Ryu

So this was new.

Ryu had been alive a very, very long time. Centuries, actually. He had served dozens of Masters. Some kind, some cruel. Some great, some pathetic. Men and women, old and young. But this was new.

He'd never served a Master who wasn't a mage. Who didn't know what Ryu was. Who didn't even believe in magic.

Where did he even begin? Should he try to prove the existence of magic? If he had more energy that would be easy enough, but he needed time to rebuild his store of magic. Should he try to tell her his story, omitting those parts she would disbelieve? That was painfully close to lying to her. Should he simply answer her questions, and only hope she asked the right ones?

That might be the best way, at least for the moment.

“So. Breakfast?” Claire suggested.

Oh, this might be a problem.

Ryu did not need to consume food to survive; he lived off of magic. He could, if he wanted, process some small amounts of food. Just for the taste. He required energy to do that, though, and after healing he had basically nothing left. It would take time before he could eat. More time than a human body could safely go without ingesting food.

What if she ordered him to eat?

Ryu followed the children into the kitchen, warily. The children had seemed kind enough last night, but that was when he'd been nothing but a pitiful lost waif. Now they knew he was something different and strange. If they decided different also meant dangerous, their gentle kindness would quickly become cruelty. It had happened before.

“I didn't make much,” Jacob said, “just something quick. Toast, eggs, some juice. I hope that's okay.”

“Hey, you're giving me free food. I have no complaints,” Claire said, taking a seat around a small, circular table.

Ryu took a seat next to Claire. The chairs were crowded around the little table, which was obviously meant to seat only two, not four, diners. Josh sat on Claire's other side, after handing a short stack of plates to his brother at the stove.

“I'm really not hungry,” Ryu protested.

Jacob approached the table with a skillet.

“It's been a while since you've eaten anything, hasn't it?” Claire asked gently.

He nodded once. It was the truth. Although her idea of a while was probably set in days or weeks, and it had in fact been months since he had consumed solid food.

“You won't want to eat too much, or anything too heavy,” Josh said. “We get that.”

A slice of toast, lightly buttered, was dropped onto the plate in front of him. Claire stood and opened the pristine white refrigerator, bringing out a carton of orange juice. She poured him a cup of that.

“Maybe just the juice and toast,” she suggested. “Think you can manage that much?”

He really couldn't. Well. He could drink the juice fairly safely. It felt strange to have his Master serve him. Even though she had no idea that's what she was now. He wasn't looking forward to that conversation.

“I promised you coffee, didn't I?” Jacob piped up from where he was dividing a skillet full of fluffy, golden eggs onto three other plates.

Ryu debated. On the one hand, the juice and toast would be a lot for his still injured body to process. On the other hand, he could smell the coffee freshly brewed in the pot. He didn't need to drink coffee, no, but then neither did most humans. The caffeine would have little effect on him but the flavor. Oh, he missed the flavor.

Apparently, some of his longing must have shown, because even though he hesitated to answer, a large, steaming mug was placed in front of him. He wrapped his hands around it, savoring the warmth and aroma.

“Jacob makes the best coffee,” Claire announced, accepting her own mug and hugging it to her chest. “Like, better than the coffee shops in town.”

Jacob shrugged, his cheeks turning a little pink at the praise. “I just, y'know, make it like Grandpa did. That's all.”

Josh took his own mug. “I wish I could get it right... never can.”

“That's because you treat coffee like chemistry,” Jacob said.

“Coffee is chemistry. Everything is chemistry,” Josh retorted.

Jacob sat down with his mug. “No, coffee is art.”

Claire chuckled and sipped her coffee. Ryu watched the brothers for a moment but determined that the argument was just normal behavior for them. He lifted the coffee to his lips and took a cautious sip.

It was perfect. Just a hair shy of too hot, bitter but with the hint of sweetness well-prepared coffee could boast. He closed his eyes and took a moment to appreciate a simple, rare pleasure.

“I think you have spoiled another one for ever drinking coffee shop coffee,” Josh announced.

Ryu nodded over his mug, taking another sip. This was the best coffee he'd tasted since... oh... at least since before WWII.

He thought perhaps he should keep that particular thought to himself. They had yet to accept the concept of magic. His true age was a shock he'd wait to deliver.

He savored his coffee while the children ate their eggs and toast. He felt energized enough, either through the placebo effect of caffeine or from Claire's proximity, to try and take a couple bites of toast. Not much, no, but soaked in the coffee it was tolerable. The children were obviously worried about how little he ate, but they didn't try to force him. He was glad of that.

Once it was clear that everyone was finished, Ryu stood and tried to gather the dishes. It was only fair, after all.

