The boy blinked, a dark-red slap mark fresh on his cheek. The figure before him.. looked to be about his age, with long and messy black hair and sharp blue eyes. He was holding some sort of metal stick in his hand, which he had used to..
"Hee- hic--!"
.. Decapitate the man.
He had killed someone.
"Ha.. hagh.."
He took a step backwards, terrified. His breathing started to quicken.
How had things come to this?
He had just been out on a leisurely walk with Phillip.. He had only been trying to find a gift for his soon-to-be younger brother.. how did he end up witnessing a murder?
He clutched the object in his hands tightly. It was a beautiful music box, shaped like a mini carousel, with tiny horses that moved when it was wound up. This one was particularly expensive, but he had saved up enough money just to buy it.. and he nearly got it taken away from him.
But it was his fault. He had gotten distracted by a street performer and wandered off, accidentally losing Phillip in the crowd. Then those men had cornered him, demanding he hand over the music box.
And then this kid..
He had sprung up from out of nowhere. He felt grateful for his help, but..
Those eyes..
He had killed someone. And from the looks of it, he didn't care. No matter how young the boy looked, no matter how naive, he wouldn't say anything otherwise.
Those were the eyes of a murderer.
"Wh-- who are you?" He spoke, his voice trembling in spite of the effort he made to stay calm.
A short silence, as the boy turned around..
"Gah?"
"....?"
He blinked, his grip on the music box tightening. The man's slap must've disoriented him somehow..
"I.. I said, who are you?"
"Bah."
"???"
'Wha.. what's going on?.. Is he being weird on purpose?'
He took another step back, this time hitting his back on the wall. He gulped, realizing there was no escape.
Tap. Tap.
"Erk--"
The boy with the metal rod took a step closer to him.
Drip.
"Ugh..!"
Terrified at the sight of blood dripping down on the metal rod, he started to cry.
"Uu... Sniff-- don't hurt me..!"
Pat.
"H- huh?"
The boy patted him on the head, storing away his metal rod. He blinked rapidly, confused. His grip on the music box loosened slightly.
'Is he nice? To me, atleast..?'
"Are you going to hurt me?"
"Gwo." The boy shook his head in reply. He pointed at his mouth, then waved a finger in front of it.
After a few minutes of confused silence, he slowly started to understand. The boy.. couldn't speak properly. He felt a touch of shock and pity, which he quickly shook away in disbelief.
No, even if he was nice, he was still a murderer.
If the boy wasn't planning to hurt him, he should better thank him and be on his way..
"...."
He took another peek at the dead body behind the boy, and he nearly vomited.
'Ugh, I can't.. it's so..'
Noticing his expression, the boy with the metal rod tilted his head, confused. After a moment of silence, he seemed to understand something.
The metal-rod kid walked over to the unmoving man. He nudged the man with his foot. When he didn't respond, he poked him in the cheek.
The boy with the box watched in horror.
Themetal-rod kid poked him harder.
"Agh.."
The man groaned.
The metal-rod kid gestured at the man, then made a sleeping motion.
A wave of realization washed over boy with the box.
He hadn't killed him. The man was just unconscious. A little.. injured, maybe, but alive! And the boy... he was trying to show him that.
"Oh.. so he's not.. dead?"
"Mhm."
He looked at the boy again, this time with a little more curiosity. The boy's eyes... they were sharp and intense. But they weren't hostile. Instead, he looked genuinely lost and bewildered. His clothes were raggedand he couldn't seem to speak properly.He was sort of like a wild animal, acting on pure instinct without really knowing what was right or wrong.
The men who robbed him weren't much better. They picked on a defenseless kid, trying to take something that was precious to him. Did this metal-rod kid really do something wrong?
Taking his appearance into account, he must've come from a poor family..
"...Come on. We're going to get some help."
Suddenly losing his stutter, he took the boy's hand and dragged him out of the alleyway.
_________________________________________
"...."
072 felt a little awkward. He had arrived like a hero to save someone in need, yet it felt as though he was the one receiving help. As expected, he was far too unfamiliar with how to interact with other people.
And this boy..
He looked at the boy holding an odd-looking box in his hands. He found him a bit.. eccentric. He had just stepped in to help him, but when he had helped knock the man down, he looked at him as if he were some sort of monster. It made 072 feel uncomfortable.
It reminded him of the way he used to look at those monsters.
The two of them reached the sidewalk. 072 followed the odd-box boy, who was avoiding his gaze.
The two looked starkly different from each other. One was clean and tidy, while the other was filthy and tarnished. They drew quite a lot of stares from passersby, making 072 feel irritated. He wished he knew how to tell the odd-box boy that they should walk atleast a few steps apart.
"Where are your parents? Are they here with you? Just nod or shake your head."
After a while, the odd-box boy spoke. 072 flinched and shook his head. The terms he used were unfamiliar to him.
"Looking like that, I thought so. Where are they, anyway?"
072 shook his head again. The odd-box boy sighed.
"You don't know where they are? So, you're homeless? Are you an orphan?"
Not quite understanding what he meant, 072 nodded, choosing to agree with whatever he said. The odd-box boy looked at him with pity.
"Alright. I'll tell them that as well, I guess."
"Thwa?"
'Them?'
Just as he was going to ask him what he meant by 'them,' the odd-box boy turned a corner and led him to a suspiciously familiar building.
'Wait--'
It was the exact same building as that place-- but no, that's impossible, he must be miles and miles away from there--
As the doors opened automatically, 072 spotted a familiar working desk and a few men in blue clothes.