What herbs do to a thief :

Several issues plagued Eileen - some of which he was quite familiar with. They were a twisted relationship or a bad disease. No matter how much he tried getting rid of them, they returned. Now, Eileen limped through the slums – half-limping, half-grazing-his-foot-against-the-ground. Actually, his state reminded him of one of these problems.

There was his body. It was the blood's soggy texture, spread all over his skin, that bothered him, much more than the scars and wounds. Bruises could heal, but discomfort took some effort to destroy.

Another matter. His legs wobbled and twitched. It seemed obvious, but leaping from the shelter's tall fences was harder than Eileen had predicted. Granted, there was a silver lining. His bones weren't a mush. He could walk, albeit in an erratic gait. Like an injured kitten.

More urging, however, was Eileen's housing. His former flat was, evidently, an awful spot, now that the army had infested it. There were no stable renting systems either - maybe, if threatening honest landlords counted as one. Eileen tried it once and left with a bitter feeling. Nonetheless, he was at peace with stealing. Stealing. It was nice and soothing.

Eileen avoided thinking about these issues. Under the veil of the night, the slums were a deceptively calm place. A messy and tangled network of alleys, dim businesses, and, scattered throughout, avenues leading to the city.

A foreign feeling hit Eileen. He had trouble recognizing his location. Given, the alleys were rather similar, and people relied on subtle hints to locate themselves. A tag or some interesting change in layout. Anything. However, Eileen's alley was dull.

On both sides, a set of tall concrete walls. Gray paint peeled off their surface and cigarette buds hid in-between natural cracks. The floor was sleezy, too. Damp, with debris and wastes cluttered all over - some kind of human-made swamp.

Eileen mused that the alley went on for a dozen meters. The walk felt sluggish. He raised his gaze, but the sealed windows and curtains displayed no life nor interest. Eileen sighed. He ended up playing with a green striped can on the floor.

He kicked it once, the can rolled forward a meter. A metallic noise echoed against the walls.

Eileen scoffed. This time, he slammed it. A reddish liquid burst out of the can, exploding on the floor. As Eileen approached the alley's exit, he crouched on the ground, raised a grin, before flicking what remained of the can.

The sight broadened at the exit. Eileen, despite his lacking awareness, figured out without thinking his location. It was a wide avenue that extended in a straight horizontal path. These dimensions gave some breathing room for the sky, where stars began to shine. The avenue housed an unusual array of shabby shops, crumbling hotels or any other time of business. Tagged drawings were plastered all over the walls. A thick scent of chemical paint emerged from the place.

Eileen strode through the avenue's upper section, glancing at the familiar shops. Although their offering differed, a common factor blended them into a coherent mess. A gray coat of paint. Eileen believed that everyone was allergic to colors.

The avenue was a desert of sounds. It may have been two or three in the morning. Eileen's footsteps were more carefree than ever. During his walk, he stumbled once against a poster, glued to a wall with gum. It was the attempted drawing of a man. He had no remarkable features, safe for long hair, darker than a crow, ending at about shoulder height. These rough drawing techniques were childlike. Below that image was written a sentence in uneven handwriting.

Eileen's eyes became wrinkled. He read these next words out loud, with stress on each syllable.

"Neil, give me that hundred-dollar bill back."

It was signed with some kind of icon. Eileen scoffed, before walking past it.

By his estimations, half an hour passed afterwards. The avenue was empty and infused with boredom. Eileen hummed and whistled, but nothing worked. The walk was endless.

The stars were in full display when Eileen halted his steps for the second time. Ahead, a tavern-like building towered him. Its frontage was built in plain wood, with two windows on the sides that wouldn't close. The entrance was hidden on the far-right corner with no discernable hue.

Eileen walked up to the door, whose surface vibrated with shouts and music. He turned the handle before throwing his body into the gap. A lukewarm temperature greeted his bruised skin, and the scent of alcohol burned it.

The inside lived up to the tavern assumptions. Tables and stools occupied the area, blessed with the color of oak. From the ceiling, a scarlet lamp dangled back and forth like a pendulum, spreading an aggressive hue throughout the room.

While it was a feast for the eyes, Eileen's ears screamed refuge. A tall speaker, location behind a crescent-shape counter, blasted off some experimental music. Walking towards this sound was painful. As though it created a barrier of waves.

Eileen traversed the room in muffled steps. His eyes wandered around. The tables were all occupied by people. 'People'. Eileen paused on this word. Describing them was a pain. They were tall, small, burly or skinny, with thinning or thick hair, a melting-pot of ugliness. Their faces were all flushed. The tables, buried underneath a legion of drinks, suffered from strange gazes of affection. It was a perpetual cycle.

