Hitoshi lets himself be pulled toward the pen, gazed fixed on his shoeless feet. They don't like it when he looks at them. Bunch of hypocrites, if anyone asks him. These things spend all their time watching him. Even feeding time has been made into an attraction.
Cold hard pinchers tug at his mask, making sure it won't come off. Several pinpricks in his neck, cold traveling his veins, and then he's sat down on a thin mat in front of a long line of excited aliens. His handler arranges his limbs, the chittering growing in volume when it crosses his legs. It pats him, slap his back and shoulders in mock affection, turns his head left and right, to prove to the growing audience that he's harmless, that he's tamed. Hitoshi doesn't even try to swallow the saliva starting to gather in the corner of his mouth and dripping inside of the mask, wetting his chin. Useless endeavor, when he knows from experience that his drool will get there no matter his efforts. His face is already going numb.
The firsts in line, a crab-like alien clutching the leg of its bigger counterpart, comes closer. There's an exchange of money over him while his handler chitters about rules and places they're allowed to touch. No one wants a repeat of the first and last time someone tried to poke his eyes.
The smaller crab gets nudged forward, its uncertainty obvious. The handler pushes him down on his side, pins his wrists to the ground. There's chittering over his head, and then a hard claw pressing between his shoulder blades. When he doesn't react—his pride is too numb from the cold sedative coursing through his veins or the molasses apathy that's landed him here when he'd decided he'd stop fighting in that ring—the claw grows bolder and reaches up to his neck, up to his hair. It pets him, and Hitoshi lets his eyes close to blink, before opening them again with à slow dragging pull. He could attack it, right now. The sedative hasn't taken full effect yet.
He won't. The ones that visit him are often children, smaller versions of the things keeping him here. They don't know better and very few actually hurt him, even fewer do it intentionally.
There's a click, its picture being taken next to him, and then it's the next in line's turn. More chittering, more coins being exchanged, getting pet. It blurs together, melts with yesterday and the day before that and the day before that, until something hauls him to his feet. Enclosure time.
It's right next to the petting area, a transparent box with no grip or foothold. They place him in his 'bed', a sad cramped dome with a thin rubber mat stuck to the ground on which he lays. It would have been great to sleep in, if it hadn't been for the transparent viewing dome that took half the space and allowed heads to pop up and look at him. He's pretty sure they aren't supposed to tap on the thick glass, but no one ever enforces the rule so it isn't like it really matters anyway.
He watches through bleary eyes as little antennas with black seeds at their ends—eyes—look at him, before quickly disappearing when they realize he's not moving.
It's so very boring here. The same routine, over and over. The aliens don't even have the decency to let him sleep in peace; the lights in his enclosure open and close at their own rhythm instead of Hitoshi's, and while he might not know that much about zoos, he's almost certain they should have environments that match the animals' natural habitat as close at possible. His circadian rhythm's all out of whack, and while he didn't use to sleep that much back on Earth, at least he knew what time of the day it was. Here, with the sudden harsh lights and the sudden darkness, alongside the time lost through the petting area, the disorientation drags his mind through water, only letting him resurface when the shore isn't visible anymore, leaving him with no anchor or landmark.
That will teach him to do the right thing. Refusing to fight at the giant squirrels' command had led to this, but Hitoshi can't bring himself to regret anything. At least, he isn't forced to kill anyone here. The food's slightly better too.
Another head pops up in the viewing dome. It's a different alien from the usual ones, one with fur instead of the hard shells encapsulating everyone here. Its looking—always looking looking looking at Hitoshi—with its black eyes, tilting its head to the side. Hitoshi usually ignores the aliens, but this is new, and he doesn't feel as nauseous now, so he keeps his gaze fixed on it and tilts his head in return.
Its fur puffs out comically, and slowly, it brings one paw up. Hitoshi does the same—its reactions are funny, it doesn't matter too much if it thinks he's just a dumb animal—snorting when its eyes widen.
