Not A Normal Fish

Growl~~~~

Carlos emptied the plastic bucket beside him with a parched, dry look. The bucket plummeted onto the brownish grass, the murky water inside it leaking.

"Ugh... I've been fishing for hours now! Didn't I at least catch some in the process?" He muttered in frustration. His tattered, snow-white T-shirt clung tightly to his skin, revealing his emaciated abdomen and the striking paleness of his abs. His hunched back bent further so that he could crane his neck and peer down at the murky river.

Dozens of little fish swam rapidly down the stream like rocket launchers, gliding by him with little attention to his shining eyes. Carlos mumbled something under an audible, shuddery breath before lifting his fishing pole.

"It's now or never. I can already see the Styx! What else am I afraid of now!" He shouted passionately and allowed the hook to dig into the river's murky surface. His eyes scanned the rushing waters readily. He recalled a nostalgic saying. To observe a fish.

If he was a fish, so to speak, what would he do? The young man thought deeply into the question. He pictured himself in the dim water. The little light filtering through the surface shining onto the scales enshadowing his body. Light bouncing off his smoothlined body. He was skidding through the water, nimbly and freely. Several other fish were swimming alongside him, with their beady eyes glimmering with strange light.

Suddenly, the hook bobbed and Carlos vaguely sensed something solid grabbing onto the bait. The fishing line tightened with his grip. Excitement filled his body as he exclaimed happily, "Now!"

Both his hands firmly held the fishing pole as he lifted the other end and swiftly trapped the prey in a bucket. Exhaling the breath he had unconsciously held, he slowly moved closer and brought his hands together to hold the bobbing bucket. Peering inside, a smile creased his lips shortly before he covered the bucket with a lid.

"Haha! Not bad, kiddo! Not bad at all!" A gravelly yet strong voice called out to him from the small rondavel some distance away. Carlos turned around smilingly to face the grizzled man who sat at the stone doorstep, cross-legged.

The man's long, white hair was tied in a ponytail that hung low at his waistline. He wore a pure white kimono with a powder blue obi at his waistline. A warm smile was plastered on the man's wrinkled face as he exclaimed, "Kiddo, you finally did it! Dinner for you will be steamed vegetables and roasted eel!"

Carlos' expression changed rapidly. He had been eating tea on rice for two weeks straight that his tongue had grown numb and his stomach had denied any more. He had even lost weight. Finally! At last! Tears rimmed his rosey eyelids as he cried out in joy.

"Grandfather, when is dinner?" He inquired happily to the grizzled elder who was standing up.

"Oh, right," grandfather paused and turned to his grandson with a strange look in his eye. His head lowered thoughtfully, stray silver strands of his long white hair falling over his forehead.

"Hm? Is there something wrong grandfather?" Carlos asked.

"Yes, I remember now! There's no dinner for today!" The old man suddenly said, a smile lighting up his wrinkled face in realization.

"But...you said I could eat when I caught a fish..." His pale face became even paler.

Carlos' grandfather heaved a sigh before facing his fifteen-year-old grandson. The composure in his eyes made the young man even more confused.

Carlos' parents had perished in a road accident a year ago. Since then, he lived with his strange grandfather. The old man, who was rarely spotted by others, had suddenly intruded into Carlos' household on the day of the funeral.

It had been a grim and cloudy day.

A boy with black hair had lain on the white linoleum floor in front of two wooden coffins. He was not crying but his eyes were cold and lifeless. The adults had crowded in a corner of the hall, discussing in low tones. Their figures had somehow weaved into the darkness of that niche.

"Hah...Poor child. His parents died such an untimely demise. He must be devastated."

"But he's not crying, is he? And look at his eyes. I've never seen someone with crimson eyes."

"I heard that the boy is cursed. Since he was born, nothing but accursed things befell his parents and their acquaintances."

"Yes! I heard that rumor too! Even the boy's friends...they...."

"Ugh, how awful...and now the parents...anyone who takes him in must be mad..."

'Stop. Stop it.'

"Cursed boy...he should be jailed..."

'Please. Stop.'

Many whispers crammed his mind until his head hosted a burning ache. The small boy brought his head closer to his chest, his toes curling at the throbbing pain in his skull.

'Mum, dad, what do I do?'

'I'm cursed. Nobody likes me...nobody wants me.'

'You lied; you said we would be together forever. Where are you, dad, mum...'

Suddenly, a voice devoid of the demeaning tone of other people reached out to the small boy from the darkness.

"Carlos, come with me."

The dark-haired boy slowly brought his face up, his emotionless eyes fixing themselves on the old man draped in a black kimono. This old man had long, snow-white hair and the old man's eyes were placid and unruffled as they gazed down at the pitiful boy. The boy pursed his lips and said softly, "You pity me as well."

The old man squatted, coming down to his eye level. Suddenly, he smiled and stretched out his thin arm, ruffling the boy's black hair. "You bet I do, but that ain't so bad, right? A lot of people pity me too. I guess..." his smile widened, revealing his egg shell-white teeth, "we're similar."

The boy's eyes widened slightly at the unknown man's words. He lifted his small hand to touch his disheveled hair and could still feel the sensation of the stranger's hand upon it. The man's hand had been warm and filled with concern, unlike the cold hands of his relatives who had gazed at him derisively.

"Do you think I am cursed?" the boy inquired glumly. He thought that the old man would also believe that he was cursed, and that he was one who killed his parents. He waited gloomily for a condescending reply, or a look of repugnance from the old man. But neither of those came.

Instead, the old man laughed loudly, attracting the attention of the other people who looked back at the two inquisitively. The people's gazes changed when they saw the old man.

"Hey, isn't that..."

"Yes. It's that crazy old man who claims to be a demon-slayer..."

"What? Such people exist?"

"Is he here to take claim on his grandson..."

"Perhaps...he has always been crazy..."

The dark-haired boy heard the murmurs and his crimson eyes flickered to the old man, his eyes dilated. "You...are my grandfather?" He wanted to inquire about the other things he had heard, about demon-slaying but he did not mention them. He gazed quietly at the old man who only grinned toothily.

"You've heard them, chap. I'm off my rocker, apparently. But I am your grandfather, and my feelings for you are not fabricated from some savior syndrome," he said in a gravelly tone, his eyes warming with concern, "I do love you, Carlos."

The boy's gloomy eyes were abruptly surging with light and awe at the man's, his grandfather's, words. Something saline and wet stung the corners of his eyes before gushing from his orbs like a river that had broken its banks. He brought his soft, trembling hands to his cheeks, using his sleeve to rub off the tears. The rims of his shirt soon became soaked with tears, but he continued mopping off the tears that simply could not stop coming out.

"What...what is this? Why am I...am I...crying...?" His eyes filled with bafflement before a warm, callused hand fell into his vision, offering him a clean cloth to dab his tears with. He looked at his grandfather and, picking the handkerchief, his gaze became still again as a firmness was instilled within them. "I...please...take me with you," he pleaded, his voice trembling but the rigidity in his gaze profound and abysmal. Those were not the eyes of a cursed child.

The old man smiled. "That's all I've ever wanted, Carlos."