Reaching the counter, Eileen clicked his tongue. The stools were all occupied. After some thinking, he tiptoed behind a man boasting a wide frame and tapped on his shoulder.

"Sir?" Eileen began, curling his lips into a professional smile. Intrigued, the man turned around, displaying a grumpy look. As he grunted some gibberish, Eileen's smile deepened.

"Sir, it's me. Eileen."

"Huh? Ah... Eileen! Finally done running away, are we?" The man stunk of alcohol, and his phrasing reflected this fact. Eileen had trouble, but was able to understand the general meaning of these munched words.

"I would never do this, sir." Eileen chuckled. His head could barely reach the man's chest height. He focused on his target's expression with a sharp gaze.

"Well? Why are you here?" With his right hand, the man ruffled Eileen's fresh hair, and with his left, gulped down a glass of mint-flavored beer. Both of these actions irked Eileen, but his composure stayed ironclad.

"You really don't have much trust in me?" Eileen faked a pout and gazed at his own feet. The man raised a brow, before bursting into laughter. It caught the attention of some onlookers.

"I'm assuming you've brought what I asked you to?"

Eileen nodded and leaned forward. "It's a great housing. You're lucky that I didn't spread the address around." His voice leaked a trace of mischief, but the man failed to notice it.

"...Really?" The man whispered, glancing around the room.

"I would never lie to you."

A short silence ensued. The man rested his chin on the counter, giving Eileen a sidelong glance.

"How much area?"

"About fifty or so square meter."

"...Fifty." The man muttered under his breath. "How about the location?"

"A good five-minute walk from Hitobayashi Avenue. The road is pretty safe. I checked it myself." Eileen said in an upbeat tone, puffing his chest forward.

"Hmm..." Again, the man furrowed his brows. "...Then, for the price?" He asked in a faint voice. Eileen smiled, before announcing.

"It's free."

The man lost all of his accumulated drowsiness. He spun around before grabbing Eileen's shoulders.

"...Is that right?!" He screamed, flailing Eileen's light build back and forth. Chocked between two bear palms, Eileen tried to answer. "C-Certainly, sir."

"..." These confident words soothed the man. Eileen tested his luck. He escaped his grasp before leaning against the counter.

"Do we have a deal, then?" He said, meeting the man's gaze. It didn't take long for Eileen to receive both a delighted 'Yes' and a heavy leather wallet. In return, he slid a piece of paper in the man's palm.

"Perfect." Eileen glanced one last time at the man, who was about to order another beverage, before adding. "Oh, one more thing to add."

"Hmm? What is?" The man's attention shifted.

"If I were you, I'd go at night. The house is free because it is abandoned."

The man shrugged. "Then?"

"...This is rare knowledge, but..." Eileen leaned forward and whispered. "Apparently, the army failed to capture Neil. They're on the lookout everywhere."

Beads of sweat formed on the man's forehead, another layer on top of what the alcohol had created.

"...T-The Neil?" He asked. His eyes twitched around the room.

"Indeed. You get where I'm going, I presume."

There was a brief period of silence, before a loud thud echoed in the room. The man gave Eileen a grateful nod, before bolting out of the room. With a bit of mischief, Eileen raised his voice and waved his hand around.

"Pleasure doing business, sir!"

Eileen waited for the man to disappear. He peered at his coveted stool, put it back to its upright position, before sitting on it.

'It feels good.' 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Sometimes, people tried to stir up a conversation with Eileen. Given, with his current temper, it wasn't the wisest of decisions.

Right now, it was a woman, dressed in a seductive red dress and fancy golden earrings. Her golden hair danced, as though it had a will of its own. She was gorgeous, but Eileen found that perfection eerie.

"Hey, Eileen. What happened to you?" The woman chirped, striding near Eileen. The latter forced a hollow laugh.

"Miss Yoshida." Eileen said with his lips half-opened.

"Why don't you call me Ari, like everyone does?"

Eileen frowned at Ari's sensual smile. "I don't think that's the case. Why do you bother me? Or have you some business to talk about?"

Ari chuckled. "I'd rather not." She turned around and nudged the shoulder of her left neighbor. After some convincing, the man allowed his stool to be stolen by Ari. It was trivial, on the verge of making Eileen regret playing with the man earlier.

"You are a bad kid. Playing with that poor man's expectations." She slid her stool next to Eileen's before taking a sit. Her posture was both alluring and sleezy. The two shared a glance.