“That's okay, you're a guest,” Josh was quick to protest. “I've got this.”

“But...” Ryu trailed off. He glanced down at his left hand, curled around a plate. His hand was visibly shaking. He wasn't afraid or hungry, so why?

Oh.

He didn't yet have the strength even to carry a few plates.

"Here, I've got it.” Claire took the plates from him, movements slow and gentle. He tried to hold onto the plate, not out of stubbornness but because he needed to know. She plucked the dish from his grip with no sign she even noticed his resistance.

Disturbed, Ryu looked at his hand, and the fresh scar caught the light. Right. It would take time for the damage his former master had done to heal. His strength would return. Surely he would not be so weak forever.

Josh and Claire worked together to clean up breakfast, washing and storing away dishes with the easy movements of longtime friends. Claire must spend a great deal of time with the brothers; she never needed to ask where anything belonged. By the same token, she had slept on a couch, so this was not her home. Where did she live? Would she have room for Ryu, or was he going to have to figure out some other living arrangement? He couldn't be far from her for long.

He needed to come up with some way to explain that to her.

How was he even going to bring up that subject? She had helped a stranger in the storm, not signed up for a lifetime companion!

“Ah, Ryu?” Claire spoke. “I think we need to talk.”

Of course. He braced himself, following the children to the living room. He took a seat on the couch. Claire handed him a blanket. He wrapped himself up in it, as much because holding it in place gave him something to do with his hands as for the comfort and warmth.

Claire sat next to him on the couch, the brothers flopped down on large pillows on the ground. It would have been nice, and cozy, maybe, if not for the trembling Ryu couldn't quite hide.

“You don't have to be afraid,” Claire said. “I mean, I know I kind of technically kidnapped you, but I promise, you're safe here. I only want to help you.”

Her words sounded so sincere, so certain. Ryu wished he could believe she was just what she seemed to be, but people were rarely what they looked like. Still, she had saved his life and she was his Master now. He owed her at least the benefit of the doubt she had bargained for. She had, after all, kept her promise to him. The manacles were gone and she had not forced him to go to the hospital against his will.

“Why?” he asked. “You don't know me. Why did you save me? What do you want?"

“Nothing. I just... you needed help. I couldn't very well ignore you!” Claire insisted.

“You'd hardly be the first,” Ryu said. How many of his Master's neighbors had seen him, had seen the bruises and the blood, and just looked away.

Claire frowned. “I'm sorry. That shouldn't happen.”

Ryu shrugged. “Human nature is what it is, Lady. You're not responsible for it.”

“I guess not.” Claire took a deep breath, obviously bracing herself for a difficult discussion.

“Who are you running from?” Josh asked.

Ryu looked down at him, startled. “My Master. Former. My former master.”

“I guess why is pretty obvious,” Jacob commented. “I'd run from a psycho like that, too. But, um.”

“What we need to know is,” Claire said, “who is your former master? What's the name?”

“Why would you need to know that?” Ryu asked.

“So I know who to punch in the face,” Claire muttered and then shook her head. “They hurt you. That's wrong; it's also illegal. We need to report this to the authorities.”

“You can't!” Ryu didn't want to beg. But he might have to. If the authorities became involved, he would either be given back to his former master, or he would find himself in the hands of human scientists.

He wouldn't survive being the subject of study again. He'd barely made it the last time. And if his former Master found him he wouldn't hesitate to hurt these children, even kill them, to reclaim Ryu.

“Why not?” Claire asked.

Ryu had to come up with something. He'd start with the parts of the truth she'd understand.

“My master, my former master,” Ryu shook his head. He shouldn't be stumbling over this. He'd been freed from him when the manacles were cut, and now Claire was his Master because he'd been idiot enough to bleed all over the poor child. He knew he no longer served that man. After so many times passed from master to master it shouldn't be so hard to adjust his speech.

“My former master,” Ryu started again. “Is rich, and powerful, and well-liked by other rich, powerful men. I don't have a name.” Well, he did now. But not one the human authorities would accept. “Who will be believed, him or me?”

“They always say that,” Claire said. “The abusers. They always tell the little ones that no one will believe them. That they're the adults and you're just a kid, so no one will listen. But you're not just a kid. And I'll believe you. Whatever you tell me. Just give me the chance.”

Maybe. Maybe he should. He had to tell her sometime. It might as well be now.

“I'm not what you think I am. I'm not a child to be coddled and protected. I'm not even human.” It was hard to say the words. Once, he'd been proud of what he was.

“What are you then?” Claire's voice was steady, curious. No sign on her face of the disbelief she must feel. She was doing her best. She deserved the truth.

“I'm a familiar.”