Please be aware that this is, in general, a yaoi story. Knives/Legato, to be exact, though how far Legato will actually get with his Master has yet to be seen. Andante is at the moment my own character, though I have been told that within the Trigun manga there *is* a possibility for Legato to have a younger sister, so I didn't completely make up the idea.
Also note that this fanfic simply reeks with bloody violence, murder and an occasional non-lemon rape scene... vague, but you *know* what's going on. Don't read it if you don't know what you like.
The room was dim, poorly lit, and smelled heavily of cigar smoke, urine, and stale bread. Through the haze of bad lighting and grim coughing, a family ate in morbid silence. The food, hard to come by as it was, scarcely met the needs of four, and the youngest girl sobbing at the meager portions that left her stomach half empty and begging for more. A boy was seated beside her, his fork in one hand- he wasn't eating. The troubled child was staring at the prongs of the instrument intently, watching them twist and writhe like metal snakes.
The girl wolfed down the remainder of her thin slab of dark meat and looked instantly to her parent, the hunger in her sunken eyes burning feverishly. "Mama...more?"
"No, no, dear! Everyone needs to have some. We'll have more next week, you know that, the rent was due yesterday. Everything is rent!" the woman was thin and blonde, and would have been beautiful if it weren't for the poor hand she had been dealt by fate. Looping natural curls were held back by a brown band, with no thought for appearance, though her voice, once sweet, was now strained to the breaking point by the path she had chosen. Her eyes were a shimmery golden brown, plastered with damp make-up that didn't quite match her dress, the dingy color running slightly in the corners thanks to the damp tears she had shed earlier. Mother was always crying, the young boy scowled in annoyance, watching his fork knot itself into a loop around his wrist.
The girl's tears were muffled into soft half-sobs, but in the silent gloom they were painfully obvious. Finally her father scraped a bit of his dry fruit into a napkin, passing it across the small table to the starving child, who devoured it without hesitation or thought of the others, her expression still unsatisfied.
The blue haired boy watched his mother with a disdainfully curled upper lip, eyes narrowed onto thin slants of glittering hatred, strangely feline in their appearance. His hair was as shaggy and as unkempt as his sister's, long because he refused to be touched by others (He hated skin, said it felt dirty), because he refused to cut part of himself off. "Mother," his words were cold for one so young, the gleaming golden eyes a tad too knowing. "…you should share."
The woman shifted and glanced at her husband, who's hair was as dark as his son's, the color of bruised flesh, of midnight whispers. How often did they go through these issues? It was hard enough to support two as a bartender and a maid, let alone a family of four, one with...issues. That was the kindest way to put it, wasn't it? "Legato, dear-"
The girl was silent now, her curly blue-black locks falling ratty and uncombed down her back, her dress a pale smoky gray- she knew her brother loved her, and gazed at him with an adoring gaze. He *always* earned her food. He *always* brought something good. He was safe and kind. "Legato," their father stood, face pale, fearing the confrontation. Legato as an odd child, with odd capabilities and a tendency towards violence that made the whole family teeter on edge when they were around him- now was no different. The four year old's eyes were far too angry as he watched his father begin speaking, nervously.
"Legato, I know you are hungry, I know Andante is as well, but right now money is tight," the man whispered, feeling the heat in the room rise, as it always did when Legato was annoyed. "Please-"
"Selfish old man." Legato reached over and snatched his father's portion from the plate, and the elder man swallowed back a protest, sitting again as his son swept the excess meat over to his sister. The boy was too dangerous to stand up against, too-
"Lega-brother, 'm 'ungry-"
Andante pursed her lips into a thin pout, though the action just highlighted her shadowy cheeks, thin with hunger and pale in the dismal lighting. At three, she was Legato's only weakness, his companion, though not exactly his friend. They were constantly together, and while she only had a mild version of his abilities, together they were almost unstoppable, and always got their way. "More," the troubled child whispered, glaring at his mother with glassy, golden eyes. He could smell her fear, and the heavy odor disgusted him.
The woman cleared her throat helplessly, wringing her napkin under the table. If more food was eaten today, there would be none for two more, and that would be worst than this momentary hunger- she turned her darkened eyes on her son, licked her lips, tried to explain. "Legato, there isn't any-"
"More," Legato said again, his knuckles whitening in concentration, the twisted fork on the side of his plate forgotten. It was difficult to control people, objects were much easier, but as he 'pushed' he felt his father give way and stand, face blank. The woman at the table cried out, standing as her son's mouth twisted into a feral grin, lips thin and drawn, eyes sunk within his head- "Larghetto, please wait-"
The man stepped aside, neatly pushing in his chair and moving away from the battered table, every moment slightly jerky, like a marionette on strings- the child behind the scenes was grinning, pushing harshly, shoving the man nearer to the wall. The power, the sheer utter control- it was intoxicating. He was the master. He *owned* this man, the man who answered to 'father'-
He had the strength it took to take a life.
One step. Two steps. A board creaked, dust motes filtered between the sobbing woman at the table and her husband, who's hand was now bracing against the windowsill as the other opened the dirty pane of cracked glass. With a shaking grip he pushed the tattered drapes aside, head lolling to the left as he screamed silently, the sound dying in his throat. No screams would be allowed this creature- Legato caught the scream with his mind, deliciously terrified, empty, helpless- and gave one last mental 'shove'.
Three stories was fall enough.