Its paw comes up to press against the glass separating them and suddenly, Hitoshi isn't having as much fun. He closes his eyes, hoping it gets the message. He's tired. Go away.
He keeps them closed, until thirty seconds have passed, before peeking. It's still there, a tablet lifted up. He stares dumbfounded at it, as the alien slowly brings it down. It took a picture of him.
Red burns his cheeks. Hitoshi thought he was over feeling shame, but the action makes him irrationally upset. In a fit of anger, he brings his fist down on the dome, grinning at the way it startles away. He bares his teeth, more of a threat than a smile. Hitoshi's scary, he could kill anyone here if he wanted. It better remember that. He waits, fist held ready in case it comes back, but it's gone. Good.
He had a blanket before. He would drape it over the viewing dome, only taking it away to swaddle himself in it when the zoo was closed. They took it away after the first two days, only giving it back at night, until they eventually forgot.
Time passes, Hitoshi can't say how much, until the sound of the entrance wakes him. He doesn't want to get up. He isn't that hungry anyways.
But like everything, feeding time is a show and Hitoshi has to perform. His hiding place lifts up, folding onto itself until Hitoshi is left in the open.
A small crowd is standing on a hanging platform. The furry alien is there. Now that he sees its body, Hitoshi realizes it looks feline-like, if felines had extra limbs and a cancerous looking growth around their neck.
The zookeeper lowers its long stick, waving the food attached to the end in front of his face. Taunting him.
Hitoshi gives a tired swat in its direction, and it evades his hand. The zookeeper starts explaining something, or maybe it's cracking jokes. Lazy Hitoshi, good for nothing Hitoshi. Can't even catch his own meal.
The next pass comes too close to his face. He jolts back, slamming his hand on the stick. The berries fall out, and he stares at them, laying on the ground. There's only two.
The zookeeper ties another treat on the end of its stick, hands it to the alien crab next to it. It's leaning away, inching the stick so slowly, Hitoshi could fall asleep before it ever reaches his grasp.
It's not like he can blame it for how cautious it's being. His mask isn't even tied properly—the crabs forget more often than not about it, barely making sure it's in place when he's pet—and the platform looks easy to climb, the barriers even easier to break. The only safety measure they truly have is the collar that can be remotely activated to inject a sedative, but he thinks he's developing a tolerance to the drug they use. It takes a lot longer to knock him out.
And then; a push, a scuffle, an ill timed stumble.
No one moves for a breath. The fallen kid crab stares right up at him.
A second, and then pandemonium erupts on the platform, clicking and snapping and chirping as they all realize what happened. The keeper throws the food basket on the other side of the enclosure, as far away as it can from the baby crab.
Hitoshi lunges.
(If he were to be asked later, Hitoshi will blame it on the isolation, the drugs clouding his mind. A temporary bout of insanity.
In truth, when Hitoshi's eyes had crossed the fallen child's, he saw mercy in the shape of a panicked keeper and a plasma gun.)
The baby crab doesn't even react when Hitoshi picks it up, locked in place by fear. Even if it did, his cage has nowhere to hide. The aliens made sure of that.
The clicking over him grows louder, the aliens outside have noticed that something is amiss. They're banging on the walls, trying to get his attention and distract him.
Their terrified scuttling makes him smile in vindication. It only makes the frenzy outside worse.
"Who's scared now? Who's fucking scared now?" He taunts them by biting into the air over the alien in his hands. They all jump, pinchers snapping quickly. Hitoshi laughs and one of them drops its food on the floor. He looks into the crowd and finds one of the handler. It's clutching a small device to its face. "Come on, come pet me, you never hesitated before!"
The handler pulls out the remote for his collar. He growls, frustration and desperation in his voice, when they mash the button to inject him. "No!"
He squeezes his eyes and waits, but nothing pricks him. He opens one eye, then the other, when all he sees is the handler pressing the button again and again.
Hitoshi let's out a disbelieving sound that turns into a laugh. "What's the matter? What's wrong? Can't control your pet anymore?"
