Chapter Text
Amon hissed softly in pain as he shifted behind a pile of garbage. In an unfortunately familiar routine he silenced his breathing as he heard footsteps begin to approach his direction. Most of the time people just used back roads as shortcuts around the city, but there was always the threat of unsavory characters and he couldn’t risk it right now, the swollen, sharp pain in his leg would make him useless in a fight.
As they came into view, he tentatively peaked throughout a crack in his place behind a pile of wet, half disintegrated cardboard boxes. He watched as a man walked through the alley. Amon patiently waited for him to pass through before planning to resume his previous efforts to get somewhere safer.
He wouldn’t get that chance though. A masked man dropped from the roof. Vibrant colors danced through the air faster than he could process.
For a moment afterward, all Amon could do was stare in confusion at the haze of red.
A thing suddenly landed on the ground a few feet from him. It stared up, eyes glassy and wide. Halfway down the neck skin abruptly turned to a growing puddle of red. Amon stifled a gasp, coming to a revolting realization. The only thing preventing him from gagging was the certainty that if he so much as breathed too loudly, he would die.The masked creature knelt beside the body and maneuvered his mask in a way that exposed his mouth while still obscuring the rest of his face.
Amon’s body was paralyzed. The city was by no means quiet as the man bit down and yet the squelch and crunch of flesh under teeth felt like the only noise in the world.
He didn’t know how long he watched the ghoul eat but when he eventually left, Amon waited what felt like hours before he dared make a single sound. He had to be sure that the monster wouldn’t come back. In the end it was pure adrenaline that gave him the strength to move. Fear that if he lingered any longer, he would be next. Even being high on terror wasn’t enough to block out the rising pain of dragging himself across asphalt but he had no delusions about being able to stand on his leg. If lightly being jostled when he pulled himself forward hurt then, without a doubt, he’d pass out if he tried to stand.
He’d hidden in the deepest part of the alleyway, right in front of a wall that turned the place into a dead end. Now as he crept closer he realized there would be no avoiding it. His mouth felt dry. Whether that was from dehydration or nerves he wasn’t sure.
To get out he’d have to drag his body through someone’s viscera.
He inched towards the pile of what used to be a man. Blood coated his hands and the backs of his legs, anointing him with the smell of iron.
He was forced to stop half way through when the smell felt so thick that it was suffocating him. His diaphragm spasmed and saliva pooled, preparing for a barrage of acid in his esophagus. Once again he fought against his stomach’s attempt to turn itself inside out. He was hungry and dehydrated enough as is. If he lost any more of either precious commodity he wasn’t sure what would happen to him.
Too exhausted to keep track of everything around him, he focused on gathering himself. This was his undoing. Forgetting spatial awareness, a stray hand landed where it was not supposed to.
He froze. His breathing quickened. He tried not to scream.
Looking at the mess of bones piercing through torn muscle, feeling the slimy organ under his palm. In that moment his self restraint shattered and the tears he’d been holding back broke free. The gravity of everything came crashing down. He’d been delusional. There was no way he was going to get out of this alive.
Amon collapsed, the last of his will to fight left him. Death would come for him in unconsciousness.
…or at least it should have.
Instead, he woke to pain. A dull throb in his back from passing out in an odd position and the usual pulsing, piercing pain that went straight ho his broken leg. Worst of all was the all consuming ache that plagued his abdomen. He took shallow, shaky breaths as he tried to ground himself, but he was only half successful in that endeavor as the smell of iron wafted again to his nose. He bit his lip, saliva pooled in his mouth once more.
But this time his stomach growled. When that ghoul had eaten it, it looked like it had savored every bite. ‘Just a little’ he thought, ‘it shouldn’t just go to waste’.
Under the velvety cloak of darkness, small hands pushed ribs aside and dug into the hollow of a carcass’s chest.
That day, Amon had felt truly full for the first time in months.
…
Donato had been drawn in by the smell of blood.
He preferred to hand rear his meals but harvesting too often would draw the prying eyes of pesky little birdies. He’d set out on a meal to tide him over when he’d noticed the smell of a kill.
Oh dear, he couldn’t let that slide. This was his territory and he had a reputation to maintain after all.
When he reached the source of the smell it had led to a dead end little alcove. Slipping into the shadows gifted by a moonless night, he perched on a rooftop quietly assessing the sight of a boy elbow deep in entrails.
Oh, it was a little thing. Donato wasn’t one for cannibalism, a kakuja didn’t have the stability of mind required to rear their own meat, but a ghoul too young to have a kagune tasted much more like a human. He unfurled his own koukaku, all the muscle in his body went taught as he readied to pounce on the foolish child that had dared to trespass on what was his.
An updraft whisked through the alley, tousling his vestments.
Donato froze in disbelief.
-There was no scent of ghoul.
Maybe had just been buried under the smell of the human corpse? Blood was all over the alley afterall. He closed his eyes and took another deep whiff, searching for the light earthy fragrance of a young male ghoul…only to once again come up short.
He quickly brought a hand up to his mouth to keep himself from laughing but gleeful mirth overtook him. He couldn’t keep the wicked grin off his face. How amusing, a human child that ate like a ghoul!
If he was on the streets like this then there was probably a good chance he was an orphan (and if he wasn’t– well that could easily be fixed). Donato traveled a block or so by roof before dropping down into a backstreet. He pulled off his mask and hid it inside the inner pocket he’d added to his cassock. The layers of heavy fabric draped over the mask in a way that made even the outline of hard epoxy surprisingly discrete. To replace his physical facade he slid on the genial face of a kind priest.
He wouldn’t lump himself in with gourmets but this was a taste he absolutely couldn’t let slip by.
