Author's Notes: See chapter one for disclaimer and explanation.
Desperate Child By Annie-chan Chapter Two: Guardian AngelThe first thing he felt was warm. Odd. He hadn't been warm in this fashion since before they came. The boy opened his eyes slowly. There was a light hanging from the ceiling, and he didn't want to blind himself.
He was in a simple, yet adequate, bed. The room was small and undecorated, but managed to pull off a cozy feel. He sat up and looked down at himself. He started. He was clean! He hadn't been clean for months! The clothes he wore were not the rags he had last remembered wearing, but a simple white long-sleeved shirt and some slightly faded jeans. The clothes were a tad big on him, but that was due to his almost nonexistent muscle tissue. He brought a hand up to his head. His hair didn't feel greasy anymore, and it was cut short, apparently to get rid of the impossible snarls. He looked around the room, but all he could find was the hanging light, a bedside table, and a small window looking out over a featureless desert. Who had done this? Where was he?
The door opened. Fear suddenly gripped him, and he dove under the bedclothes, shuddering. God knows what whoever just came in wanted to do with him!
He heard a chuckle, and then, "Come on out. I'm not going to hurt you."
The boy peeked out. The voice was soft and soothing, but had an odd sense of power behind it. He felt compelled to obey. He beheld a man standing in the doorway. He was very tall, and his body had that strong, sleek look that warned others to be wary of a fight with him. The man's hair was short, platinum blond, and looked almost white when the light fell on it just right. The boy looked at the man's face. It was angular, but not pointy. The lips were curved slightly upwards in a faint smile, and the eyes were the deepest blue the boy had ever seen, in the way of eyes. The seemed to be able to stare right through to your soul, and the boy suddenly had the sensation of being naked.
In his hands, the man held a small bowl of water, and a slightly larger bowl of what looked like soup of some kind. As soon as the boy saw that, he felt confused. First of all, he hadn't eaten properly for months, but he didn't feel a ravenous hunger start up as soon as he saw the bowls. He was hungry, and a little thirsty, but not nearly as much as he expected to be. Secondly, here was someone who seemed to be showing him kindness. Wasn't everyone only out for their own good?
The man walked into the room and kicked the door closed. "I had a feeling you were awake," he said as he set the bowls down on the small bedside table and sat down on the edge of the bed. "You look like you have some questions."
"Ye'," the boy replied. "W'ere'm Ah? Hoo're yew?"
The man smiled slightly. "We'll get to that later on, little one."
"Oh," the boy said. "Den…whah don' Ah feel so 'ungree az Ah thot Ah shud feel?"
"You've been out for about a week and a half," the man replied. "I didn't want you to die on me, being so emaciated as you were already, so I managed to get some water and broth down your throat every day. I didn't want to choke you with anything solid."
"Oh," the boy said again, not really understanding some of what the man said (what in the world did "emaciated" mean?!). "Yer th' wun dat cleen'd me uhp, too?"
"Yes," the man said. "I was a little surprised that you didn't wake up once you hit the water, but you were pretty close to dying. I don't think anything could have woken you up at that point." He picked up the bowl of broth and handed it to the boy. "Drink this. I'll get you something more filling than broth later on."
The boy took the bowl and drank some down. When he lowered the bowl for a minute, as to not choke himself, he looked hard at the man. The man was watching him with a neutral expression. The boy was almost in awe at the sight. Even with no expression, this man looked like no other person the boy had seen in his life. The skin was pale, smooth looking, and free of blemishes. The face was not twisted in an expression of hate, fear, or revulsion, like everyone else got when the looked at him. The body was slender, well-toned, and sinewy. There was an air of monstrous strength coupled with almost feline (whatever a feline was, the boy had heard that expression somewhere) grace. The being in front of him didn't seem human. No other human ever achieved this level of physical perfection. Most amazing of all, the boy got a distinct feeling that this man looked like this completely naturally.
A sudden memory came to him. His mother had told him and his sister stories about wondrous creatures that rarely made themselves known to humans. They were stunning to behold, the pinnacle of beauty, almost too beautiful to look upon. They sometimes helped a poor soul in need by showing them kindness and sometimes saving their lives, if their lives were in danger. What were they called again?
"Mista'?" the boy asked after another drink. "Ahr yew un angel?"
The man seemed to start. He obviously hadn't expected that question. He looked at the boy and smiled. "I guess you could call me that." The boy seemed satisfied with that answer, and took another drink of the broth. "I should give you speech lessons," the man said after a minute.
"Whut?" the boy asked, a little surprised. "Whah? Yer th' wun dat tawks fuhnee, mista'."
The man smiled again. "You are speaking with a heavy regional accent that most people in the world consider informal," he explained. "I should teach you how to speak more like the majority of the population, so you're better understood."
"Huh?" the boy asked. "Ev'rybudy 'round 'ere tawks lahk me. Dey undastaind me juhst fahn."
"I'm taking you out of this place," the man explained, "to where people speak very unlike you. Thus, the speech lessons. The reason I'm taking you out of here is that I believe you and I can help each other greatly."
"Whut?!" the boy exclaimed, sounding scared. "W'ere're yew takin' me?!"