He pretend-bites the alien again, to revel in the fear around him. The snap-snap-snap of claws grow in terror. Hitoshi can't help but laugh again, so hard he struggles to breathe. He's only brought out of his fit by warmth trickling down his arms. When he looks down, his grin slides off his face.
The baby crab's limbs are folded onto itself, forming itself into a small ball. Its antena-eyes are tucked away in the safety of its shell, barely visible through the opening. It's terrified, pinchers occasionally snapping together as it trembles. It wet itself.
"I—" Hitoshi stares at it, regret overtaking his previous glee. It's smaller than even the children who pet him, its legs barely seem strong enough to support its weight. He whispers to it, rocking it slightly. The foul wetness is easy to ignore when faced with the overwhelming need to comfort it. "I'm sorry. It's okay, I'm not actually going to hurt you. It's okay."
Outside, the keeper is still clicking, gesturing at him. Everyone but the keeper has evacuated the scene.
He's about to put the baby back down, when the keeper bangs on the cage's wall, making the gesture for 'down'. As quick as the vengeful thing in his chest left, anger rushes through Hitoshi. He rips the face mask off—the straps bite into his skin before snapping—and throws it against the wall.
He hugs the baby to his chest, careful to support it well. He doesn't actually want to injure it, even if he's too big for his own skin right now and just wants to hit the walls until something breaks.
He just wants—he wants something, far and unattainable, but surely this will bring him closer to his goal, right? It has to, he can't be stuck here forever. He thought he was over it, though he had accepted his fate, but the promise of freedom is too tantalizing to ignore.
He snarls, loud and clear, at the dumb keepers and the dumb visitors and the dumb aliens that plucked him from the street as if he was a fruit to be taken and consumed away.
"Fuck you! Fuck all of you!" he screams, words almost incomprehensible, all gargled and hoarse from misuse. "Let me fucking go! I swear, I'll kill all of you, let me OUT!"
Crabs in armor have congregated outside the enclosure. They're talking to each other, having a nice chat while Hitoshi's losing his mind. He strides to the edge, picks up the muzzle by the broken strap, and brings his arm down with all of his force.
He does it once, twice, panting hard through the fury, months of being alone and showcased like an animal coming out into pinprick time.
He hits the wall again when the keepers don't even react, and then. Freezes for the second time today. Everyone outside has fallen silent, eyes turned to him in horror.
A long crack runs down the transparent wall, about the size of Hitoshi's forearm.
He blinks several times, in case his mind is playing tricks, but when the line-weakness-freedom doesn't disappear, exaltation fuels his next hit, and the next, and another, always aiming for the fracture, laughing in between thuds as the wall becomes cloudy with lines, starts denting with pieces flying out.
Finally, the wall shatters into a thousand twinkling shards. Hitoshi covers the crab with a hand, in case a piece falls into its shell. He steps out into the open.
They have to do something now. They have to.
But when he steps over the plastic-glass, there's no one outside; while he has been consumed by his goal to smash the enclosure, everyone ran off. Strangely, only the feline alien has stayed. "Let me go and I'll give it back!," he shouts at it.
It churrs something, gestures slow, as if Hitoshi's a wild animal. Hitoshi chooses to ignore it. He needs to find an exit.
He takes a step toward where he can hear a panicked crowd when the collar whirs and needles get jabbed in his neck. He grabs the metal in horror. He should have tried to rip it off earlier, embedded hooks or not. "No, no, no—"
Hitoshi stumbles toward the feline. It has the remote. "Just let me go, right? Tell them to let me go."
His face is wet, despair and regret all at once. Cold seeps into him. He staggers, vision blurring. There's still some of the drug leftover from the petting. He tries to grab the alien, but it only takes a step back.
His legs crumple on the next step. Hitoshi barely has the time to twist so the baby lands on top of him.
The baby leaves his limp hands, snatched as quickly as when Hitoshi picked it up. A shadowed silhouette falls over him, furred and with too many limbs.
He's so tired. So tired of all of this.
Hitoshi doesn't fight when dark creeps over his vision.