Chapter Text
The servants finally caught the little food thief, a child of barely eight years old, all skin and bones. The leader of the gang lifted him by the collar, and Ibara nearly choked on his own shirt.
“Mangy little mutt!” After a few kicks, they tossed him out on the street.
His head hit the sidewalk, and his ankle hurt like hell. In his hand clutched the little bit of bread he managed to wrestle from the mess. Spending his last bit of energy, he stuffed the bread in his mouth, and swallowed without bothering to chew. Before him, the world spun and begun to fade to white.
On the other side of the wall, a voice rang out, “What happened?” It sounded like another child, with voice like fogged glass.
The servants answered, “The thieve has been apprehended. We taught him a lesson and tossed him out. Mangy little brat, stealthy, tho.”
When Ibara came to, the owner of that voice sat beside him. Fushimi Yuzuru sat on a tall stool, his feet couldn’t even reach the ground. Despite this, with his expression stern, back straight, and cloth immaculately clean, he still cut an intimidating figure.
For a moment, Ibara thought he must have died, sent to the level of hell specifically reserved for disobedient kids, and was facing a tiny version of lord Yama. But the feeling of hunger and pain brought him back to reality, and he notice this tiny lord Yama had a mosquito bite on his left cheek.
What a poser, Ibara thought, but upped his guards. If all his years on the street has taught him one thing, it is that one must be careful around other humans, because humans are more complicated, more evil, and more savage than any other beasts. Ibara rose with a start, but bumped onto the nearby shelf. In panic, he tried to steady himself by planting his legs apart, but the injury on his ankle betrayed him, plunging him back to the floor.
This series of antics made Yuzuru chuckle. Yuzuru wasn't someone who laughed very often, and was confused by why he felt the urge to do so at that moment. The little spark of joy trembled in his throat, like water he couldn’t swallow down. Finally, the laughter died under Ibara’s glare. Yuzuru hopped down from his high stool.
“Where do you think you’re going? You passed out from hunger earlier.” He pushed a plate of food towards the other child. “Have some food first.”
Despite his suspicion for the sudden charity, Ibara had no choice but to accept. He was hungry, and the food smelt like heaven. As Ibara wolfed down the meal, Yuzuru stood by his side and just watched. “Is it really that good?” He asked, voice filled with a sincere curiousity.
Sheltered brat. Never even starved before. Ibara rolled his eyes and didn’t bother explaining. He slept in Yuzuru’s room that night. While he was unconscious, this kid must have cleaned him and gave him a change of cloth. He even prepared a bedding besides his own bed for Ibara to sleep in. The bedding was furry, and Ibara couldn’t help but want to scratch the back of his neck.
Ibara woke up by the middle of the night and tried to sneak away, but Yuzuru caught him before he even reached the door. This kid didn’t seem much older than himself, but he was a lot stronger. Yuzuru sacrificed an old shirt and tied Ibara’s wrist to a rod in his closet, using three dead knots. With a click, he locked the closet door, and calmly returned everything Ibara nabbed to its rightful location.
Wallet, biscuits, and a book of fairytales. Yuzuru raised an eyebrow at the direction of the closet. He didn’t expect this kid to be into childish lies.
Ibara, for his part, was kicking up a storm in the closet, making banging noises on the wooden walls, like panicked heartbeats, uneven yet full of life. Yuzuru returned to his bed and closed his eyes, satisfied.
The next morning, Yuzuru opened the closet door to see all his clothes a mess. As a neat person, he felt like he should have been angry, but it was impossible to be mad at the image before him. Ibara had exhausted himself in his anger, and had curled up to sleep in a nest of Yuzuru’s cloths.
Yuzuru shook him awake. “I’m going out, what would you like for lunch?”
The sleepy expression disappeared in an instant, replaced by rage and caution. Ignoring Yuzuru’s question, Ibara shouted, “Let me out!”
Yuzuru ignored this. He asked, “No preference? Then I’ll bring you whatever’s convenient.” before locking the door.
Ibara screamed, and began kicking the door like crazy. Yuzuru turned back just like he wanted, but only to stuff a towel in his face before shutting the door again. Frustrated, Ibara sagged within the closet, before dosing off in rage once more.
This routine repeated itself for a week. Everyday Yuzuru asked Ibara what he wanted to eat. Everyday Ibara complained about his stolen freedom. It was as if neither of their words were reaching each other.
In truth, both of them had an answer to the other person’s question, but neither of them knew how to say it aloud. Ibara didn’t know the name of the sweets he’d picked up from the ground outside the bakery, so he didn’t know how to answer Yuzuru. He couldn’t just say “I want the round, sweet, white thing,” it would have made him sound stupid.
Yuzuru’s answer was a bit more complicated. Why did you save me, and why are you locking me in here? He wondered about that too. That day, he saw Ibara passed out by the sidewalk, a scab forming on the wound on his forehead. A thin trail of blood ran over the scrunched up eyes, the thin nose, the pursed lips, disappearing under his chin, dying the collar red, like someone had took a knife and ran it across the boy’s face.
Yuzuru knelt next to this curled up body. Pain made Ibara broke out into cold sweat, dampening his forehead and making his bangs stuck to his face. Yuzuru ran a hand across the boy’s forehead, and his thumb brushed across the trail of blood, smearing it across.
Ibara still had enough consciousness to be alert at a foreign touch, then. Instinctively, he bit Yuzuru’s finger. His brows were furrowed, and his breath were erratic. He should have had no energy left in him, yet his teeth sank deep. As the pain hits him, Yuzuru gave Ibara a sharp slap, until Ibara passed out again.
Ibara’s teethmarks were red around Yuzuru’s thumb. It throbbed in waves, like the beating of a heart. Yuzuru stared at his marked finger, and then, without another word, he dragged Ibara in through the back door.