Chapter Text
Humans were used to such oddly grown limbs or a genetic mutation that made one look closely resembling an animal. It was a rare mutation, and there were times where people would shun the person who has that mutation or praise it as if it was a miracle. It wasn't odd, but it wasn't something that bothered a lot of people due to its rarity.
However, this all changed when a family had found their daughter suddenly grew a pair of wings on her back after she had fallen off a building.
Even the medical schools and scientists were stumped when more and more people suddenly transformed into non-human creatures. Despite the hurdle, they all decided to give the new species the name: Heteromorphs.
While some Heteromorphs share the same characteristics of some mythical creatures, like a basilisk or a vampire, there are times where they threw all the assumptions out of the window. What's even more interesting is that the transformation only occurred when a human was in an extreme, traumatic, stressful situation.
Due to the increasing amount of Heteromorphs around the world, every country took the situation differently.
There are few countries that declared the Heteromorphs share the same human rights and should live in peace with the humans, some have passed the laws that protects the Heteromorphs from being attacked and there are many, who have pushed the Heteromorphs as a second-class citizen and have no rights to certain things.
Japan is one of the latter. Despite that they have given the rights to the sudden development of Heteromorphs, their treatment for them was not considered 'nice'.
Youngsters who doesn't understand a single thing would tease the Heteromorphs to the point of humiliation and adults would berate them of their incompetence. Both school and workplace had stressed the Heteromorphs, but they all bit down their tongue, accepted it and moved on.
Even if their treatment was bad, their living conditions were not much of a luxury. The Heteromorphs had learned to accept and in their heart, hatred for humankind grew.
Many said that history repeats itself. Perhaps they were right, after all, who is creating whom?
"Momonga, it is time to wake up." Momonga groaned when he felt his friend shaking him awake from his futon bed. He wondered if his friend knew that he doesn't need sleep and he was awake the whole time, but he decided to drop it as he got up from his bed.
"You know that I don't need sleep and can get up fine." Momonga mumbled, "Being an undead kinda takes it all away."
"Even if you are all 'skin' and bones-which really defeats my point, you can't just laze around in your bed all day. Don't you have work today?"
If Momonga were still a Mortal, he would have pouted, but as his friend stated, he was only a skeleton categorized as an undead. His human needs were gone and even his human emotions had disappeared when he was only a child, making him numb and unbothered throughout.
Now that he thought about it, when was the last time he was still a Mortal? Maybe his friend knows?
Momonga looked over at his old and childhood friend, Ulbert. Ulbert, like him, is a Heteromorph, but instead of a skeleton, he has a head of a goat with white fur running down to his neck and chest. Hooves digging into the old tatami, scraping the aged straw off from the floor as he walked around getting some stuff ready for the day.
To the Mortals, Ulbert is the exact definition of the historical creature, Baphomet, a Demon, which is a rare race. But Ulbert confirmed that he is just a beastman with 'magical' qualities.
''Magical' was far too stretch of a word', Momonga thought to himself as he watched Ulbert took off the apron he was borrowing from the kitchen, letting the dishes flying around the goat, before it all settled into the sink to be washed later.
"I already ate breakfast," Ulbert continued as he put on his suit jacket, "you need to brush your teeth, wash your skull and get changed. It's 7:05 right now."
"7:05 in the morning?" Momonga asked, a slight pitch rose through his voice, "We're going to be late."
"I can tell you're panicking by your voice, Momonga." Ulbert rolled his goat eyes and pushed him towards the bathroom, "Now get. I need to get ready to meet my client."
"Going, going..." Momonga sighed as he picked up the toothbrush, specially made for skeletons like him and began to clean himself for the day. He looked around for some items around his washroom to see if he was low on anything and saw that his favorite bath slime was running out of stock. The undead took note of that and added to his shopping list, maybe even ask Ulbert to get it for him depending on how late he would be at work.
In all honestly, he could not imagine himself living all alone if it were not for Ulbert coming in everyday to check on him. Both have lived in the same neighborhood of the Heteromorphic district as far as he could remember when they have met at the park as children.
Both had been close due to their tragic background, Ulbert having lost his parents from the company's terrible accident and Momonga lost his single mother due to overwork. Both nearly had failed their education, and due to their traumatic loss, both became Heteromorphic at a young age.
However, their comparison ended as to how they lived their life afterward.
Momonga only resented the company that took his loving mother but moved on with his life, working part time to part time, until he worked full time at a company of his choosing. It was not the same company that killed his mother thankfully, since the said company had gone bankrupt 20 years ago.
Ulbert was a rare case of being adopted by a Motrtal who was known as "grotesque sympathizer" by the public. The Goatman did not recite much about his time with his guardian and Ulbert is keen on keeping it that way. Though, there is only two things that Momonga knew about Ulbert is that it was thanks to his guardian that he was able to meet his current wife who is out in the overseas and that he had lost his parents when he was young.
Regardless, Ulbert still held on the resentment to the humanity, even with the best education he was offered.