…
A soft gasp had been what had ripped Amon from his frenzy.
The first bite he’d taken had barely been choked down. The texture of raw organ meat had been rubbery and with each bite a disgusting coppery taste only leached further into his mouth. When he forced himself to swallow it, his body shivered. He’d been keenly aware of it as it made its way down his esophagus and nestled itself in his stomach like lead. The whole experience had been so vile he’d nearly not been able to work up the courage to endure it again. He probably wouldn’t have kept going had it not been for the fact that a single bite had condemned him.
Like a pack of starving wolves the empty thing that roiled in his gut caught the smell of blood. If he’d thought the beast’s restless pacing had been bad, now it kicked and screamed and writhed so horribly he couldn’t think.
He didn’t remember the second bite, nor the third. Everything melded into a vague blur of colors. His body had simply moved on instinct, forgetting for a moment that a world laid beyond this fissure between buildings.
He had let himself fall under the illusion of privacy. By the time he remembered, it had been too late. There, cut in a halo of light, was a man. Amon made an attempt to deny that it wasn’t what it looked like but snapped his jaw shut as he became abruptly aware of the tacky blood that’d started drying on his skin. Any plea died in his throat. The aborted words turning into a soft, raspy, gasp.
Oh no. He was going to get thrown in jail forever.
The man had wide eyes and a hand over his mouth. With his currently frail body and a broken leg there was nothing Amon could do but scrunch his eyes tight and wait for the other’s judgement.
“Goodness, a-are you alright child?” The man asked. Amon was so surprised by the rather mild response to having found a cannibal that he couldn’t help open his eyes once again to look at him in perplexment. The man nervously glanced from side to side before entering the alley. “Here, how about we tell the police it was a ghoul attack?. We’ll say you saw the body and tried to help but you were too late. Then we can have a conversation about how you ended up in this-” he paused, clearly frazzled as he tried to figure out how to phrase his words tactfully “…situation.”
Now that his figure wasn’t in shadow Amon recognized the black robes of a priest Oh, priests were supposed to be kind, right? Maybe that was why…? But his stomach felt heavy and bloated. An overwhelming tiredness seemed to engulf him, eyelids like lead. Vision swimming and melding into incoherent blurs. It was hard to think when all he wanted to do was sleep.
Amon wasn’t in the position to look a gift horse in the mouth. He wasn’t really in the state to do much of anything at all. So, rather than question the man that was too compassionate to be true, he gave a weak nod before letting the exhaustion overtake him.
…
“Good morning Father Donato” the receptionist, a cheerful young lady, greeted “ I hear Amon’s awake this morning. I bet he’ll be happy to see you!”
The priest smiled back and inclined his head in greeting “Thank you Yorihime-san, morning to you as well.” Though he regularly scaled buildings, in service of his elderly persona he took the elevator up to the children's ward rather than the stairs.
Unlike the other wards that were covered in sterile white, the walls of this floor were painted in colorful murals. Alongside the usual seating areas there were smaller tables and chairs peppered through the lobby and activity rooms where children could be seen playing. Donato didn’t linger in any of these spaces though, turning down a hallway and following a route he’d grown used to within the past few days.
He knocked on the door to room 425 and waited for the usual response. The words that came through the door were probably so quiet that most humans would struggle to make sense of them. For a ghoul though, it was recognizable as a soft but clear “Come in” and so Donato did.
The wall furthest from the door was a giant window that revealed an expansive view of the city skyline and let natural light pour into the room. To the left was an armchair and a sofa that he’d been informed by one of the nurses turned into a bed. Most importantly though, centered on the right wall was a hospital bed and in it was the anomaly he’d come to see. His leg was wrapped and elevated in a navy colored cast. Tubes were strewn about. Some fed into machines and others were attached to the boy in various places.
“Donato-san!” Amon’s voice was soft yet happy as he smiled shyly at the priest.
“Well hello to you too” The older man chuckled. “You seem more energetic than usual. I take it you had a good night's sleep?”
Amon nodded and Donato smiled. He placed a bag down on the fold out table beside the hospital bed “I brought some activities for you.”
When he'd called the police that night he’d assumed the child would have to go to the hospital. He’d seen the odd angle his leg was bent.
What he hadn’t realized was the storm that would follow.
The boy went slack in his arms, and Donato had assumed exhaustion. That was until the next morning when Amon had suffered a seizure. Refeeding syndrome the hospital had said. Apparently humans could get dangerously sick if they gorged themselves after being starved.
While Amon started scrounging through the contents, the other took a seat “I came today to tell you something very special.” Inquisitive eyes darted up to meet the priest’s “How would you like to come home with me?”
It had been easier to manage than expected. Amon had apparently slipped through the cracks after his mother’s passing and now the government was scrambling to cover it up. All the priest had to do was position himself as the most convenient option. Show the doctor and the social workers that he was what Amon needed.
His jaw went slack “R-really?!” awe blossomed across Amon's face “Can I really come with you?”
Donato hummed in affirmation. Hearing the giddy laugh that elicited, he couldn’t help but smile as well. If Amon had been a bit less happy, a bit less desperate for any semblance of comfort, maybe he would’ve noticed the cruelty that hid in the curve of those lips.
…
It had been a slow process but after nearly two years, the terrified, quiet boy he’d found in that alleyway had become no more. In his place was a social and happy child liked by all his siblings.
With each passing day, the more Donato struggled to keep his eyes off the boy. Truly, Amon had blossomed well. His grotesquely skinny form had padded out, first into a healthy layer of fat and then the beginnings of muscle. He was desperate to sink his teeth into the tender curve of his calf. What would such an interesting boy taste like?