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Yuto screamed in terror as one of the disfigured men yanked him out of his father's tight grasp on his wrist. Somehow though, the only thing that he could hear within the loud environment was his little brother's wails. He should have turned, tried to move out of the grasp of the thing holding him but the only thing Yuto could do was close his eyes and hope that everything would stop. In those short seconds, he imagined that he was one of those Americans on the TV, the ones with superpowers. He imagined how the world would seem to stop as he felt a strong gush of force within him, how everyone would hold their breath as power surged. He imagined the fear and terror rushing through his veins being suddenly replaced by calmness and confidence.
But this was not a TV show. And Yuto was not an American superhero. Neither did he have super powers so the only thing that happened was a sudden pain as he was thrown roughly onto the floor, the skin on his elbow getting scratched open against the rough asphalt. He opened his eyes by reflex and watched as his father wrestled the thing that had grabbed him and threw it onto the floor. Watched as his father grabbed some kind of rock and smashed open the grayish skull of the thing. Watched as blood and gore spilled onto the floor.
Then he was being grabbed by his mother, still holding his little brother in her arms like he weighed nothing -and maybe he wasn't a superhero but maybe she was. Yuto had carried his little brother and he was not light-, and being ushered out of the scene, his father tight on their heels, as they ran away from the catastrophe that was the city.
Yuto had never been so tired.
It wouldn't be the last time.
He sat on the dirty floor holding in his arms the small, quickly cooling, body of Takeshi. Recently, Yuto had kept on being surprised by how much he thought the little boy had grown. When he looked at him, he kept seeing the tiny little newborn his father had handed to him not that long ago. Now holding him, Yuto couldn't see any of the growth he had been so mesmerized about. Takeshi was so tiny it felt like he was back to holding him for the first time.
Except the first time he had held his baby brother in his arms, he had felt so light and so warm that Yuto couldn't help but compare him to the sun. It felt like he was holding a small sun in his equally small palms. His little sun, he had called him when he tried to calm the boy down at night after a nightmare, tender like he had seen his parents be.
Now though, the little body was heavy, much heavier than he had ever felt when carrying him for anything else. And the little boy was frigid in ways Yuto knew no human should be. And only getting colder by the minute. There was something wet still drenching his clothes but Yuto did not care. Distantly he heard a scream, his mother probably, as people found them but he was too focused on looking down at the small freckled face of his baby brother. At the glassy black eyes that were once so full of lights. And unknowingly he kept calling for him.
“C’mon little Keshi you gotta wake up. Wake up little brother. You need to wake up, I'll make you grandma's onigiri. I'll make lots and lots of it but you gotta wake up first.”
And he kept on repeating, trying to goad his little ice cold baby brother into coming back into himself. He promised everything that he could think of, in that moment not even carring if those were possible or not. He promised him that they'd soon leave this damned country and its crazy citizens, that they'd go back to Japan, that Yuto would play in the snow with him everytime he asked, that he'd even let him use his bike and he'd he'd he'd he'd he'd he'd he'd he'd he'd hed-
As he was moved and people tried to take away his little sun, he heard a wail, Takeshi's wail because Takeshi is always the one who wails, not anyone else. He's the baby, he's scared. And he felt joy because if Takeshi was wailing, it meant hat he was awake and-
Distantly, Yuto became aware of a few things. He became aware that his little brother was being forcefully taken from his arms as he tried to fight back, to hold on tighter, to be stronger because if he was then he'd be able to protect his little brother better.
He also became aware that Takeshi's blue lips were not moving, that his throat hurt really bad and he had trouble breathing and his little lungs were screaming for air. He became aware that his chest was trembling under effort but also under unfamiliar vibrations. He became aware that the wails were coming from him.
Yuto had never been more tired of being human.
His whole body hurt as he was thrown back in The Room. Yuto did not like being in The Ring. The people around were loud and he always got hurt in some ways. He closed his eyes to ignore the pain and imagine his mother's warm hands running through his black hair. He imagined the way his dad would tickle the mole on his face and laugh when he scrunched up his nose. He imagined warmth and a cute laugh followed by a thud and a familiar wail resonating through the room. A familiar scene as one of his parents rushed to make sure the little boy hadn't hurt himself too badly. It'd be the afternoon before dinner and the pain in his body would be from the soreness of a long baseball practice.
Time passed like this as Yuto waited in his head, disconnected from the outside and content to redecorate his environment and let his thoughts distract and devour him, drown him. It was the kind of pain that Yuto craved for nowadays, the only thing that he had left for him.
Yuto glanced up as his master stepped into The Room. He got ready to stand up to follow him out of said room towards his next task when he noticed a bundle of something inside the man's arms. There were a lot of blankets and Yuto wondered what was in them until he saw a tiny hand move out of the thing.
This was a baby.
Yuto wondered what the man would want him to do with it. His master seemed to be talking about something but Yuto was too busy thinking. Considering what usually happened, he'd probably want him to kill the baby. Yuto didn't exactly want to but he wanted even less to refuse an order. That never ended well for him in the past and he didn't think that it would now. He tried to imagine the best way to kill it. The baby looked small enough that squeezing its throat would probably not be too hard, maybe even breaking it would be feasible. But that'd be a bit slow, cruel, small lungs or not. Yuto didn't exactly want to be confronted by its blue-ing lips and whitening face as it tried to wail. He could smash it with something but it'd defo be even slower and much dirtier unless he managed to angle the hits right-
Thud
Yuto felt his head scream as his hair was grabbed and he was roughly yanked up.
“Are you fucking listening to me you damn brat?!” his master screamed and Yuto had trouble keeping up with the foreign language. English had never been his strong suit.
“Yes sir”
The man roughly shoved the bundle of blankets into his arms.
“You know what? Forget everything that I've said about how I got it. This is your new cellmate okay? Take care of it. If it dies, I'll make your life a living hell, clear boy? Give it a name, do whatever, it's your problem.”
“Yes sir”
The man then stepped out of the room and locked back the door, leaving him with a bag he hadn't even realized the man had brought and the toddler. Said toddler who almost immediately started to wail at the series of quick movements and loud banging noises.
Yuto looked down in interest at the small face. The little thing looked Asian and the familiarity immediately brought a sense of relief to him. A small freckled face, small black eyes, surprisingly tan skin and… orange hair? The combinaison was odd, Yuto had never seen anyone back home with ginger hair. He wished he could ask his parents about it, they'd know what its issue was. Unfortunately they weren't and so Yuto would have to figure it out as he went.
Give it a name the man had said. Yuto didn't know if the baby was a boy or a girl but he knew when an occasion presented itself and when to take it. As he rocked the baby and the familiarity of the wail soothed him, Yuto whispered in Japanese along a tune his mother liked.
“C’mon Takeshi, you're okay, I've got you, I won't let you go anymore. You won't fall anymore, I'll keep us strong, we won't lose, we will be okay.”