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Loveless	By : LadyDorian Category: +G through L > Generator Rex Views: 1682 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Generator Rex, nor am I profiting from this fic in any way.

Chapter List
- 1-One
- 2-Dos
- 3-IV
- 4-Knight
- 5-Rex
- 1
- 2
One.

I couldn't stand living at the orphanage. Technically, they called it a "group home," but I knew it as Purgatory. Day after day, I watched tired husks of children shuffle through the halls, waiting for the hour of their liberation. The only time they stopped sulking was whenever their prospective parents came around. Then, they'd put on their best clothes and saddest expressions and pray their charms had some effect. The adults were no better; they examined each child like they were choice cuts of meat. It was unbearable to watch. I missed my parents deeply, and was not about to whore myself out to hungry strangers. I was far too proud for that.
I ran away every chance I could get. Sometimes they brought me back with kind words, other times with stern warnings. They sent me to counseling, tried to indoctrinate me with religious teachings. They assumed their words would break me, but I was set in my ways. After a while, they stopped chasing me. I was unsure if I had skillfully eluded them, or if they had given up on me altogether. Only one thing was certain: At the young age of eleven, I was free to the world.
Living on the streets, the days all seemed to blend together. They were always cold and overcast, and the night fell far too early. After two weeks I lost track of time completely. How long had I been out there? Two months? Three? Six? It didn't matter much to me. The only thing on my mind was finding adequate food and shelter to make it until morning. I begged, I stole, I slept in abandoned subway tunnels and crackhouses; I lived my life one day at a time, never looking too far into the future. In my opinion, there wasn't much to look forward to, anyway.

The morning I met him was like any other day. I had just perused the dumpster behind Golden Sun Chinese restaurant, and at the moment was sitting in the alley enjoying some cold rice and half-eaten egg rolls. In the distance, I could hear one of the regular streetwalkers playing a lonely melody on the sax. I made a note to myself to swipe some of his earnings as I passed later on. Maybe then I could at least score a hot meal.
As I ate, I watched the shoes of the pedestrians as they hurried past. I was intrigued by the variety of styles and colors that I saw. They were always different, like the stripes on the stray cats I would sometimes play with. And they were always rushing from one destination to the next. Which is why I was rather surprised when a pair of shiny brown loafers stopped in front of me.
"What's a young man like you doing all alone out here?"
I glanced up at the voice. The man appeared to be in his 40s, with short gray hair and a neatly-trimmed beard. Pale blue eyes were set deep in a wrinkled, smiling face. He wore a crisp, tan suit with a matching Fedora, and in his right hand he carried a cane adorned with a carved dragon's head. It looked far too ornate for walking. I wondered how much a pawn shop would pay for it.
I found my eyes glued to him. People usually only stopped long enough to toss a few dollars or some spare change. But this man seemed to want a conversation. I quickly turned my head away, figuring my silence would drive him off, but instead he stepped into the alley and crouched down directly in front of me.
"Do you have any parents?" he asked.
Quietly, I shook my head.
"What about any other family?"
After the car accident that had claimed my parents' lives, I was told that no family members or guardians could be found with whom they could place me. In my heart I knew they just couldn't find anyone who wanted me. I stifled a sob and pulled my dingy green hoodie closer around me. I didn't feel much like talking at the moment.
The old man pressed on. "Do you have anywhere to go?"
"No," I seethed. "What's it matter to you, anyway? You a social worker or something?" Already, I could feel hot tears stinging my cheeks. I hated this man for making me cry.
"No, no, I'm just a concerned old man, nothing more." He leaned back against the wall and cautiously lowered himself into a sitting position. "Come to think of it, I've seen you around here before, haven't I? Though usually you're running from the police. You're a rather fast one, really. I'm surprised you're still sitting here with me."
Yeah, so am I, I thought. I could have easily lost this guy, but I didn't. For some reason I was frozen in place. It had been so long since I talked to another person, maybe I just wanted some company, even from a strange old man like him.
"Are you hungry at all?"
I was starving, but at the time all I could think of was how dirty this man's pristine suit was going to become. I watched as he reached inside his jacket and produced a small, wrapped candy. He held it out to me. "Sorry, but this is all I have right now." I fixed him with a curious stare. "It's ok," he persisted, "I won't bite."
His hand was warm; I let my fingers linger there as I reached for his offering. He smiled kindly as he watched me unwrap the candy and pop it into my mouth. It tasted funny, but I tried not to make a face. I wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my hoodie, muttering a weak "Thanks."
I expected him to leave then, his good deed having been done, but he took a deep breath and continued on. "I know this may sound strange, but if you need somewhere to stay, I have a place."
I raised my eyebrow at him. Surely this man must be nuts.
"You won't be alone, of course. There are other children."
"Oh, like an orphanage? There's no way in hell I'm ever going back to one of those." I sucked on my candy and shot him a suspicious glare.
The man tried to calm my apprehension. "It's not an orphanage, per se, it's more like a boarding school of sorts, only you'll be free to come and go as you please. There's food and hot water, warm beds. There are other children there, just like you. The world may have thrown you away, but I can give you a second chance at life—a chance to fulfill your hidden potential." He gave my shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Please, it would mean the world to me if you would just stay one night."
I'm still not sure why I decided to go with him. Maybe it was because the air was so cold and his voice so warm and embracing. Maybe I realized I didn't have anything to lose, living out there with the drunks and crackheads. Not like I actually believed all that crap about having potential. He could've done anything he wanted to me and it still would have been better than my current situation. I just didn't care.
I solemnly nodded, and the old man carefully rose to his feet. He stretched out a welcoming hand, which I gladly grasped. And together we strode off.
As I gazed back at the dank, narrow alley I had once called home, I had no idea just how much my life was about to change.
It began the moment I took his hand.