"Ah? Is that so bad, after all? Sorry, but I don't remember the man who lost half of the money I lent him as anything good."

"You're so spiteful. That's not an attitude for a child to have, dear."

Eileen threw a fatigued glare at Ari. His posture was falling apart like a castle of cards.

"Nice wording. You know I'm not a kid."

"Right, right. More importantly..." Ari's eyes lit up with wonder as she began running her hands through Eileen's homemade haircut.

"What's all of this for?" She paused, nor on Eileen's ugly expression, but rather his body. Cuts and bruises peeked out of his forearms and neck, with some dried blood lingering on the wounds.

"Hmm? That's right." Ari's lips curled up in a sadistic grin. "I've heard that the mighty Neil got outed this morning? What's up with that?"

Eileen scoffed. "Not outed. Busted."

Ari brought her hand to her cheek. "What's that?"

"Look, I'm here, right?" Eileen burst out in controlled anger, his attitude saturated with pride. "All well and safe, right? That's what matters."

His left ear caught a hot sigh. Ari shook her head with a tired expression, reminiscent of Eileen's.

"Is that why you cut your hair?"

Eileen gazed at the ceiling lamp. Scarlet, as always. Seeing this behavior, Ari continued.

"Does that have to include yourself?"

Again, Eileen answered in silence. Despite his closed-attitude, Ari grabbed his wrist with confidence.

"H-Hey, that hurts. Be kind, will you?" Eileen shot a dark glare at Ari, who found a nice pouch of amusement from this situation. However, she lessened the intensity of her grip.

"I have to heal you, right?" Ari chirped with a half-serious tone. Due to Eileen's low weight, he was pulled in her direction despite his best efforts. Using his foot as support didn't help either. When Eileen noticed a dozen or so gazes on him, he prayed for no more unwelcomed attention.

Ari dragged Eileen across the room like an old rag. Eventually, in the upper-left corner, they arrived at a sealed black door. Putting her dainty fingers around the handle, Ari pushed it open. It was a square room with blinding white walls. On the sides, two wooden benches and, straight ahead, a beige closet.

Helped by a shoulder strike, Eileen freed himself to sit on the nearest bench.

"Can you even heal me?" His face displayed a proud smug.

"I guess you'll figure it out." Without sparing a glance, Ari answered. She had opened the closet's left side and was rummaging through a messy cluster of items.

"I wish I didn't."

Ari let out a hollow laugh. From the unkept mess, she picked out a pair of scissors, some bandages and a gray spray. Her light footsteps carried a worrisome sense of carefreeness.

"Show me your wounds." Ari said while meeting Eileen's flickering gaze. Her flirtatious outfit didn't help either.

"..."

Eileen scoffed. However, he complied and removed his long-sleaves shirt. Underneath it was a narrow upper body, where skin and bones cohabited. Eileen was covered in a colorful array of hues; purple, to blue, then to red. The most concerning of all, however, was his arms.

Ari widened her eyes. "It's a spiral of scars. I didn't know you where an artist." She grabbed the spray and applied it with attention to detail. Muffled grunts escaped Eileen's mouth, whose shape grew uglier with time.

"And I surely didn't expect my make-shift doctor to be a comedian. Do you even know what you are doing?"

His words brought out crocodile tears out of Ari, who talked like a heart-broken maiden. "So mean. I'm disappointed."

"Really?"

"Indeed." Ari nodded. With commendable dexterity, she was wrapping the bandages around Eileen's most glaring wounds. His forearms and chest, and eventually, his face.

"Not that part. I'm good." Eileen deflected Ari's hand away. He rubbed the opening on his right cheek. It was dry and painless.

Ari caught both of Eileen's wrists and slammed them into the bench. Both could feel their breaths at this distance. The tip of their noses stroked.

"You can't do that, alright? Your face is going to get ruined at this rate."

Eileen held his breath. "...The herbs."

Ari frowned. Her green pupils stared into Eileen's. "What?"

"At least, give me the healing herbs. I don't want scars all over my skin."

Despite Eileen's bold statement, Ari didn't answer. The subtle motions of her cheeks seemed to muse the possibility. She stopped after a minute of silence and stood up, then turned around.

"I don't even know if we have some." Ari began rummaging the closet's contents once again. This time, the upper-right side. It was full of boxes of all sizes and shapes. Some were ornamented, others plain pieces of wood. "If we do, why should we care about you more than the others?"

Eileen tightened the grip of his bandages before talking. His voice carried around the room with new-found strength. "Because I'm the most wanted person out of you guys. The army is all over my body. A scar is too noticeable, they'll catch on these details immediately. Even today, I barely managed to slip out."

