Chapter Text
Throat, belly, legs. Grab quick, hang tight, bite hard.
The sound of screams and cheers made his clipped ears ring as he circled his opponent. The metal fence was clanging behind him, drunken bettors shaking it roughly in encouragement. He needed no further encouragement, however. The sight of his owner in the corner of his eye, whip curled tight in his hands, was all the motivation he needed.
In front of him, a rottweiler bared its teeth, the larger-than-average fangs glistening in the dim warehouse lighting. Throat, belly, legs. Teeth, nails, feet. He knew how to win this.
Bare feet took him around the dirty concrete floor, spotted with blood and other liquids he didn’t care to think about. The noise faded, his ears primed only to hear the one sound that counted- that of the starting bell. And then, there was nothing but the rush of air as he surged forward and the heavy, iron taste of blood filling his mouth.
“Whoa!”
Jimin leaped back, safely out of reach of the sharp teeth that had just come snapping his way. “Sorry! Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He held his hands up and shrunk back a little further, carefully watching the hybrid’s body language.
It was a pitbull, clearly. Tall and muscular and with teeth that looked like they could crush Jimin’s well-meaning hand in a heartbeat. He was covered in scars too, pale skin slashed all over with the long strokes of a whip and the deep round marks of a bite.
Ring fighter then. God, Jimin hated people sometimes.
“It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you,” he reassured. His voice took on the most soothing quality it could, muscles carefully relaxed so as not to come off as a threat. The hybrid’s eyes were shining with panic and fear, his body pressed into the shadowed corner of the porch like he was trying to become one with the wall.
Jimin swallowed down his anger and pity and tried to take stock of the situation. He had come home from work like usual, and when he’d heard the noises under the back porch, he’d assumed it was just some pesky wild animal looking for a warm place to stay out of the rain.
Well, he wasn’t totally wrong. The pitbull’s skin was covered in goosebumps, exposed to Jimin’s view by way of the short-sleeved shirt he was wearing. His clothes were dirty and tattered and soaked, his whole body shaking with panic and cold.
Jimin hadn’t really known what he was getting into when he’d ducked under the low porch floor to check out the noise, but this definitely wasn’t it. A stray pitbull hybrid? Hiding under his porch? What was he supposed to do about that??
“There you go,” Jimin said, watching as the tension and panic slowly faded, leaving behind just a heavy distrust. He’d scooted back several feet, barely able to see the hybrid’s features in the near darkness. “It’s okay, I’m a friend. I’m not gonna hurt you.” The hybrid’s eyes narrowed, clearly not agreeing with that statement. It stung at Jimin’s heart to see him so wary.
Slowly, the pitbull’s body uncurled, strong legs moving to prop him into a more balanced position, weight shifting so he would be able to move quickly if needed. Jimin pushed down his uneasiness at the sight. Ducked under the porch like this, Jimin wasn’t very maneuverable, and a hybrid would always be faster than a baseline human. It was in his best interest to just leave and let the hybrid sort itself out. No need to go making trouble.
“You must be freezing. Do you want to come inside? Dry off for a bit?” Damn it, Jimin.
To absolutely no one's surprise, the hybrid shook his head, clearly unwilling to go anywhere with Jimin. Yes, smart. Self-preservation, Jimin, come on! “It’s fine, really. I don’t mind, and it’s certainly better than staying under here.”
He’s an idiot. This was why Hoseok thought he needed a babysitter.
As if to emphasize his words though, it started to rain harder, some of the water dripping through the cracks in the porch floorboards. Already the dirt was growing damp, and it wouldn’t be long until the yard was wet enough to send some of the water flooding down under the porch. Jimin was getting cold, and he knew the hybrid must be miserable.
He still shook his head though. He lifted a lip in a silent snarl, and Jimin had to admit defeat. He couldn’t make the pitbull do anything, much as he might want to. “Okay. Can I at least get you a jacket then? A raincoat to keep you warm?” he compromised.
The hybrid tilted his head for a second, dark eyes narrowed and calculating, before he nodded his consent. Jimin breathed a quick rush of happy air, nodding quickly and shooting the scared stranger a smile. “Okay! Wait here a second and I’ll go get one.”