He told me his name was One, and that he was the master of a large dojo in the mountains. I thought "One" was a funny name for a person, but I didn't question him. I simply sat and looked out the car window as One talked about martial arts and training regiments and whatnot. He asked me questions every so often (mostly "Are you doing well?" or "Why don't you tell me some of the things you like?"), but avoided touching on any painful topics. I wasn't in the mood for talking, and answered mostly with single words and silent nods. One never seemed to let my moodiness bother him, though. He just smiled and kept on driving.
When we reached the sprawling, Japanese-style mansion, we were greeted by several small children and teenagers, all of whom seemed very excited to see One. I hid behind the car as he tried to introduce me, though I caught a look of curiosity on some of the kids' faces. One ushered me inside, past the crowd of on-lookers, promising them that proper introductions would be made during supper.
We walked through the garden and into the house, where he led me to my room. It was plain yet elegant, with a tatami mat floor and a single futon in the center. Light from the setting sun drifted in through the open window, turning the space a bright orange. I gazed up at One. "This whole room is mine?" Back at the orphanage, I had shared my quarters with three other people.
He nodded. "Why don't you wash up before we eat? I'll get you a change of clothes. What's your favorite color?"
"Green."
"Well then, I'll see if I can find something green for you to wear." One turned to leave, beckoning me to follow. "Come, I'll show you where the bathroom is."
At dinner I was given a warm welcome. One explained to me that most of the kids there were either orphans or were cast out by their families. For unwanted children, they all looked quite content to me. They were smiling and chatting with each other like they didn't have a care in the world. I was jealous of what they had; I'd spent so much time living on the street when I could've had happiness like this. When I looked at them seated around the table, I saw a group of people that were deserving of the word "family."
I leaned in and whispered to One, "Excuse me, s-sir…but do you think I could maybe stay here? For a while, I mean?"
I found my answer in his smile.