Money was tighter after their father's fall. Legato's mother, the poor woman, took on anything that would pay- prostitution being her main source of income, which led to even less mentionable pastimes. When she came home and sobbed into her pillow for endless hours on end, Legato and Andante would sit in their room, playing with a thin pack of bedraggled cards, counting and recounting the shapes on their surfaces. While she fell to drinking, Legato stole the excess money from her stores and spent it on candy- he and his sister would sit on the window ledge, legs dangling over the precipice that claimed their father's life as they nibbled on sweet sugary cubes.
It only took time for a life of fear and filth to eat away at the woman, and before another six months had gone by, she had broken.
It was an empty evening as most were, outside the sky was fogged over with stormy black-silver clouds, though there was no hint of moisture in the early desert air. Heat lightening shifted across the sky, lighting the dingy room with an occasional burst of electricity- Legato shifted on his heels as he felt his mother's mind brush his, teeming with terror and fury and determination. Raising a brow, the four year old pushed Andante behind him and turned to the door, fixating it with a narrow glare as his mother entered the room-
She saw him, swallowed, raised the silver gun clenched between her fingers. "D-demon!" she spat on the floor, her knuckles white- Legato just blinked at her, his shimmery eyes narrow and furious. "Monster, I don't know what you are, but you aren't my son-" Trembling hands tightened on the trigger, the bullet was a fraction from being launched when the boy put a stop to it.
Epyson Bluesummers found that she could not move her fingers, couldn't breathe, couldn't open her lips to scream. Legato lifted his hand, an expression of rapture on his face, and the woman was lifted from the ground, slamming into the thin wall with an audible crack. Her son tilted his head curiously and willed her upwards- she responded, her body seeming to stretch back against the wood-
Legato found himself suffused with nearly hysterical giggles- the way her ringlets bounced as she trembled, struggling to scream- it was entertaining. The look in her eyes as the gun fell from her fingers and bounced across the scuffed floor to Andante's feet, the way her fingers twitched, unable to move or defend, unable to run- "Ha ha...hahaha...." he snickered, while Andante joined in the laughter, her voice higher, a tinny, childish crescendo. She knelt and picked up the gun, shifting it back and forth in her palms, a little grin on her tiny coral lips. The chorus of angelic amusement didn't cease, even what Legato lifted his palm and clenched his gloved fist around the invisible throat before him. As suspicious blue finger-marks found their way across the pale, sickly flesh of his mother's throat and her eyes closed, Legato turned and offered Andante his other hand. The girl moved into their bedroom and returned with a bag looped over one arm, then slipped her tiny palm into Legato's. Without a backwards glance the two disappeared out the door.
Dreams, Legato would learn later in life, were something to be heeded and respected on every occasion. Sometimes they would save your life, other times point you in the right direction- Legato's dreams, shattered as they were, still managed to convey to him a message or two on more than one occasion. Sometimes they predicted the future- or the provided unwelcome reminders of the past. At the age of four, Legato Bluesummers did not pay as much attention to dreams as he would later in life. Because of that unfortunate slip, he was not aware of the shadowy, moon-wraith that followed him through the streets in both reality and dreams as he led his sister away from their old home. Young as he was, the boy couldn't possibly have an inkling that the most powerful being on the planet had marked him- Legato Bluesummers- as a target.
It was more difficult than expected for two tiny souls to survive in the gutters of December, even two as gifted- or as cursed- as the blue haired siblings that took to the street that summer. Legato quickly found out that controlling humans required a great deal more energy than his other abilities, and it left him exceedingly drained for days at a time- On the streets that was a real problem that could not be ignored. The first few nights he spent with Andante on their own were miserable spans of endless time, the two children huddled in a cardboard box beneath a deck, shivering under a thin blanket in the chilly night air. The daylight that beat down in a heavy, relentless wave during the mornings and afternoons burnt the skin, rotted flesh, provided light in which their growing thinness and sickness could not be ignored. Days later, though, when Legato's strength, color, and determination returned to him and he was able to cease retching, the two summed up their situation easily.
"'m 'ungry, Lega-brother."
The girl's lips were thin around the butt of an unlit cigarette she had plucked off the side of the street and was currently chewing on for the taste, her hands occupied in sorting and resorting their single pack of bent cards. Legato was standing a few feet away, his legs wobbly, outside the alleyway they had claimed as their own. The past few days had shaded his face paler than before, though his narrow eyes darkened by hunger and exhaustion- they were the eyes of a hunter, a wolf, a hawk- set in a face round with baby-fat and soft curves.
He was a monster.
The blue-haired boy turned and looked at her, nodding silently in the dull morning half-light- his shaggy hair was tied back in a rough ponytail, his shirt completely gone. At the moment Legato had no words of any sort for her- in fact, it had been days since he had spoken at all-
People began moving on the street, the city waking from it's sleepy daze and beginning to move once again. Legato's amber-gold eyes took in the activity, searching for any sign of weakness, analyzing the beat of the human hearts around him. Sinking into the scenery until he was part of the view, the living pulse of the street-
They would have eaten anything by the time the boy made his move. It was quick, relatively painless- he simply picked the pocket of a passerby and returned to Andante with a handful of double dollars.
It was that easy.
The girl's face split into a broken grin as her brother wordlessly showed his earnings into his scruffy tunic and turned away, leading his sister across the dusty street to a small food stand.
It was the best they had eaten in years.