"We'll get to that later," the man said. "First, tell me your name."
The boy didn't answer. He was suddenly very scared.
The man leaned forward a bit, staring into the boy's eyes. "Tell me your name," he repeated, his voice leaving no room for argument.
"Legato Bluesummers," the boy replied, speaking more clearly than he ever had before. He was mesmerized by those fathomless pools of blue.
The man leaned back again. "Good." He let the boy called Legato finish the broth, then spoke again. "You and I can help each other very much, like I said. We have a common enemy. I have been watching you for months, and have come to the conclusion that you hold within you a deadly power, a power you can use, if properly trained, to take revenge on those who took from you the things you held most dear. I know what you are going through. The one I love and care for the most was also taken from me by these heathens, and I have to get him back before he is completely corrupted and destroyed."
"Wh-whut d'yew meen?" Legato questioned shakily. "Heow d'yew know whut happ'n'd t'me?" Memories were beginning to force themselves to the surface again, and he felt tears welling up in his eyes.
"As you lay unconscious and at death's door for those first few days, I looked into your thoughts. I saw what they did to you, to your family. They tormented you in the worst way, young Legato. You deserve revenge. You deserve to make them suffer for what they did to you, for no other reason than you lived in their 'territory'."
"But," Legato stammered, trying to keep from crying. "B-but…ev'rywun dat did dat iz ded! I saw deir bodeez! Sumthin' kill'd dem!"
"You did," the man said, and ignored for the moment Legato's stunned expression. "You killed all those directly responsible for what they did, and you did right. But, they are not the only ones. Their entire race is guilty. They are out only for their own good, killing and destroying all in their way for their own pleasure! They are slowly murdering my entire people, forcing them into a life of slavery, their only purpose in life to supply the humans with the energy they need to live their miserable lives!" The man's voice was getting extremely bitter. He suddenly clasped Legato's hands between his own. "Let me train you, Legato. Let me teach you to use that power within you. Let me train you, and you will take revenge for what you suffered, for what your family suffered. In return, I want you to help me bring my brother back to my side. Help me break the humans' hold on him, and then, a better world can be made!"
Legato was weeping openly now, unable to stop his tears. A sudden, violent loyalty to this man had sprung into existence in his young, tortured soul, along with an all-consuming hatred of the vermin responsible for inflicting such pain on both him and the man before him. "Yes!" he cried, and could say no more before he broke down completely, screaming for his parents and sister. He felt the man pull him into a strong embrace, and he wept brokenly against the man's broad chest, his frail body shuddering with the force of his cries.
They stayed like that for several minutes, until Legato could finally calm down. The man, who had the tearful boy pulled up into his lap, set him back on the bed and handed him the bowl of water. "Drink this. You need some water after a cry like that."
"T'ankyew," Legato said, still sniffling a bit. He took the bowl and began to slowly drink the cooling liquid down.
The man watched him for a minute. "Legato…that's a beautiful name," he said quietly. "Do you know what it means?"
"Uh-uh," Legato replied, almost done with the water.
"It's a musical term," the man explained. "It means 'played in a smooth manner'." The man grinned. "I get the feeling you'll live up to that name. You have a certain look about you. I bet you'll grow up to be quite the lady-killer."
Legato blushed as he finished the water. Young as he was, he got a little embarrassed whenever he heard stuff about being attracted to the opposite sex. His father had always told him, with a knowing wink, that someday he'd understand what all the older kids in town were up to when they hugged or kissed with each other. "Ah'v' neva bin wun fer myoozik," Legato said, instead of voicing his current thoughts.
"No matter," the man said, that slight smile back on his face. "I still like that name."
"Huh," Legato said, digesting the meaning of his name. It was his name. He had never thought of it having a meaning other than representing him. A sudden thought occurred to him. " 'Ey, mista?" he asked. "Whut d'Ah coll ya?"
The man watched him for a minute, then smiled again. "My name is Millions Knives," he replied. "But, you may call me Master."
To be continued…Author's Notes: There you have it: my version of how Legato was recruited into Knives' service. I hope I didn't make Knives OOC near the end. He never seemed like one to compliment someone's (especially a human's) name. But, he probably didn't want to scare the poor boy by seeming too cold. If you've interpreted Knives' declaration that he loves and cares for his brother the most out of all living things in the world as twincest…go ahead. I don't care which way you interpret it. Just don't send me any big long spiels about what you think it was and why you think it was what you thought it was. Okay? Okay. Oh, and if Legato's speech is driving you up a wall, I don't blame you. I've read the book Their Eyes Were Watching God (by Zora Neale Hurston), and almost all the dialogue in that thing was like Legato's speech. Actually, I don't think it was so bad in TEWWG, to tell the truth, and that book still drove me nuts. He won't be speaking like this any more. Those speech lessons he'll be getting are going to work wonders on him, and he'll acquire that oh-so-sexy way of speaking we all know and love (well, you'll have to imagine it, as it's kinda hard to convey in written dialogue)! In Japanese and English, I might add! :P Anyway, let me know what you think of this in a review or at mangareader@hotmail.com, onegai shimasu!
