Chapter Text
Kim always felt he was a bit different from the other children his age. A bit more calculating, a bit more prone to violence, a bit more… off. Out of place. He had accepted this position long ago, even preferring it compared to spending time with such… inferior, immature beings.
The first incident happened when he was 8. He had been walking home from school when he saw a small animal lying in the grass. After getting a closer look at it, he quickly realized that it was dead cat, likely having been hit by a vehicle driving by. He crouched down next to it, staring at its pitiful, broken body, its blood staining the grass around it. He reached down, grabbing a small piece of meat from it—some sort of muscle or something.
He tore it from the body, eyeing it hungrily. He glanced around, looking for any watchful eyes, before bringing the piece to his mouth. He chewed it thoughtfully, making a face at the strange taste and texture. It wasn’t bad , per se, but it was definitely weird. He swallowed, not even sure why he had eaten it. Shrugging, he wiped his bloody fingers on the grass and continued his way home. Kim didn’t yet realize how sick he should’ve been from eating something like that.
———
The second time happened a few months later. He was outside, near a park somewhere in town. Kim never cared enough to pay attention to where it was. He had wandered away from his parents, searching for… something. He didn’t really know what he was looking for either, only that he hadn’t found it yet. He stopped near a tree, feeling a strange urge to climb it. Maybe he could get a better vantage point from up there.
He dug his fingers into the thick bark of the tree, using it for purchase as he made his way up the tall trunk. He grabbed one of the large branches, heaving himself unto it. He panted, looking down at the ground. He must have been at least a few meters high, but he didn’t feel any fear of falling. Leaning back, he saw a small bird, preening its feathers on a high limb. It was as if all his senses had narrowed in on that one bird. He found it.
Kim quickly crept up the tree, trying to stay out of the bird’s sight. When he thought he was close enough, he lunged at it, grabbing the thin branch with one hand and reaching for his prey with the other. He narrowly missed it, letting out an irritated growl. As he was about to swipe at it again, the branch snapped, leaving him to plummet straight down.
He yelped, hitting several branches on his way down. One particularly hard bash knocked the wind out of him as he scrambled to grab hold of anything he could. He finally got a grip on one branch, clinging to it like a lifeline as he panted. His heart beat heavily, pumping adrenaline through his veins as he tried to focus on his surroundings. He glanced over at his parents, glad they hadn’t noticed anything. For once, he was thankful to his annoying older brother for his constant, ever-growing need to be the center of attention.
After he had caught his breath, Kim grit his teeth in frustration and separated his body from the branch. He turned around, beginning to ascend the tree once again. His hands had been rubbed raw from the bark, but he was determined to catch that bird.
He saw it, preening its feathers again. Taunting him. Mocking him. It pissed him off to no end. He got closer this time, deliberately making sure everything he did was perfect. As soon as he was within reach of it, he pounced, wrenching the poor bird from its branch. He grinned in triumph, holding it tightly to keep it from escaping. Once again, the instinct to eat came to the forefront of his mind. His grin disappeared as he snapped its neck, sinking his teeth into its underbelly. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as he tore the skin away, chewing the flesh carefully. Unlike before, he relished in the taste, satisfied with his catch.
Once he had his fill, he began to climb back down the tree, carrying the bird with him. With only one blood-slicked hand to use, he slipped, barely managing to contort his body and land on his feet before he hit the ground. The impact sent a wave of pain through his legs, his knees buckling underneath him as he groaned. He heard the bird’s body fall somewhere nearby as he lay on the ground in agony. He didn’t question how he hadn’t broken anything even as slowly stood up on his shaky legs. It had felt natural to him to be able to twist his body in such a way, even if no human child should be about to do so.
He made his way over to a nearby bench, not even realizing his unconscious use of his abilities. He left the bird by the tree to rot and later scare a small child who happened upon it. He hid the ache in his muscles when his parents took him home. They didn’t need to know about his hunt.
———
Throughout the years, several similar incidents occurred. Of course, Kim always kept these things to himself. When he was 11, he had eaten a small mouse that had snuck into his house through a hole in the wall. At 13, he had eaten a snake he found in his backyard. And now, at 14, he had just began eating a rather large hawk he had caught.
He tore into it with his claws, feasting on its tasty flesh. Its blood stained his fur as he—wait. Claws? Fur? He didn’t have those. He wasn’t supposed to anyway. Kim looked down at his arm, studying it curiously. How strange. When did that happen?
He narrowed his eyes, experimentally willing it away. Sure enough, it disappeared, morphing into his regular, human arm. It made an odd sound, almost as if it was sinking inside his body. He tilted his head, remembering the cat he ate and all the other events thus far. Had he been doing this the entire time without realizing it?
M
Examining his arm again, Kim tried turning it into the wing of a bird. He heard his bones stretch and pop as they rearranged themselves to his wish, recoiling at the disgusting sound. His repulsion was quickly replaced by curiosity as he began trying out all sorts of limb combinations from the animals he’s eaten. He gazed at his own body in wonder, suddenly excited by his newly discovered talents. When he went home after finishing his meal, he asked his mother for a journal to document his research—that of which she would never know about, of course.