Life at the dojo was challenging, to say the least. From the start, One had told me that I would be training to become a member of the Kurohana, a band of highly-skilled mercenaries, of which he was the leader.
"From this moment on, you are bound to the Clan of the Black Flower. This is your home, your family. You will live and die for them. Your training will be difficult, but rewarding. You will want to give up many times, but you must keep at it. If you choose to leave, then you can never return to this place." He placed both hands on my shoulder and gave a light squeeze. "I have faith in you, child."
One was right. Each day I was up at dawn for morning calisthenics and mixed martial arts training. In addition to physical activity, we were schooled in academics and Buddhist philosophy. We meditated several times a day. After lessons, we engaged in swordplay and gymnastics. By the time night fell, I was thoroughly exhausted.
One taught us everything personally. On the rare occasions when he was off on a mission, we were left in the care of a heavily-accented man named Dos. Those were the days I suffered most. One was strict but never cruel; he was tough but never violent. Dos was just a slave driver. He pushed me to my limits, and I remember constantly stumbling and struggling, wishing for a moment of rest but receiving no assistance. Still, I pushed aside my negative thoughts and attacked my training head-on. Because I wanted to stay here with my family. Most importantly, because I wanted to make One proud.
The constant need to impress One propelled me through my first few years there. When times were hard, I thought of the man who had saved me from a bleak, lonely existence that cold day in the city. I thought of all I owed him, and all the gratitude I had yet to show. I promised myself that someday I would pay him back.
Whenever I thought of these things, I couldn't help but smile. The past didn't matter to me anymore; there was only my future here, with One.

By the time I reached puberty, I began to realize that I wasn't like most of the boys at the dojo. While they spent their time preoccupied with the opposite sex, I focused solely on my studies. I was at the top of my class in Kendo, and I had already devoured almost every book in the library. In my eyes, I was well on my way to becoming One's favorite. I had no time for silly distractions.
But all my determination couldn't stop the urges of youth. I soon discovered that I would become hard at the most inopportune times: during math lessons, after a particularly tiresome training session, or even while trying to meditate. I knew for certain that it wasn't the girls in class that caused me to be like this. Once, a pink-haired girl named Frances had caught me by surprise in the courtyard, pushing me back against the wall and roughly pressing her lips to mine. When that happened, I felt nothing, not even a twinge of excitement (much to the girl's annoyance). It seemed the only passion I felt was in pleasing One.
One must have sensed the constant fluctuation of hormones amongst the older kids, because soon after my "urges" began, Dos started giving the teens sex-ed lessons. We were given condoms and taught about safe sex and the various changes going through our own bodies. Dos said that we were free to date whoever we pleased, but added the stern warning: "Don't ever let personal relationships interfere with your work." We knew the truth behind his words. In this line of work, the slightest distraction could be the difference between life and death. Besides, we had always been taught to project an air of calm collectedness at all times, taking great care to keep our emotions in check.
But that wasn't the most important thing I learned from Dos' class. The best lesson that sex-ed taught me was how to masturbate. I can't remember how often I spent beneath the covers of my futon, pinching my nipples and tugging on my cock until my toes curled and my semen spilled onto the sheets. At first I would just close my eyes and lose myself in the pleasure I felt, but as time progressed, my thoughts took a bizarre turn.
I remembered when it first happened. It was early morning, and I was jerking off as usual before the dawn alarm rang. My hand stroked my slick cock slowly, enjoying myself thoroughly. As I felt my climax approaching, I let out a low moan and closed my eyes. And at that moment, I pictured something I never had before. In my mind, I saw One. I pictured his smiling face, his kind eyes. I remembered how warm my hand had felt in his. At that moment, I exploded in a fit of passion, the likes of which I had never felt until then. I opened my eyes, gasping for breath. In the distance, the morning bell began ringing.

