CHAPTER 166(The Lost Boy)

Please read the author's notes. (Examples and explanation of moves and appearance+ Monster Sources)

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CHAPTER START---

---6 Years Old...

"Are you excited for tomorrow? You'll meet new friends, it'll be fun," Yang's mother asked.

Moving to wrap one of his books in brown paper, the night before his very first day in a new school.

Sitting on at the table in their small one-room apartment, the only window showing the view of a red brick wall not a few feet away.

An inflatable mattress in the corner laying on the floor, neatly made with worn sheets and pillows.

While his mother, a dark-skinned woman, wearing a long but simple grey dress, small holes and stains scattered about was carefully wrapping the stack of used books to preserve them, Yang was cheerfully coloring with some crayons across from her, blissfully ignorant of their situation, as any child should be, as any parent would want their child to be.

"No, my friends went the other place," he says, not even looking up from his page as he answers her.

Unlike her, his clothes were spotless, seeing him on the street it would be impossible to tell he came from...this.

"You can always make new friends, that's part of the fun of moving," she says.

"But I don't want new friends."

"Maybe they want a new friend, and that friend is you..."

As Yang is halfheartedly thinking about what she said, the door opens as a thin, haggard Chinese man walks in. With bags under his eyes and wrinkles that shouldn't be there for another decade, he steps inside with his boots and overalls, placing his hardhat onto the counter and taking a deep breath.

"How was work?" his wife asks, continuing to prepare the books.

"The usual, nothing exciting," he says. Trying not to let his exhaustion seep through in his words as he lifts two plastic bags onto the counter.

Fishing into one he pulls out a shoebox, from the other some cans of food and a bag of rice.

Picking up the shoebox he walks over and places it on the table between his wife and son, giving them a cheerful smile.

"And now you're ready for school," he says, pushing the box over to his son.

As Yang opens the box he sees a brand new pair of shoes, nothing fancy, but they were new, his, and they looked cool to him.

"That's not what we agreed on," his wife says, giving him a dangerous look before her eyes flicker back to the shoes that didn't fit their budget.

"I know, but they're what he wanted," the man shrugs and moves to get cleaned up.

"Thanks dad!" Yang yells excitedly as he immediately moves to try on the shoes.

Later that night they were having their usual dinner, the same routine that's been happening for almost a year now.

Sitting at the small table they had plates in front of them, white rice and baked beans from a can.

While most children would complain, this was all Yang ever really knew, he had no sense for anything else, so this was fine.

As usual, his dad would finish first, 'I'm a fast eater' the man would always say. A white lie to cover the harsh truth.

Yang slides his plate over to the man, and you could almost hear their hearts break at the sight. It took all the will they had not to cry at the innocent gesture.

"No no, it's ok. I always have a big lunch, what, you want me to get fat?" the man smiles as he jokes and laughs it away. Pushing the plate back toward his son.

---7 Years Old...

Sitting at one of the large windows in the public library, Yang could see a field outside. A local junior team was playing football, he wanted to play too...but those shoes were expensive.

With a longing gaze he watches them play, jealousy builds in him and he strains to move his eyes back toward the book.

Back toward the book that he could enjoy for free, back to the books he'd been enjoying for free for months while the other kids played with their toys.

He wanted to play too...

As he arrives home to the same one-room apartment, he sees his mom slouched over some documents trying to fix their budget. Wearing her dress and apron from the diner job the woman doesn't even notice her son moving into the chair beside her.

"Mom..."

"Mm, yes dear?" she doesn't even look up from all the overdue bills on the table.

"I wanna play football," he says. Sliding over an application form for the club.

Feeling a headache coming on she takes the form and sits back in her chair. Deciding to at least take a look at it. At a glance, she sees those dreaded numbers at the bottom, and the requirements alone would put them in the red.

"Yang, we can't afford this, I'm sorry sweetie but...we just can't," she barely manages to say without crying.

As one of the very few times he's seen his mother look, sad, hurt, ashamed?

He isn't sure what to do, deciding to simply act like it never happened instead of lashing out, not really understanding what just happened.

Sitting on the mattress across the room and escaping into one of his books again.

Weeks later Yang is walking down the dim, dirty hallway of the apartment building they were living in, a massive smile on his face as he holds onto the straps of his backpack, today he got home early.

