Chapter Text
Xeno curses under his breath as he runs along the deserted streets of Tokyo. Everyone in their right mind has long returned home to avoid being caught in the taifun, sadly that includes most taxi drivers, which is why he finds himself drenched to the bones and huffing like a chain smoker in a marathon. The only comfort he can find in this situation is that the journey from campus back to their apartment takes less than 10 minutes at a brisk walk.
“Stan’s gonna give me an earful for this,” he mutters. The wind is picking up and Xeno has to shield his face from the icy rain that pricks him like needles. He really wishes he could use his umbrella, but there’s no point. It would just turn over or rip apart anyway. This weather really is best avoided, he thinks as he makes his way through the campus gates. There’s barely any light, since all the shops have closed some hours ago, only the streetlights help him find his way. With visibility so low, Xeno almost doesn’t notice the tiny figure that’s huddled up in the entrance of a nearby café. He has half a mind to hurry off but curiosity has always got the better of him and so he moves closer. What he finds is a child, sitting on the floor, arms wrapped around their legs and face pressed against their knees. The child makes no sound, but Xeno can tell they’re crying.
“Are you alright?” Xeno asks but the wind easily swallows his words. “Hey kid! Are you alright?” he calls out, startling the child, who looks at him with wide eyes and scrambles to their feet, clearly flustered.
“I…I’m just waiting for the rain to pass.”
“You’ll be waiting a long time for that, kid. We’ll be lucky if it lets up some time tomorrow. You should go home.” Xeno studies the child, a boy around 12, maybe 13, black hair, greyish-blue eyes, about 160cm, clearly too young to be out here alone in the middle of the night, with or without the storm.
“Yes. I’ll be going right away!” The boy bows hurriedly and storms off and around the closest corner. Xeno can’t say what makes him turn around and follow him. Maybe it’s intuition or another bout of curiosity or maybe, just maybe, it’s that lost look he saw in the boy’s eyes that told him clearer than any words that going home was not an option. Either way, he’s not surprised to find the child pressed against the wall of the café, trying to shield himself from the relentless downpour by staying underneath the edge of the rooftop. A truly pointless endeavor, Xeno finds.
“Hypothermia is no laughing matter, you know? A skinny little kid like you won’t make it out here,” he tells him, startling the boy again. “Come on, I live close by. You can dry off and wait for the storm to pass there.” Unsurprisingly, the boy shakes his head, refusing to move.
“I’m ok. I’ll go home soon,” he tells him, but Xeno shakes his head.
“We both know that’s not true.” Xeno notices that the boy isn’t wearing any shoes and judging by the state of his socks, or what remains of them, he’s walked a good distance. “You don’t live around here, do you? There’s no way you’ll make it home in this weather and there’s no public transport at this hour,” he points out a little impatiently. It’s not like he doesn’t understand the kid’s hesitation, but good lord does he want to get out of this miserable weather, and he can’t do that, knowing he’ll leave the boy behind. Now that he’s spotted him, he feels responsible. “If we hurry, we’ll make it before dinner gets cold.”
That seems to catch the boy’s attention, though he stays hesitant. Truth be told, the kid looks like he could use a good meal. Xeno’s always been lanky, especially at that age, but the boy looks ready to faint. “Come now, I promise you’ll be save with me. I swear it by science.” He holds out his hand invitingly and much to his relief, the boy takes it.
-
“You’re late,” Stan calls from the kitchen. “Made a mistake in your calculations somewhere? I told you just listen to the damn forecast or set an alarm on your phone.” He teases as he makes his way to the front door. “Maybe you should sue CalTech, they clearly didn’t teach you any useful life skills with all that math and stuff.” Stan laughs but suddenly falls quiet when he notices that Xeno isn’t alone. “Who’s that?”
“Found him on my way home. There was no one else around so I brought him here.”
“…you do realize that’s a kid and not some stray cat, right? Did someone see you? The last thing we need is a police investigation cause some nosy neighbor reported the crazy foreigners for kidnapping a child.” Stan grumbles but goes to fetch some towels for the two of them anyway. “What’s your name?” He asks the boy upon his return, but he only shrinks away, clearly scared.
