The night was heavy with rain, the kind that clung to everything and made the alleys glisten like mirrors. Kurt had been moving quietly, leaping from shadow to shadow, tail curling instinctively behind him. The mission was supposed to be simple—intel gathering, nothing flashy, nothing loud. But the sound of laughter, cruel and jagged, froze him mid-step.

He crept closer, his pointed ears twitching at every syllable.

Three men stood in a half-circle, rifles slung lazily in their hands, grinning like predators. Between them, pressed against a crumbling wall, was a child. Small, impossibly thin, his limbs trembling as if they could barely hold him up. But it wasn’t his size that made Kurt’s stomach clench.

The boy was blue. His skin the same shade as Kurt’s own, his eyes burning gold in the dim light. A tail—thin, spaded—curled around his bare legs protectively. He was maybe seven, eight years old, staring at the ground like he could disappear if he just wished hard enough.

One of the men leaned down, sneering. “What are you supposed to be, huh? Some circus reject?” He poked the boy with the muzzle of his gun, making him flinch. “Freak like you don’t belong anywhere.”

The others laughed, throwing words like knives. “Monster.” “Abomination.”

Kurt’s chest burned. It was too familiar. Too much like whispers he had heard all his life, the same cruel mockery that had followed him since he was a child. But this—this was worse. This was a defenseless boy, alone and cornered.

He didn’t even realize he had moved until smoke curled around him, sulfur filling the air. He reappeared between the men and the boy, fangs bared, golden eyes glowing with something far darker than usual. His tail lashed behind him, sharp as a whip.

“Genug,” Kurt snarled, voice thick with fury. “Enough.”

The men staggered back, startled by his sudden appearance. One raised his weapon, but Kurt’s glare cut through him like steel. “If you wish to fight someone, fight me. Leave the child.”

Behind him, Kurt felt the boy cling weakly to the back of his jacket, small fingers trembling but desperate. Kurt shifted slightly, shielding him with his body.

“Not so brave now, are you?” one man spat. “Two freaks in one night.”

Kurt teleported again, reappearing behind him in a swirl of smoke, disarming the man with a sharp kick before he could blink. Another tried to raise his gun, but Kurt’s tail wrapped around the barrel, yanking it away with inhuman strength. He fought quickly, efficiently—anger sharpened his movements, but his focus never wavered. He would not let them near the child.

Within moments, the men were gone—disarmed, unconscious, sprawled in the wet alley. The only sound was the rain again, steady and cold.

Kurt turned slowly, crouching down so he was eye-level with the boy. His expression softened, the fury fading into something gentle. “Es ist vorbei,” he said softly. “It’s over. You’re safe now.”

The boy’s golden eyes blinked up at him, wide and wet. He tilted his head—so much like Kurt himself had done as a child—and then, tentatively, he reached out.

Kurt let him, taking the boy’s small hand carefully in his own.

“You’re not alone anymore, kleine,” Kurt whispered, voice breaking just slightly. “Not anymore.”