He'd finally done it, finally walked dogs enough to make the money he needed. While it wasn't exactly 'work', he mostly realized he liked animals and spending time with them through this. It paid scraps and took a while but he raised the money he needed for the uniform, shoes, and registration fee. And the best part. He did it all on his own.

As he was about to knock on the worn-down apartment door, he freezes.

He could hear something on the other side...crying, someone was crying.

He carefully presses his ear against the door, straining but he could hear it. The apartment was never big enough for privacy, even from the hallway it seems.

"We'll be fine, we always manage," his dad says, trying to comfort the crying woman.

"The diner closed down, nowhere else is hiring right now, nobody can afford to hire. Everyone is cutting costs...how are we supposed to even pay rent?" she questions, a blubbering mess barely getting the words out.

"I'll get another job, then we should have enough time for you to get another job. That's all," he says.

"Really? A third job? That'll kill you! You know that!" the very thought brought out a fire in her.

"It'll put food on the table for my family, that's worth it."

"I-is it? You're already doing so much...I just... I don't know..." she admits.

"We always figure it out, always..."

Stepping away from the door Yang sits against the other wall of the hallway. With his backpack on his lap, he just stares at the old brown door with dead eyes.

Reaching into the bag he pulls out a small plastic bag, the telltale sound of coins jingling is heard as he moves it. A mix of bills and coins was collected over the weeks by him, everything he worked for, and everything he needed to go play with the other kids.

Everything he needed to not have to spend every evening reading alone in the library, to be just a normal kid for the first time in his life.

After a few minutes of staring at the door, he finally gets up. Opening the door too fast for them to respond he sees his parents sitting at the table, his dad still holding his mom as she silently cries her worries out, if only she had enough tears for all of them.

Without a word, he marches over and rests the bag of money on the table.

As he sits on the chair opposite them, nobody responds. Both adults weren't sure what was going on, not wanting to believe that their baby had seen through it all, not wanting to admit he saw them for the failures they thought themselves to be.

"Yang, what is this?" his father asks, his mother was too busy wiping her face with her sleeves to make a response.

"Money."

"Yes, the money you've been raising for your stuff," the man slides the money back over to his son.

Yang immediately pushes it back, "I don't wanna play that anymore, you use it," he says.

"No, this is yours," the man pushes the bag back as his wife starts crying all over again.

"No, gonna go read," Yang quickly hops down from the chair and marches outside, leaving his parents stunned in surprise.

Looking at the now-closed door then back at the money on the table, his father chuckles before hugging his wife. "We can't be complete failures, right? If we raised a son like that..."

---14 Years Old...

"Done unpacking?" His father asks, standing on the balcony overlooking the city.

Yang walks up beside him and leans against the railing with a glazed donut in his hand.

"Yeah, wasn't much stuff, lots of room still."

"Mhm, does it feel good?" his dad asks.

"Moving?"

"Moving, having your own room, having more space. This place is nice, does it feel good to finally be...living?"

"We've always been living."

"No, we were surviving..." the man admits with a frown.

"Well, kinda, you and mom were surviving... but you always made sure I was living, thank you, for everything," Yang says.

"Ugh, I hate how mature you sound... kids should get to be kids, shouldn't have to worry and grow up so fast. Shouldn't have to worry about how mean the world can be, should just be playing and happy."

"I was always happy, I always had you and mom, always had food, clothes, a roof. Lots of books..."

"But never what I really wanted to give you."

"What was that?"

"You're my child, what should every parent want to give their child?"

"Um, dunno, a puppy?"

"Everything... I wish I could have given you everything, but... we had to settle for surviving."

"Until now," Yang points on.

"Until now..."

In peaceful silence, they both stare out at the setting sun on the horizon, before his father asks a question.

"So, ecology, gonna study the same thing as your mom?" his father asks.

"Mhm, I like animals."

"Dogs, rats, cats, pigeons... you didn't have many animals to meet growing up."

"I read about lots in books, had lots of books. Some of them I can't understand still, I wish I could, don't think I'll even be able to," he admits.

"Like what?"

"Well," Yang holds up the donut and offers it to him, "here, have a donut."

The man immediately pushes the hand away, "I don't really like sweets," he lies instinctively.

"See what I mean," Yang points out.

"What?"