“Ah, I don’t think he speaks any English,” Xeno points out. “What’s your name?” He repeats the question in Japanese. It takes a while for the boy to reply but eventually he straightens his posture and speaks with newfound resolve.
“My name is Gen,” he says, his voice is quiet but steady.
“This is Stanley, my husband, and I’m Xeno. He looks a bit grim, but I promise he’s a softie. Doesn’t speak Japanese, though, so if you need something you have to tell me,” Xeno explains while he dries himself off.
Gen nods and bows his head. “Thank you for having me.”
“You two should take a shower and put on some dry clothes. I’ll see if I can find something that’ll fit him,” Stan sighs and heads to their bedroom. Leave it to Xeno to find some trouble at the other side of the world. He shouldn’t be surprised, it’s what he’s always done and will do for the rest of their lives, and it’s on Stan to make sure things don’t end with either of them in prison. This time, though, he can’t really complain. No way in hell would he have left the kid outside either.
Gen stays close to the door as he listens to the men talk. He doesn’t understand a word of what they’re saying, and he really wishes the bit of English he learned at school would help him out now. Unfortunately, the topic of discussion has nothing to do with describing oneself, asking for the way or buying something, so he’s thoroughly lost. Are they going to hurt him, he wonders? Gen’s heard plenty of horrible stories on the news of children that were abducted and then killed. Or maybe they’ll sell him off somewhere? Gen doesn’t like either of those options but consoles himself with the fact that, so far, both Xeno and Stanley have been kind to him. He knows he should have run away but where would he have gone? The café is the only place he knows. With it being so close to campus, it’s usually open 24/7 and the staff is always very sweet to him and let him stay until morning whenever he runs away from home. Gen’s been doing that a lot recently, he realizes. Surely his parents will be livid once he comes home. If he comes home, he thinks. He’s startled out of his thoughts when Xeno touches his shoulder to get his attention.
“Stan found some clothes for you to wear. Come on, I’ll show you to the shower.”
Gen’s heart beats a mile an hour as he’s led into the apartment and down the hallway. Now there’s no running away, he thinks. Whatever happens, happens, Gen tells himself.
Xeno leads him to the bathroom and leaves him alone with a fresh towel, a stack of dry clothes and the instruction to throw his wet clothes into the washing machine. For a few minutes, Gen doesn’t move. He listens for voices or steps in the hallway, but there are none. Eventually, the temptation of a shower becomes too great, and Gen gives in. The hot water feels heavenly on his skin and it warms him up through and through.
About half an hour later, Gen sits at the kitchen table with Xeno, while Stanley rummages around the kitchen. He doesn’t speak much, only when he’s asked a question, too afraid of somehow making a mistake and having this all turn sour. For now, Gen wants to believe that he’s not in danger. He wants to believe he’s just lucky and found some nice people who are kind enough to help him. These things happen, he tells himself.
“There you go. It’s nothing special but it’ll definitely warm you up.” Stan puts a pot of steaming stew onto the table and then sits down with them.
Gen watches as Xeno serves some stew to each of them. The smell alone makes his mouth water, but he doesn’t dare take a bite before the others. Eventually, he fills his spoon and slowly lifts it to his mouth. He doesn’t want to look like an ill-mannered glutton but he’s so hungry, he just wants to pick up the bowl and devour every last drop. The stew smells delicious but his stomach cramps, making him feel nauseated. Still, he takes a bite and is rewarded by a savory, creamy broth. Warmth spreads from his stomach to the rest of his body and without him realizing it, a few tears start to fall.
“What on earth have you been doing? Did you sneak snacks again?” his mother’s angry voice echoes in his head. “I raised a pig. Look at those numbers! 500 grams since yesterday. You better hope the costume department won’t have to refit your clothes.”
Guilt and shame flood him from head to toe with every further bite he takes. He shouldn’t, he knows, but he’s just so hungry.
“No dinner then. If you can’t wait till mealtime, then you clearly have no need for it.” That’s not true, Gen thinks as he tries to banish his father’s words. He didn’t sneak any food. He wanted to, so so badly, but he didn’t and yet the scale betrayed him. No dinner, the mere memory makes Gen weep. There had been no lunch and no breakfast, and he’s not sure if there had been dinner the day before or if maybe that was just wishful thinking. Either way, the thought of skipping yet another meal felt so unbearable to him, that he found himself crying, yelling, and eventually running away. What a selfish, greedy glutton he is, Gen can’t help but think while he eagerly finishes the bowl of stew in front of him. Surely, he’ll have to pay for that, but right now, he doesn’t want to think about it. His punishment is future Gen’s problem, tonight, he’ll bask in the feeling of not being hungry for once. If he's lucky, he might remember it in the weeks to come.
