Blah
After about six minutes of driving around the busy streets of Shibuya, I still hadn't the luck to find the kid. I've passed the local Subway-Station three times debating whether to go in or just ask people who are coming out if they've seen him. My cousin Defoko told me that her friend was almost a victim of being molested by one of those Train-Perverts. If it wasn't for her stop being next ... well ... let's not get into details about what the results may have been; but after hearing that story I worry of Yuma being a victim as well. Shit, Chikans go after anyone these days. You can be a deformed monster-mutant and they'd still try to molest you.
Pulling up to a curb near the train-station I rolled down my window to ask a couple of girls a question. "Excuse me; have any of you seen a guy with short, pink hair? Looks about the height 5'11." I tried giving a description till they both looked at each other in confusion. "Um ... he resembles a cat sort-of-" "Oh! I think he's talking about that one guy who plays his guitar down there." The brunette pipped up as her friend nodded in agreement. "Well there's a guy down there that always play on his guitar every-night. Haku here tried to tell him to go home because it gets dangerous at this time of night in the subway; and now that Chikans go after `Anyone', it makes it even more dangerous for that boy." She had then took a step back and pointed towards the tunnel way to towards the train. "If you'd like we can show you to him right quick." The brunette offered.
Right when she said that I had turned the ignition off and stepped out the car. "Please do so." I then followed behind the two women as we walked down the steps.
`Performing in the subway? That's absurd. Far as I know from reading the passage in that one novel about the street life, people who performs an instrument usually tells that-that person are either struggling with housing income or are homeless. Though I highly doubt that Yuma is homeless.' I stopped in my thoughts as I heard the sound of three chords being strummed in a soft tone.
Looking to my left, there sat the pink-head on the cold tiled floor of the train-station. The case to his guitar was open on the side of him with a mixture of change and dollars inside. His eyes slowly began to droop in exhaustion as he stopped playing. ...he looked so tired.
"Hey, kid. This man wanted to see you." The woman named Haku grabbed his attention to us. Soon as she did that, his eyes snapped open and fixated on me with surprise. From them going wide, he quickly averted them towards the ground. "Don't be embarrassed. Even though we're not sure what business he has with you he at least took his time to worry about you. It's hard to find people who does that for others; they'd usually go off screwing you over and find someone else to do the same." She squatted down and lifted his head back up to face us.
Soon as she said those words my heart throbbed in an aching pain from the memory of Luka. `Screwing you over and find someone else to do the same.' The words echoed throughout my head in thought. "Um, thank you women. I'll do the rest from here." I had then bowed slightly to them and moved over towards the kid. `It's a shame to see him sitting on this filthy floor. ... This filthy area filled with perverts and people who doesn't give a damn about you. As if someone left him here to rot.' My foot kicked his guitar case closed as I grabbed him by the arm to stand. "C'mon." I spoke to him as I pulled him and the case out of the station.
Noticing how he's starting to panic he shakily asked, "Wh-Where are you taking me?".
`Why am I being overly concerned over this kid? Is it that I'm not cold like the others who walk mindlessly around these filled streets? ... Is it because I'm not like "Her"?' I thought silently to myself as we came towards my car.
"I'm taking you home." Were the words I lastly said to him. His face easily told how shocked he was once he saw me shoving both his guitar and case in the back-seat. `I'll make sure to tell Kaito about this kids situation. Maybe we'll both come up with something to help him out.
Once we were both fully strapped in, he quietly pipped up a soft `Thank You.' Soft, Gentle, Fragile it was. The tone in his Thank you spoke beyond his words about how he's a stray. ... A stray fighting for some type of warmth each night to keep living. Did he stray away from his parents or did they shun him away to become one? ... I've no clue. I'd like to know more about this Neko. This kind who wandered into my life today.