Rain enveloped the city like a blanket, Saito thought, as he
looked out into the sodden streets around him, his eyes glistening with a
mirrored sheen like an animal’s. It wasn’t that the night was brighter, it was
that the darkness no longer mattered, no longer concealed things to him, it
seemed; the slanting yellow blades of the streetlights might have cut through
the pervasive shadowing, but it was night, and darkness was only ever
temporarily banished. Beneath the streetlights water ran from the sky in an
almost constant stream, the droplets pouring down and fragmenting the world
into a grainy filter that scattered the light where it existed and fell
endlessly into darkness where it didn’t, striking the ground hard enough to
spatter and bounce and create a sheen of frothing white over the edge of surfaces.
He almost didn’t want to enter it, transfixed as he was in the moment. To his
heightened senses the world seemed almost to work in a perfectly fluid slow
motion, and Saito himself seemed to come through the pall of whatever it was
that seemed to have possessed his nights, this spiritual drug that brought out
what he held back and repressed for all the world to see. For a moment his eyes
appeared normal, pupil contracting as though to focus before he lost it once
more and the black rose in his eye, taking in everything and giving it the sheen
that he found accompanied his nightly rebirth.
It was a subtle reminder of the not so subtle truth that he
was something more-or less-then himself when night came around.
The sound of tires on water broke the sound, water and rain
flying back from a car sliding through the streets towards some unknown destination.
For just a moment it’s headlights bathed the world and the rain in light,
sliding over Saito and revealing him in the shadow of the buildings eave where
he stood just about to step into the street before it was gone, and the moment
broken. With an animal’s poise and fluidity Saito was in motion, his body
slipping into the rain with his head slightly bent to prevent his face from
being spattered in the deluge.
Every step seemed slow and easy and languid, ever muscle
self-aware and reporting to his body as he made his way along, hands sliding
into his pockets easily. He didn’t much like the rain when he was in it, the
pervasive and consuming feeling of wetness that sunk through his clothing
slowly and subtly until finally he would feel it beneath his skin, a sodden
feeling from the inside out that wouldn’t go away even in the warmth of an
apartment, but if nothing else it made the walk home from his latest haunt a
bit more interesting. The bar was a dive, to be sure, and he hadn’t expected or
received much by going there, but he was still getting used to the increased
urges that came on him in waves, and this beast inside him seemed to grow
stronger without release. He wondered idly when a proper chance to really let
go would be, realizing that he was secretly longing for the chance again, and
with the realization it became all that much harder not to simply break into a
run, not to feel his muscles coil and bound and snap foreword as fast as the
car that drove by.
But he didn’t. Which was the story of his life, really.
As he walked, making his way back to his apartment, there
was something that caught his eye from the shadows, a black form almost
invisible against the darkness until a pair of mirrored eyes met his and he
stopped, cocking his head to the side lightly. It hadn’t been there for long,
but when he looked now he could see it—damp, wet, bedraggled, the hair
slickened down towards earth in the rain as it sat beneath a gutter…
A kitten. He wasn’t an expert, couldn’t tell how old it was,
but for no reason other than a pure animal curiosity he made his way over to
it, cocking his head to the side and leaning down to look at the small thing.
It was sitting on its haunches, ears slicked down, and it had the softly
oppressed image of something with nowhere to go if only for the sheer lack of
purpose necessary to go anywhere. As he looked to it and its eyes rose to his,
he was surprised that there was a flash of something else in them, much like
his own; something other than animal, but when he looked again it was gone, nothing
more to be found in it. As he watched it opened its small mouth, white teeth
small and perfect as they glittered slightly in the dark, and let out a long,
slow, mournful ‘mrow’.
“Tell me I’m not bringing it home…” he muttered with a sigh
as he extended a hand to it, raising an eyebrow as the small creature raised a
paw and batted slowly, almost drunkenly at his fingertip, claws retracted,
curious but without any real display of hope or interest in it before he slid
his fingertips under its chin. His apartment complex didn’t allow pets, for
whatever reason, probably because they were too loud or some such thing, but he
sighed and felt a bit more like Saito then he had previously as he slid his
hand under the animal’s ribcage, massive compared to the small thing, and
brought it into the air. It practically fit in the palm of his hand, and as he
raised it to the air it let its head rest against his palm, letting out another
slight ‘mrow’, though this time of curiosity.
“Yes, I’m bringing you in.” he said, shaking his head dryly before
he felt something odd, a warm wet spot that his eyes immediately focused on, a
patch of fur matted by something more than rain along its left hind leg.
Stepping under the even himself, he found himself bringing his other hand to
the joint and feeling at the skin. He couldn’t see it in the darkness, but he
knew somehow exactly what was there, sight seeming to be a rather unimportant
then when it came to actual understanding; the cat let out a weary hiss and
attempted t bite and thrash weakly at his wrist, but he paid it no mind. The
fangs didn’t have the strength to so much as break the skin, and his grip was
far stronger than it had ever been, and so the animal was forced to put up with
his ministrations as he noticed the long, clotted line of blood running along
the side of it, matting the fur. It seemed he’d been in a fight of some kind,
though the blow looked more like the raking slash of some kind of blade; it was
a claw wound, it certainly was an unusual one. Still, as he made his way along,
he only shook his head.
