an answer.
"Yeah, when the palace was taken over, one of the princes they found was apparently a +anima. From what I've heard, he's working with the revolution to help set up the new government," he explained.
The brunette +anima stood gaping at them, just barely able to recover enough from the shock to speak.
No way... there was just no way…
He… He would never...!
"But all the royals were killed during the seize! Why would they let him live?" he asked, to which both men gave him an odd look. By now, the other had also noticed the markings on his nervous hands, as well as the fact that he wasn't wearing a collar. They glanced at each other for a second before looking back at the child.
"Didn't you hear me? He's a +anima. He knows firsthand how dreadful those monsters all were, why they all needed to die. He's on our side," he explained to the boy, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Maybe he was even secretly helping out the revolution all along!"
With barely hidden reluctance the boy managed to nod, almost unable to comprehend what he'd just been told.
"O-oh. Right. Thank you," he mumbled, not able to keep himself from stuttering or his voice from cracking. Keeping his eyes down, he immediately started away from the two without another word. The adults watched him go for a few seconds before shrugging off the strange happening and continuing on with their conversation.
Once again the brunette pulled the fabric wrap forward instinctively as it had started to inch back ever so slightly from the speed he ran along at. He didn't even know where he was running to. He didn't have anywhere to go, but he just… he just needed to be alone, so that he could think without any distractions. Try to figure out the meaning behind whatever it was he'd just been told.
Eventually, he found himself panting and exhausted alone behind one of the older rundown buildings on the outskirts of the city. There wasn't anyone here to bother him, just rotting wooden boxes and trash.
One of the princes had been spared. He was even helping them now. He had maybe been helping them all along. The very people who had killed every other royal, had slaughtered t-that prince's family without a second thought... he was helping! Planning out the future of the country, setting up a new government, no doubt gaining much more power and respect than any +anima, let alone a disgraced transformed royal, would have ever had under the old system.
They let him live just because he was a +anima. Because he was on their side.
A strangled cry of frustration and anger erupted from the boy, who lashed out blindly at one of the musty old boxes. It didn't simply fall to the ground though, instead slashing open and splintering all over the place where he'd hit it.
When he pulled away from the crate, each finger was tipped in thin, needle sharp claws. Brown fur, a lighter shade than his hair, covered the rest of his hand and about halfway up his arm. His other hand was the same as well, but now balled up in a very tight fist, which quickly managed to pierce through his skin and bleed slightly. He didn't even notice, instead glaring down at the shattered remains of the wooden box as if it had personally destroyed everything he'd ever cared about.
Breathing heavily, he kicked out at the shattered old box this time, ignoring the pain and wood shards getting lodged in his bare foot.
He also stubbornly ignored the watery sheen glazing over both his eyes, as well as the fact that his headscarf had fallen down around his shoulders, revealing rounded ears with the same light brown fur as his arms on either side of his head.
A +anima prince… He was practically trembling from the rage coursing throughout his body. Someone who turned a blind eye to the fact that the people he was working with and supporting were murderers, just so he could get a little bit of power.
A traitor.
He dropped to the ground, not caring about the dirt or pieces of splintered wood, unable to stop a few of the hot tears from leaking past his eyes. He didn't make any move to try to wipe them away. They weren't tears of sadness. He was well past being sad. They were tears of overwhelming emotion, of unbridled fury.
Clawing at the compact dirt, he glared up at the skyline. It was barely visible from where he was so far in the outskirts of the town, but he could just manage to make out the familiar outline of the palace in the late afternoon sky through his tears.
The +anima prince, the traitor, Myrrha, was in there.
The little brat he'd once called Husky. The quitter who'd tried to kill himself, whose own damn fault it was that he'd turned into a +anima in the first place! The one who'd once had the king himself eating out of his tiny hands, who'd shined as brightly as any star, but crashed and burned when the stress became too much.
To think he'd actually once liked that disgusting traitor! That monster! Had felt pity for him, even!
That Myrrha would side with someone that killed, not just their father, not just their brothers and sisters, but their mothers. If there was one person he could've sworn Myrrha loved, it was his mother, Queen Marein. Guess that love wasn't as strong as the traitor's yearning for the crown. An ambition the brat had once insisted meant nothing to him.
Liar.
A twisted smile, fueled by the same rage as his tears morphed onto his young face. It looked horribly out of place, the smile of one who'd had the world ripped from him starting to crack plastered on a boy not a day older than fourteen.
He'd been at a loss for what to do with himself since the attack, simply struggling on the streets like a common urchin. Just trying to take it one day at a time. A new sense of purpose surged out through him now though, a single goal hanging in front of the child like a beacon of rightful justice. Of revenge.
He was going to kill that traitorous little half-brother of his if it was the last thing he ever did.
So, did you figure it out? Haha, probably wasn't very hard, especially with my track record. I just have to say though, yes, that does say brown hair, and no it's not a typo. All shall be explained in upcoming chapters.
Well, I hope you liked this chapter, and as always, please review and let me know what you think.