Momonga understood Ulbert's hostility. The humans are, after all, the reason why they are living like this.
There were many rules and laws that were specialized for Heteromorphs only. Momonga had learned them especially from Ulbert, due to him being a lawyer. The laws were outrageous, but there was nothing they can do since there were no known Heteromorphs working in higher government workforce.
The rules were absolutely simple; if one had transformed into the Hetromorphs, it is the duty of the Mortals to turn them in to the government where they would relocate them to a Heteromorphic community. They do not care if you're a 2-year-old or a 90-year-old, they still can take you away from your only home and dump you in a new location, expecting you to survive.
Another rule is that Heteromorphs are not allowed to keep their mortal name, their old job, or any of their possession. The act was a clean slate, a fate worse than death to many Heteromorphs who had Mortal families and friends, not knowing of their fate.
Momonga did not have any Mortal friends and his only family was long dead. He remembered that his family was extremely poor, a working low class that tried to get by and survive a rising economy. His mother was a light in the dark time of his day as a Mortal, sewing his torn shirt to making lunch for him in early mornings when she had double shifts at night.
He sometimes cursed the great god of time and death, who had taken his young, sick mother too soon in his childhood.
Momonga shook it off, he had no time to dwell in his old memories now.
He finished cleaning his skull and quickly changed to his dress shirt and suit for his work. He rushed back to his room and grabbed his reports and files, then placed them neatly in his briefcase.
Another normal day of a salesman, he mused.
"Momonga, c'mon." Ulbert called out, checking his wristwatch, "We only got 15 minutes before the train comes. Wanna go the Gate way or Normal way?"
"Gate way!" Momonga called back as he adjusted his tie and shuffled on his shoes, "it's not like Mortals haven't seen it before anyways!"
"Damn right." Ulbert muttered as he walked out of the apartment complex Momonga had been living in. He walked further away from the building and opened a portal for both him and Momonga to go through. The Gate was a skill that every Heteromorph has, which was under the range of 'magical' abilities that they possessed.
The Gate was not the only thing that is unique only to Heteromorphs; strength, longevity, quick healing, and nature manipulation are various skills that is unique to each Heteromorph. Those unique sets of skills made Mortals envious of their power, wishing to control it, but the protection act that the government had passed 37 years ago had prevented them from harm.
At least the Hetromorphs were relieved for that protection, but that does not mean the reality would be that simple and easy to accept. they are not safe from discrimination, there will always be people who can refuse service for them, there will always be people who blames on the heteromorpics for everything they did not do.
It was just how society works.
Momonga sighed internally when he thought back on the 'magical' skill of Gate. While it was known to the public as 'magical' the science were hesitant to categorize it as 'magic' since there are many scientific ways to explain how the Heteromorphs would be able to manipulate the energy around them. He can imagine how baffled the Mortal scientists are when they discovered multiple skills the growing race could use to their advantage.
He blinked back to the reality when he saw the entrance of the train station.
"Shit," Ulbert muttered, "we only got 9 minutes. Get ready your card."
Momonga pulled out his train pass from his pocket and quickly rushed through the train gate by tapping his pass on the reader. Both sped up the stairs where the train would make a stop. Ulbert quickly looked back at his wristwatch and saw that they are on time, with at least 3 minutes to spare.
The train station was jam packed with Heteromorphs and Mortals waiting in straight line. Despite that both share the train station, they are still split with the signs reserved for Mortals and Hetromorphs only.
Even the train is split, showing the discrimination between the two races.
"I'll see you later tonight?" Ulbert asked as both waited in line. Momonga thought for a while and shook his head.
"No, I think the Mortals will make me go overtime..." He sighed, watching the train made a metal screech and watched as the door opened, revealing the other passengers exit out of the train.
Ulbert made a tsk sound, "Of course, why am I not so surprised... Those dirty Mortals should at least appreciate that their company is still standing..."
"It's fine." Momonga soothed, as they entered in the train. The station rang to signal the final warning of the train leaving and the door closed behind them. "Besides, it's not like this is the first time they've done this."
"Momonga..."
"Stop it," He groused, "it's not like the government or the committee will do anything about it. Even your law firm refused to do anything about it either."
Ulbert flinched at the truth and dropped it, but his golden eyes still shined with hate. Momonga does not blame him, even though Ulbert had proved the Mortals that he can achieve things, he barely made any impact to Japan due to his racial status.
Both remained quiet throughout in the train ride and went their separate ways in different stops. Ulbert got off early due to him meeting the client at his office and Momonga's workplace is two more stops later.
"Ah," Momonga suddenly remembered as he got off the train, "I forgot to ask Ulbert to go shopping for me…"
Momonga quickly took out his mobile phone and quickly texted Ulbert to ask if he could go shopping for the undead. The shopping list was short, and there's no way that Momonga is going to end his day without a slime bath. A quick notification from his friend had made him relax and go to work without any worry.
He looked back his phone to see that he only has half an hour to get to his workplace and quickened his pace. He felt the sun's warmth and transferring heat of Mortals and Heteromorphs around him, but since he is an undead, he wasn't uncomfortable and entered in his workplace with no problem.