He knew a jacket wouldn’t really do much, but at least he felt better this way. Jimin rummaged around for a couple of coats, one waterproof and one simply to provide warmth, and after a second thought, stuffed some snacks and a water bottle in the pockets. It was the least he could do.
Stray hybrids were not rare. In fact, the city had a bit of a problem with them these days. They were constantly being picked up off the streets and thrown into shelters, praying that hopefully, someone would care enough to adopt them. Jimin lived in the suburbs, so it wasn’t nearly as common, but that didn’t mean they weren’t still around.
Fighter dogs like this one, though? Those were rare. Rare as in, very few ring fighters ever made it out alive. Either they were killed in a fight, or their owners got rid of them when they no longer were worth the money to keep.
Jimin hated it. He hated hybrid culture in general, even the legal bits, but he really hated the fighting rings. Pitting hybrids against each other like that? It was cruel and disgusting. He grumbled to himself angrily, shaking his head at the unfairness of it all.
“Jiminie? What’s wrong?” A soft voice tentatively spoke up, breaking through Jimin’s angry thoughts and making his head turn toward the doorway. Padding cautiously into the main section of the house was a small cat hybrid, head tilted and ears twitching as he followed Jimin’s voice.
“Oh, Yoongi. It’s okay, I was just, um.” Jimin broke off, unable to decide what to tell the little cat. Yoongi was Jimin’s hybrid. Jimin’s as in, he owned him. The thought of it still made Jimin uncomfortable sometimes, the idea of owning an intelligent sapient being, but that was just the way their world worked. Yoongi, at least, knew Jimin thought of them as equals.
“You smell distressed. And mad. What’s wrong?” Yoongi’s brow furrowed over his cloudy pale eyes, still making his way cautiously across the room. The blind cat couldn’t see what Jimin was holding, but for some reason, the human still made an effort to try and move it behind his back.
“Um, there’s- well, there’s a stray outside. Under the back porch. And I was going to give him a rainjacket to keep him warm.” Jimin sighed. Might as well tell the truth. Yoongi always knew when he was lying.
“A stray?” Yoongi paused in his steps, body going rigid and tense. “What kind?” His thick, dark tail was swinging behind him in distress. Yoongi didn’t like other hybrids. And he hated dogs.
“Um, it- I didn’t really get a close look. It was dark,” Jimin tried. He watched Yoongi’s unseeing eyes narrow, the hybrid clearly not believing him.
“It was a dog, wasn’t it?” Yoongi asked. Jimin sighed and mumbled an affirmative.
There was a tense silence for a minute, the two standing a few yards apart, nothing moving but for Yoongi’s swishing tail as the rain continued outside.
“Well,” Yoongi eventually spoke up. “You better get it to him then. Before he gets too wet out there.” Jimin blinked before a large grin swept across his face. Yoongi’s face was wrinkled in distaste, but he gave him a tiny smile as though he could see Jimin’s own.
“Thank you, Yoongi. I’ll be right back!” Jimin hopped over to give the other boy a peck on the forehead, startling the cat ever so slightly, before he dashed towards the door.
He should’ve known Yoongi wouldn’t have cared. The cat may hate dog hybrids--with good reason--but he would never want one to suffer unnecessarily. Jimin slowed down on the slippery wet steps, turning the corner cautiously as he bent down and slid into the darkness. He had to wait and blink a few moments before his eyes adjusted, and then his heart dropped in dismay.
“No...” he stuttered out, scrambling for his phone to shine a flashlight into the dark space. “No!” He nearly hit his head on the roof as he ran back out, phone shining uselessly into the rain.
There was nothing. Just rain and grass and Jimin’s tiny backyard. Not a single hybrid in sight.
Jimin slumped over, feeling the rain sliding under his collar and leaving cold wet trails down his skin. Rainwater soaked through his shoes and socks as he stared helplessly into the growing darkness. The pitbull was gone. And Jimin had a feeling he wasn’t coming back.