He received no answer, until Ari threw a square wooden box in his direction. Eileen caught it while limiting his shoulder motions.

"..Thanks?"

Again, Ari slammed the closet shut. "What, you're not even sure?" She sighed and added. "Never mind. I'll just have to get some supply tomorrow."

"Not my issue."

After removing the top of the box, Eileen was greeted with a bed of crumpled leaves and a scent of bitten mint. Shades of green battled in the cramped space. There was no way to figure out whether they were meant to be eaten, boiled or burned.

Eileen threw his hand in the box, grabbing a handful. In his palm, he divided the leaves into two piles. Left and right. He ate the left leaves and rubbed his wounds with the right ones.

There was a sudden shift in perspective.

In his head, the hard bench had transformed into a soft cotton pillow. The world felt lighter and the room was spinning around. White, beige; any color glittered. Particles peeled off the walls, enveloping Eileen in a soft warmth. He was dizzy, yet in full control of his body.

From a meter afar, Ari watched the scene. Eileen's eyes were twitching upwards, and his mouth was gaping. The most noticeable, however, were the tiny lights that Eileen's face produced. They were both fascinating and eerie. Wounds closed and reopened in succession until soft skin replaced them. That process repeated itself about five or six times.

Ari walked to Eileen's position, grabbing the cleaning supplies from the bench and what remained of the greenish powder. She began ordering them back in the closet.

"Eileen? You there?"

"I'm good."

His answer wasn't the most convincing.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Eileen regretted everything. He had a headache, similar to hammering a nail right into his skull. Even the smallest of motion was impossible with such a heavy-feeling body.

"Ugh..."

A strange grunt escaped Eileen's lips. He could discern the vague shapes of his surroundings. In addition, a blond human silhouette.

"You're up. Finally." A voice rung out. It seemed familiar, yet the roughness was foreign. In slow increments, his vision was clearing up. From an opaque fog to a slight blur. And, eventually, Eileen noticed her. Ari, leaning against a wall, with the deepest frown that she had ever shown him.

"Umm..."

"Don't bother." Ari fired without giving Eileen a chance. Her venom words continued. "That's why I hate using these leaves. Do you know how annoying it is, having to slap your cheeks once or twice per minute to make sure you're even alive?"

"Well... No, I don't."

Ari laughed with blatant sarcasm. "Exactly. All for your sleezy-looking face."

Her words were a reminder. Eileen widened his eyes, before sliding his fingers down his cheeks. It was a smooth feeling throughout.

"Ah? Am I so unattractive now?" A misplaced sense of pride escaped Eileen's words.

"I could say so." Ari paused, staring at the boy's dumbfounded face. "You're too skinny, like a starving child. Oh, I guess you do look like a child, huh? Not so handsome after all. Some might call you cute, though."

The room turned cold, but Ari didn't catch the shift in temperature. While wobbling and with shivering legs, Eileen stood up. He wanted to scoff, but Ari's words had hurt a particular nerve in his ego.

"I'm going." He walked up to the door in an unbalanced gait. After a step of two, Eileen sensed something pulling on his left ar. It was Ari and her mocking glances.

"Without my help?" She chirped.

"..."

"I thought so too, dear."

The two walked out of the room in silence. Inside of the main building, the activity had stopped bustling. A couple of drunk or passed out customers, whose faces were lit up scarlet, filled the scene. Alcohol and sweat blended together into a dizzying scent spread across every corner. As Eileen and Ari arrived at the counter, both took a sit on a separate stool.

"Is it three in the morning?" Eileen asked, resuming his usual slouched position.

"Four, rather." Ari corrected, emphasizing the mistake. "Why?"

Eileen chuckled. "Why do you think I'm asking?"

"I know. You could take a hotel in the city. Surely, they won't recognize you there, right?"

From his trousers' pocket, Eileen took out the leather wallet that he'd received earlier. Its contents were shallow. He skimmed through them with a disappointed expression.

"Two-hundred ninety-five."

Ari nodded and held a serious expression. "For a scam, that's pretty good."

"That's barely a night's fees. Never mind that option." Eileen's posture reached a new low point. Even a sloth's would be more agreeable that his.

"Just sleep at the bar. Better than starving in the slums-"

Then, one of Eileen's nerves snapped.

"Ah, it's too bothersome!" He left both the stool and Ari hanging, who both seemed to shout some inaudible gibberish.

Perhaps, the herbs' effects still lingered in his blood.