The company he's working for had a ratio of Heteromorph to Mortals by 1: 34, which made him stand out from the company. This also made him a shining target for harassment and humiliation from the peers.
But he stood strong, even though he's an undead and doesn't feel any resentment or embarrassment, doesn't mean he was hurt by their insult. There are times where he would feel emotionally exhausted by this treatment and would just head straight to bed, feeling apathetic.
In worse case scenarios, Ulbert would to ask him for the name of the Mortals who had upset him. This actually happened once, when Momonga accidentally blurted out a Mortal's name and next day, the same Mortal had disappeared without any trace. Momonga vowed to never utter any of his colleague's name to Ulbert as he was sure Ulbert had done something to the poor Mortal.
He quickly went to his spot and paused when he saw the horrid mess on his table. The table was full of junk, empty bottles, ripped papers, probably a day old lunch box, as well as some odd liquid was found splattered all over his workspace.
It was no brainer on who had done this to his table.
He heard the Mortals stifling their laughter at his misfortune. Momonga said nothing as he took out a plastic bag out from his briefcase and cleaned up his space. As he cleaned away the empty bottles and trash, he found there was more underneath the whole junk.
Scratched words like "freak" and "monster" was written everywhere as well as phrases like "Don't come to work you freak" was there as well. Momonga sighed at such childish antics and tied the plastic bag together.
He grabbed his briefcase again and took out a disinfecting wipes with Lavender smell and cleaned the table with care. He took out another plastic bag and threw the dirty cleaning wipes away as he cleaned his section.
In few minutes, his table was clean, with the exception that it was scratched with words. Momonga didn't bother with it, since he believed that it would be a waste of time to ask for a new table. Even if he did get a new table, the whole thing would repeat again.
After waiting few more minutes until the starting time had happened, Momonga carefully took out his files and paperwork and set them at his 'output' basket. At the same time, the boss of the section entered in, greeting everyone as he sat onto his chair, waiting for his employees to come up to him with either questions or completed files.
Momonga waited for another minute as others placed their completed work in the Boss's 'input' file. After the line had dwindled Momonga picked up his files and placed them in the same basket. He felt his boss's glare at him, but he ignored him and went back to his work.
He looked at his schedule today to see that he had a meeting with another company, which won't start in about two hours. Momonga quickly picked up his phone and called them, reminding them of the meeting they have in two hours. After making a call, he checked his briefcase for any missing items and with a nod, he walked out of his company and back to the train station where he'll take few stops to meet with the other companies.
Here in Tokyo, it's a central place of business and culture, with various rich history of outside influence that made Japan the most unique country of the Earth.
But even that Golden Age was short-lived.
Businesses are overworking their employees like pack mules, new cultures over run the old, and the Government had become corrupt. Rich had become richer and poor struggled to survive through this highly techno-advanced corrupted land that was known as Japan. Many had confided to either sell their body or work overtime to help survive in this dark world.
The Rise of Heteromorphs was one of them 130 years ago.
And Momonga sometimes wonder when this will end.
-.-
After the reports and files being turned in, Momonga wasn't surprised when his boss called him up.
"You, Skeleton," His boss grunted, pulling out a huge pile of paperwork. "I want you to review over these files for me. I want these done tonight."
Momonga wanted to tell off the Mortal that his name was not Skeleton, but he bit back his non-existent tongue, accepted the files that exceeds his head and went back to work. He felt the sun's warmth going away as he flipped through each file and adding more information through the computer. He can hear timecards clicking and the Mortals' laughter as they left. The building was getting dark, leaving only his computer's screen as a light source.
He sighed, again and leaned back to stretch, despite himself a skeleton, and counted the unfinished files he still has left to go. He thought back on what Ulbert had said to him and wondered if he was right about how Mortals should be appreciating his work.
To be honest, Momonga had fixed the company's problems more than once, fixing their budget, correcting his co-worker's files, and organizing their paperwork. He wasn't much for a praise, since he was used to be in the dark, but now that Ulbert had mentioned it, he wasn't sure anymore.
"Ah, sorry. I thought no one was here." Momonga jumped when he heard a new voice and looked over to see he was not expecting.
The Security Guard had a silver helm, wearing the usual security guard hat and garment. Momonga wasn't exactly sure on what the Mortal was wearing, but one thing he was sure about was that he wasn't supposed to be working late.
"Sorry, I wasn't expecting to stay here very long." Momonga replied, quickly picking up his unfinished files and placing them into his briefcase "I'll leave in few minutes, just give me..."
"Ah, no it's fine. You can continue working... besides, it's not like the Mortal securities would care if I report anything to them..."
Momonga froze in his spot, the only people he knew to say that word was only Heteromorphs. So, could this Security Guard be...?
"If I'm thinking what you are thinking, then you are thinking right." The Security Guard continued, "I am a Heteromorph, like yourself. Hello, you may call me Touch-Me."