Whenever I touched myself after that, I thought of One. What would his hands feel like on my skin? How would his lips feel against mine? I knew nothing of sex, but I knew I wanted One to teach me. I wanted to be close to him. I wanted him to embrace me, to kiss me like I was his one and only. I should've felt ashamed for thinking of my mentor in such a perverse manner, but I kept telling myself this was more than just the immature physical attraction the other students often felt. This was deeper. For years I had admired One from a distance—had idolized him almost—and now I wanted more. After all, hadn't everything I'd done since I came here been for him? He was all I ever thought about; he was the first man I ever truly loved.
But what could I have done? I was an inexperienced fourteen-year-old chasing after a middle-aged man. How could I tell him? How could I expect him to take me seriously? I held all these thoughts inside me until I felt I would burst. And when I couldn't take it anymore, I gathered up the courage I had and went to see One.
I caught him while he was meditating in his room one night. He had lit several candles, and the flames were causing eerie shadows to flicker across the walls. At first I was afraid he would view my sudden intrusion as disrespectful, but when he noticed me standing silently in the doorway, he simply smiled and beckoned me to enter. I shut the door behind me before turning to him and bowing. "Sensei, could I speak with you?"
"Of course. Please, come sit by me and tell me what's on your mind." His voice was gentle and caring. It enveloped me like a warm blanket.
I slowly approached, kneeling before him. My heart was pounding in my ears; I bowed my head slightly and tried to gather my thoughts. One was waiting patiently for me to speak. "Sensei, are you…Do I make you proud?"
One chuckled kindly. "Of course you do. You're one of my best pupils. Why would I not be proud of you?"
When I glanced up, I was greeted by his smiling face. It gave me the courage to push on. "I just…don't want you to regret bringing me here."
"You've no need to worry over such things, Dwight. I brought you here because I saw potential in you. You haven't once let me down."
His eyes glimmered in the candlelight. I felt tears of joy welling up inside me, but I forced them back down. I wanted to show One that I was mature enough to keep control of my emotions. "Thank you, Sensei."
"Is that all you wanted to talk to me about?" he asked.
Now was my opportunity to move forward. I hesitated before asking, "Do you think I could stay with you for a while?"
He nodded. "If it will make you feel better, you can stay here until bedtime."
My heart leapt at his words. I sprang to my feet and moved beside him, resituating myself into a meditating positing. I sat there quietly for a few minutes, listening to the sound of One's breathing and the crackling of the flames around us. As close as we were, it wasn't enough for me. Very slowly, I began to move, stretching out my legs and sinking down until my head was resting comfortably in One's lap. I was nervous as hell, fearing he would be disgusted by my touch. But he didn't shy away or ask me to move. Instead, he placed a hand on my head and calmly stroked my hair.
The cotton of his robes was soft against my cheek. When his fingers touched me, small waves of electricity began to flow through my body. Lying there so close to him, I felt at peace. I felt happy.
I was silent for some time, simply content being in his presence. When I next spoke, it was to ask a question that had been on my mind since the day we'd met. "Sensei, why do they call you 'One'?"
His hand came to a rest beside my ear. "Some consider me to be the most dangerous man in the world."
I turned my head to look up at him. "But, Sensei, why would they think that?" Though he was an expert in martial arts (and had even kicked my ass in training on several occasions), I thought One too kind to be such a threat
He smiled. "That's because I would do anything to protect the ones that I love. There is nothing I wouldn't destroy, nothing I wouldn't sacrifice to ensure their safety. I would even give my own life. Do you understand?"
I nodded. "So…do you love me, sensei?" I had been struggling to ask that question all night.
"I love and care for all my children," he replied. "You really shouldn't preoccupy yourself with such worries." He gave my head a light pat. "Now, you should be heading off to bed. Tomorrow is another day."
I would have given anything to spend the night with him, but I reluctantly obliged. One stood before me and we both bowed our goodbyes. However, before I turned to leave, I did something out of the ordinary: I threw my arms around his neck, embracing him tightly. I received no reaction from One. He just stood there motionless, arms limp at his sides. Defiantly, I tried again, this time pulling back slightly and planting a quick kiss on his cheek. When I looked at his face, I saw that his expression had remained unchanged. He was still sporting the kind smile that he always wore. "That's enough," he gently breathed. "You should get back to your room now; it's time for bed."
At that moment, the realization swept over me. One didn't love me the way I loved him. His love for me was like that of a father to a son, nothing more. My hope of being with him romantically was dashed to bits. I bowed to him once more and strode out of the room as quickly as possible, my face burning with embarrassment.
When I got back to my room, I threw the covers over my head and silently wept. I was a fool for what I had done. One will probably expel me. I should save him the trouble and just leave myself. My thoughts kept telling me to quit, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Though my heart was breaking, I couldn't deny that I was still in love with One. As long as I could be here with him, nothing else mattered.
Even if he never returned my feelings, I promised myself I wouldn't give up. I vowed that I would learn to live with the disappointments. I knew that someday, love wouldn't let me down.
After all, like One had said, tomorrow was just another day.

[[end of chapter one]]
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Loveless