-
It's almost midnight by the time they’re done with dinner. Stan sets up the couch for Gen to sleep on, while Xeno has him brush his teeth.
“That was a surprise,” Xeno sighs as he joins him in the living room. “No offence, but your stew isn’t exactly to cry for. Poor kid must have been starving.”
“Look who’s talking,” Stan laughs, unbothered by his husband’s remark. He’s right after all. Neither Stan nor Xeno are particularly good cooks. They make do with take out most of the time when Stan is on leave. They didn’t say anything to Gen during dinner and just let him cry and pretend nothing had happened. The boy seemed grateful for it, but it leaves them with a bunch of questions. “You think he’s an orphan or something, living on the streets?”
“No, nothing quite so Dickensian. The clothes he’s wearing are all expensive fashion brands of good quality and in excellent condition. I’d say his parents must be well off to afford to dress their child like this.” Xeno reasons.
“They ought to feed him then,” Stan huffs angrily. “Who cares about all that fancy shit when there’s no food on the table?” The thought angers him immensely and once the couch is set up, he grabs his pack of cigarettes and tilts one of the windows open to have a smoke. Xeno sighs at the sight but doesn’t say anything. He knows better than anyone what a touchy subject this is.
Once he’s done with his teeth, Gen returns to the living room, stumbling along the corridor. The clothes they gave him are comfortable but much too big on him, so Gen has to pull up the legs of his pants to walk, making him look like a newborn fawn taking its first steps. Xeno can’t help but laugh a little.
“Do you need anything before bed?”
“I’m good, thank you,” Gen answers politely as he sits on the sofa.
“Alright then. There’s water and tea in the kitchen should you get thirsty. If you need another pillow or blanket, you can just get one from the couch compartment.”
Gen nods and tugs himself in as Xeno gets up and Stan closes the window.
“Good night then.”
“Good night, sleep well,” Gen says, barely able to hold back a yawn. Once the lights are turned off, it takes barely a minute for him to fall asleep. It was a long day after all.
-
Stan’s always been a light sleeper, even before he joined the military. It takes fairly little to wake him up, so when he hears hurried footsteps in the corridor and the banging of the bathroom door, he’s up and alert in seconds. Stan follows the noise and finds Gen hunched over the toilet, retching as his body forcefully gets rid of his latest meal. The poor kid looks absolutely miserable, his face covered in snot and tears and vomit, so Stan approaches with caution. He grabs some tissues and squats down next to him, waiting for Gen to sit back up.
“Shh, it’s ok. No need to be upset.” Stan knows the boy doesn’t understand him, but he keeps his voice quiet and gentle, hoping he’ll catch on either way.
“I-I’m so-sorry…” Gen sobs as Stan cleans up his face. Only moments later, they’re joined by a yawning Xeno, who had just gotten out of bed.
“What happened?”
“Kid got sick,” Stan tells him.
“I see…does your stomach hurt, Gen? I have some tea to help with that. I’ll make you some, ok? Just wait a little longer to see if you get sick again and then go back to the living room. I’ll be there in a minute.” Xeno heads to the kitchen to prepare a herbal infusion that he keeps around for cases like this, while Stan stays with Gen.
Once it seems as if the worst is over, Stan picks Gen up and carries him back to the couch to tug him in.
“Thank you,” Gen whispers as Xeno hands him the tea. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to do it. The food was really so good and…I don’t know…”
“Don’t worry about it, Gen. These things happen. Today was a very eventful day, wasn’t it? Sometimes that’s enough to upset the stomach,” Xeno doesn’t think for a moment that’s the case, but he lets the boy save face by giving him an easy way out. No point in upsetting him even more. “Try to get some sleep. If your stomach starts hurting again, come and wake me up. I’ll give you some medicine for it then.”
Gen nods and lays down again once the tea is gone. Stan turns off the light as they return to their bedroom and leaves the door ajar just in case.
