Chapter Text
It was funny that the only thing she had ever consistently liked about herself was her voice. It was exactly what got her into the mess that had become her life. Of course, at the time she had no way of knowing. No understanding of how unfair the world was for those like her. Hybrids.
Early life before the lounge was a blur. Even her parents' faces had faded, lost to time now. But she remembered that they loved her. It was a feeling of fullness that she remembered quite well. Her mother would hum to her a tune so beautiful it made her throat tight and her chest full to bursting with emotion every time she heard it. What she wouldn’t give to live in that moment for the rest of her days, the vague memory of being wrapped up in loving arms and hummed and rocked.
She had been small when she was separated from them, too young to understand at first. It was scary, yes. It was confusing, sure. But at the time, the stubborn kernel of belief that they would find her was absolute.
Instead, she was put into a crowded, dark place. What she knew now to be a shipping container. She had been unlucky enough to be smuggled, one of thousands of hybrids who fell through the cracks.
Trafficked illegally from her country of origin. Lots of other hybrids were there too, agitated, confused, despondent, crying. All the emotions were too much, so much to process for one little girl, lost and unsure of where her parents were.
She sat pressed in a corner, hands covering her ears, and humming to herself. Over and over. It didn’t matter what happened around her, so long as she got to hum. It soothed her, and unbeknownst to her, it was soothing the others too.
Soon people began to request her humming. When a baby cried. When someone was having a bad day. When the crate was too quiet, dark, and lonely. So she did. No one ever asked for anything more from her than that.
In all the uncertainty that her fragile life had become, she had a purpose that helped her feel less helpless. When the humans would open the crate and slowly go around from cage to cage, tossing in rations, she got quiet, clammed up. For them, she couldn’t manage a hum if she wanted to.
Sometimes, they didn’t come to give them food. They came to take hybrids away. Sometimes one at a time. Sometimes in groups. But when they lifted the cages from the crate and dragged them out into the world beyond, they were never seen again. She couldn’t help but wonder when it would be her turn, because clearly it was a matter of time. She was young, but she understood that much.
Time slipped away, whether weeks or months or longer she wasn’t sure. The darkness was disorienting in the same way it was a comfort, thanks to her hybrid senses and bat’s nature.
“You haven’t hummed in a while.” a voice had whispered to her from beyond the bars one day.
“Huh?” Startled, she had sat up, blinking until her eyes adjusted and she saw an adult female hybrid, cradling a baby to her chest. She might have been some kind of big cat; since she had only been with her parents in their little community, she didn’t know much of other species so it was hard to tell. Her cub had been all but a newborn when she first noticed them. Now he was big enough to sit up a little and turn his head from side to side and look around.
“I guess no one’s asked that of you. So many of us have already left…”
“Where do they go?” She’d asked naively, crawling closer and pressing against the bars.
The big cat’s face was pitying, “I don’t know,” she sighed. “I only pray it’s nowhere horrible. Silly as it is for me to say, I hope it’s somewhere they can find happiness. I hope that for you too, little one.”
“I want to go home.” she revealed. “I want my mama and papa back.”
“I know, little one.” the older hybrid soothed. “I know.” Moving herself closer to the front of her cage as well, she offered a soft smile. “Would you like to learn a new song?”
Unable to sate her curiosity, the tiny young hybrid had agreed.
It was the first song she could remember learning by heart that had words. And from the minute she opened her mouth and sang it, everything changed. There was a power in singing, a light even in the darkness, and a beauty even in the ugliness all around them.
The woman, she’d learned, was a tiger. Her name was Eun-Sook, and her baby was Junseo. And she grew to love them. Eun-Sook talked to her in the gloom, teaching her how to spell words and explaining things she didn’t know. And whether Junseo was babbling or crying, her singing could always calm him down, even when his own mother’s couldn’t. That was when Eun-Sook told her she had a very special gift that she should always try and hold onto.
The next day, the humans came again, and just like they sometimes did, they came to take someone away. She never thought it would be Eun-Sook. She cried and shook, reaching futilely through the bars. “It’s alright,” the tiger said softly. “Keep singing. And remember that even if we are not human, we will always be people.”
That was the last time she saw her, and for a while, the last time she sang. Although it was what Eun-Sook had wanted, she found it hard. Her reason to sing was gone. Then on a day when she missed the tiger and her cub terribly, she found the words of the song slipping out unbidden, right as the humans came in to deliver meals to the remaining hybrids.
He was confused at first, looking around to determine where the small voice was coming from. She was afraid, having never let the humans so much as hear her hum before, but she kept it up, trying to be brave for Eun-Sook and Junseo. For her parents, too. She didn’t stop even when the man came and stopped directly in front of her cage, or when they made eye contact. She only stopped when the song ended and she had no more notes to carry. He studied her, saying nothing, but his face was full of surprise and…excitement?
The next time hybrids were unloaded, she was among them. After so long without sunlight, the bright, clear day was blinding. She cowered in her cage, hands pressed over her eyes, hearing voices discussing things in a language she couldn’t understand.
She had no way of knowing it yet, but her voice had changed her fate, though only slightly. She was still to be kept captive, a caged songbird.
Some might consider her lucky. Of all the places she could have ended up, she ended up with him. Gao Hàoyú, owner of Kǒngquè, soon to be one of the most visited lounges in Beijing.