“Been fighting, have you?” he noted dryly as he went, the
scent of blood making its way to his nose through the rain only just, like a
fine mist that barely made it through the dripping rain. He held the small
animal under his coat idly, preventing it from being further rained on, and it
meowed again into his arm as he slid across the street easily back to his
apartment. “Well so have I, but you’ve come out of it a bit worse, it would
seem.”
It wasn’t long before he was at his apartment; he hadn’t
bothered to venture far into the lower commons, tempting though it was to prowl
the alleyways and jump any would-be ambushers just for the thrill of returning
the favor. He hid the small lump of fur under his coat as he stepped through
the doorway, twisting his key and easily making his way up the stairs towards
his fourth floor apartment. In a fifth floor building he at least had the
luxury of a corner room, and as such he could see the room from his living room
largely wherever he stood. His apartment wasn’t large, but it was large enough
for him, and frankly it didn’t much matter to him flicked on a light, feeling
his eyes immediately adjust to the change before he cocked his head to the side
and made his way for the table where he might have a better look at the cat and
might manage to better help the little thing. He had taken a few anatomy
classes and was replaying the dissection lab he’d done previously on a much
bigger version of the scrawny little thing he had in his arms, a tabby that was
likely to die from the tumor in his stomach anyway, the instructor had assured
the more squeamish members of the class.
There didn’t seem to be anything oh too terribly wrong with
it, though it was a nasty cut. He didn’t see any flees (and he was sure he
would have noticed the little things in his examination) or mange on the
creature, but there was something… else up with it, as though it was weary in a
way that he could only describe as of the soul. It needed time to rest, of that
he was sure, rest and recover, and he decided that he would figure out what to
do with the damn thing then. In the meantime, he noted now that it was out of
the wet and the rain and the pervasive scent of tar and water that the little
thing had developed some kind of scent about it that he wasn’t sure was
entirely wholesome, and if nothing else the cut could use some cleaning up
properly.
A quick bath in the sink did the trick well enough, the warm
water flowing over its small form seeming to soothe it a bit (or at least
enough that it stopped trying to snap up his fingers; it had apparently learned
that it was going to be wet one way or another, and might as well be warm). He
hadn’t any idea what the hell to wash it with, so with some slight chagrin he
found himself just massaging some shampoo into the clotted fur and washing it
out.
You know, the
figure leaning back against his fridge said, the impossibly wide smile
stretching into an amused smirk as he chuckled, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind for the night. You’ve bigger
things to fry then sewing a damn kitten back together.
“Cry more.” He said out loud idly, drying the thing with a
dishtowel, being careful around the cut at it’s leg as he looked to it and met
its eyes once more, the thing almost glaring up to him wetly before it let out
a slight ‘whuff’ and another meow. “Some plans change. You’ll have your fun
soon enough.”
With that he found himself spreading a string of
disinfectant along the creature’s cut, raising an eyebrow at the nature of it
before shrugging lightly and sighing. As he worked, though, he couldn’t shake
the idea that there was more to the little thing then met the eye; certainly it
seemed to be rather odd for a cat, and to be sure it seemed to have a bit more
personality then most. It groaned and batted at his fingers when he rubbed at
the sensitive area, and while he ignored it he couldn’t help but feel that the
cat was complaining as he looked down to its expressive eyes, occasionally
catching something below the animal sheen of them, though he didn’t bother
letting it change what he was up to. When he was finally done, he shook his
head and slid a hand under the thing, picking it up and making his way to his
bedroom with a shake of his head. He didn’t sleep much anymore, whatever it was
that sustained him during the night seemed to remove the real need for it, and
so it wasn’t a big loss as he popped the cat onto one of his pillows and stood
back, watching the thing knead wearily at the feathers and fabric before
looking up to him and cocking it’s head to the side, eventually lowering it to
the pillow case and simply watching him.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to eat you.” He said dryly as he
watched the small thing, which let out another slight whuff of disapproval
before closing its eyes. He made his way to the door, and while he didn’t see
it he could feel it perk up as he spoke. “You don’t have to tell me or show me
what you are, but don’t think I’m a fool about it, either. We’ll see what there
is to do about you when you heal; something tells me it shouldn’t be too long.”
With that he turned and closed the door, leaving the cat to its devices as he
made his way back for the door of his apartment with a slight roll of his eyes,
the feeling of eager impulse building again from who he could only call the
stranger leaning against his fridge.
Don’t they have a
pound for this shit? The man asked idly, a smirk on his lips as Saito
rolled his eyes.
“Not another word, pal. Not another word.”
Words: 2243
Quest: The Dark Summoned Pet
Reward/Exp: Pending Grading.
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