Neko: Tales Of Deviants

Family

In a small town on the outskirts of Metro City, where the quiet of midnight blanketed the streets, a young boy's screams shattered the stillness. On the floor of his bedroom, he writhed in agony, his body convulsing as if being torn apart from the inside. His parents, faces etched with concern and desperation, hovered over him, trying in vain to offer comfort.

The mother, her voice trembling with panic, cried out, "Oh shit, what's wrong with our son?"

The father, holding his son tightly, tried to soothe him. "Shhh, shhh. It's okay, son. Everything will be fine."

But the boy's screams only grew louder. "Aaahhhh!!"

"We should take him to a hospital," the mother pleaded, tears streaming down her face.

The father shook his head vehemently. "Are you kidding me? Do you know what they might do? They could take him away from us. He's not exactly normal. He has a tail and cat ears instead of human ears."

The mother sobbed, her voice breaking. "Then what are we going to do for him? This is the third night in a row! I can't keep watching him suffer!"

The father, his expression grim, replied, "We knew what we were getting into when we took him in."

The boy's cries continued, a heart-wrenching symphony of pain that echoed through the small house. His body, marked by the distinct features of a cat ears and a tail—was a testament to his unique heritage. In a world where 20% of the population had powers and were labeled as deviants, his parents had always known the risks.

As the boy's agony persisted, the parents exchanged a look of helplessness. They had taken him in, knowing he was different, but the reality of his suffering was more than they had ever anticipated. The father held his son tighter, his own heart breaking at the sight of the boy's pain.

The mother, her voice barely a whisper, asked, "What do we do now?"

The father, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and sorrow, replied, "We stay strong. We protect him. No matter what."

Three years ago, in the quiet of a late evening, a young married couple, Devon Green and his wife Justus Smith, were returning from a night out. Devon was driving, his attention divided between the road and the lively conversation with his wife. Suddenly, a sickening thud jolted them both from their reverie.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! What did you do? Who did you hit?" Justus's voice was a panicked crescendo.

"Hey! Let's not jump to conclusions. It could be a raccoon. Stay in the car. I'll go check it out," Devon replied, trying to sound calm. But inside, his thoughts were racing. Please, oh please, be a raccoon!

Devon stepped out of the car, his heart pounding. As he approached the front of the vehicle, dread pooled in his stomach. Lying on the ground was not an animal, but a child. The boy looked to be no more than three or four years old. Miraculously, he appeared uninjured, just unconscious. Devon knelt beside him, checking for signs of life.

Okay, Devon, let's think on the bright side. At least the kid is okay, he thought, trying to steady his nerves.

From the car, Justus's frantic voice broke the silence. "What is it?"

"It's a kid, but don't worry, he's fine. Just unconscious," Devon called back, trying to keep his voice steady.

"You hit a kid!" Justus's voice was a mix of disbelief and horror.

As Devon turned back to the car, he noticed a large dent in the hood. Did this come from the kid? No way, that's impossible. A small child couldn't have done this.