"You...it took a while but I realize what you were doing, not eating so mom and I could eat, and now it's a habit with you, you never eat until you know we're full. It doesn't make sense to me."

"What part of that is so hard you can't understand?"

"Food, fighting and fu--- sex, that's what living things care about, but you chose not to take care of yourself, to take care of us, that's not in the books," Yang points out.

"Mhm," the man only shakes his head at the boy, "you can't find it in books. Everything wants to take care of something, and when you love someone, well, you suddenly aren't the top priority. You're good with animals but you've got a long way to go with people."

"The main priority is survival, that's nature," Yang points out.

"Yeah, but it's not love. When love happens suddenly you aren't the main concern, because at that point some people come first, even before yourself," he says to his son. Turning to look back out at the sunset.

"Right..." Yang tears the donut in half and offers it to his dad, "some people come first."

Still hesitant simply out of habit, the man takes the donut and shares it with his son, "exactly, some people come first..."

---The Present...

Stirring awake, Yang can't move his body, completely restrained. Before his eyes even open he hears voices.

Pain and anguish in the voice of his parents, calling out from a dark void in his mind.

"Yang! Yang!" His mom calls out, desperate to find her son.

"Where'd he go? What happened?" his father was confused, completely lost.

"Did...did he run away?" she asks.

"What, but...I don't know," the man admits.

'NO, I'm coming back!' Yang tries to call out, but his voice can't reach them.

"Maybe...maybe we just didn't do enough, we should have done more. He must hate us," the woman says, the sounds of faint sobs echoing through the void.

"I should have worked harder, I should have done more," his father admits, his voice sounding weak and tired.

"He hates us, and it's all our fault."

"It's all our fault," his father says as the voices fade away.

Two men in full plate armor wielding spears stand guard outside Yang's cell. The sarcophagus stays unmoving just as it has for the past few days.

"Do you really think they'll let them go?" one man asks.

"Hell no, they're traitors. We've got more level sevens now, they aren't special."

"Everyone's keeping quiet about the trial, but it should be over in a few minutes anyway so---"

"Hello!" Yang's voice calls out from inside the cell.

Both men immediately freeze, sharing a cautious glance the step away from the bars and look toward the cell.

"We must have imagined it?" one man says.

"Hello! It's dark! I can't move... I need to go home!" Yang shouts out.

"Fuck," one of the guards says. "He shouldn't be awake, he should be sedated for weeks, what the fuck..."

If only that asked Airmid, only a very few people know sedatives and anesthetics don't work on him.

"I need to go home, they're worried... please," Yang's voice is punctuated by the sarcophagus shaking.

The adamantite chains holding it in place shatter as the structure begins to crack.

"Please! I need to go, they're worried!" his voice sounded sad, not fierce at all. He was in pain. Burning guilt in his chest like never before as he shatters the sarcophagus.

"Oh gods!" One of the guards cries out. Moving further away from the cell as Yang shakes off all the chains.

With tears streaming down his face he hobbles over to the bars, tired and not thinking clearly at all he tries to pry them open.

"I need, to go home...my dad... mom, need to, go home," he sounded exhausted.

His one remaining hand wrapped tight around one of the bars.

"We, we can't let you leave!" One of the guards shouts out, "you need to stay here!"

"NO!... Need, home, DAD, MOM, I'm right here!" Yang's Chaos Mark flares to life as he snaps the adamantite bar.

A slab of Orichalcum drops from the ceiling directly onto his head, normally used when the enchanted bars are tampered with to seal the cells off.

With tears still flowing down his face, he desperately holds the Orichalcum slab upon his shoulder as he breaks more bars with a wide sweep of his right hand.

"Need, home, please," he was begging the guards. Just a child begging strangers for help.

Hobbling toward them as he easily steps out of the cell, both men back away in fear, pointing their spears at him.

Pointing their spears at the first-class threat to all of Orario. But they were hesitant, not because of the difference in power, but because this, was no threat at all.

He was crying, begging, desperate, just a boy trying to go home.

They weren't even sure if they would be able to stop him, and part of them didn't even want to.

Before they had to choose, he collapsed on the floor not five feet away from them, completely unconscious once more.

"What... what do we do now...?"

END CHAPTER---

And with this chapter, we are at 400K words, damn. Bet you expected an epic prison break, but nope, made some of you cry instead...