“So, what happened?”
“Well, my guess is as good as yours. From the little evidence we have, I’d say he overate,” Xeno presents the most likely theory.
“On a single bowl of stew? Is that even possible?” Stan’s not generally a sceptic when it comes to Xeno’s deductions but this time he has trouble to believe it.
“Under the right circumstances, pretty much anything is possible, dear.” Stan rolls his eyes but motions for his husband to go on and explain. “See, the stomach is a very flexible organ that can stretch and constrict as needed to accommodate the amount of food we eat in a day. The average stomach of an adult has a volume between 1200 and 1600 milliliters. This can be adapted, however, for example through the regular consumption of high quantities of food. In this case, the stomach will grow and increase its volume. You see…”
“Fascinating story doc. Can you cut to the point now,” Stan’s too tired for a longwinded lecture but as always, Xeno simply continues where he left off. “As I was saying, the stomach adjusts to accommodate our food intake. If there’s a lot of food, it’ll grow, if there is very little food, it’ll shrink. In Gen’s case, my guess is that his body isn’t used to handling sizeable portions in one sitting, so his stomach overstretched, causing him pain and ultimately reflux.”
Stan lets the words sink in for a moment as he contemplates the ramifications of the situation. He clenches his fists, longing for a cigarette to calm his nerves but the storm has grown to a point where opening a window is out of the question.
“So, what are we gonna do now?” he asks eventually.
“What can we do? We’re not his guardians. The only thing to do is keep him save for the night and see him home tomorrow.”
“We’re really going to bring him back to these careless people? Xe…” This time, it’s Xeno who interrupts the conversation.
“We don’t know the full story. All we have are a handful of observations to base our impressions on. No more, no less.”
Stan huffs angrily and turns off the light. He knows Xeno is right, but his gut feeling tells him otherwise and Stan’s guts have never let him down.
“I don’t like this,” he mutters.
“Neither do I, but unless you plan on abducting him and taking him back to America, I’m afraid our options are limited.”
“I know. Let’s sleep and then talk to him in the morning. Good night Xe.”
“Good night, dear.”
-
The tension in the car is thick enough to cut as the three of them make their way to the address Gen has named as his home. The boy didn’t object at all to be taken back, though the utter dejection on his face almost made Xeno reconsider. They shared an awkward breakfast, which did nothing to improve Stan’s gloomy mood.
They park the car in the driveway and Gen walks up to the door to ring the bell. Within seconds, rushed footsteps can be heard and the door flies open with considerable force.
“Where have you been?!” A young woman, whom Xeno assumes is Gen’s mother, snaps at the boy before she notices his company. Within seconds, her face transforms into a cordial façade. “How may I help you?” she asks, her voice unnaturally friendly. It makes Xeno’s skin crawl.
“Good morning, miss. We happened to run into Gen last night. Due to the storm, we thought it safest to let him stay at our place and just wanted to make sure he gets home alright today,” Xeno tells her. We would have called in advance but unfortunately service broke off fairly early in the evening. I apologize for letting you worry.” A half lie that Xeno is not sorry to tell to ensure Gen’s safety. They actually never spoke of the possibility of calling his parents, mostly because Xeno and Stan forgot about it over the unexpected tears at dinner, but Gen’s mother doesn’t need to know that.
“Is that him?” the voice of a man comes from inside the house and soon enough they’re joined by Gen’s father who, just like his wife, morphs his face from livid to pleasantly surprised in a matter of seconds. Xeno doesn’t dare look at Stan, but he knows from experience that his husband is probably rigid as a board from keeping in his disgust. Stan hates these kinds of people the most.
“These gentlemen found Gen and allowed him to wait out the storm before bringing him home,” Gen’s mother explains to her husband.
“Thank you. We’re much obliged,” they both bow their heads respectfully, a gesture Gen quickly imitates.
“Not at all. It was a pleasure to have him,” Xeno assures them. They exchange a few more baseless pleasantries with the couple and then, much to their dismay, say their goodbyes.
Neither Stan nor Xeno says a word as they make their way back to the car, though Stan turns around one last time just as the door to the house is about to close. There’s nothing to be seen but the second before the door snaps shut, a loud slap echoes through the driveway, ringing in their ears louder than an explosion.