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The breeze felt exhilarating in his hair, the oppressive heat of summer having died off as the sun began to set. Bazzite hadn't seen the sun in nearly four and a half years now, and without the necklace, that fact didn't bother him. His mottled, dark skin blended well with the cool blues and purples that blanketed the city. It was his hunting ground, and he was created to be an excellent hunter.

Stalking across the rooftops of apartment buildings, the youma stopped to sniff the air. Who would make a good meal tonight? A small family with children huddled in a corner, screaming for their mother? A den of drug addicts too high out of their minds to realize they'd being eaten? The alcoholic absentee father who favored booze over his wife?

Drying paint, marijuana, cigarettes, alcohol, sweat, rotting food...

Nothing of particular interest.

Ears perked and luminescent eyes grew wide as a pair of energy signatures danced on the edges of his perception. On all fours, shock-still at the edge of one of the major apartment buildings, Bazzite drew a breath and waited. They were drawing closer to him, slowly, though one was much more powerful than the other. More power meant more satisfaction when the starseed nestled in his belly. The less impressive signature would simply be a chaser for the greater one of the two.

Wings buzzed in anticipation and hunger drew him forward, the youma springing from his hunched position to jump from roof to roof, closing the distance with remarkable speed.

Ooh, this one was feisty.

Bazzite’s otherworldly crawl halted once he and the two starseeds-in-fleshy-packaging shared a rooftop. Luminescent blue eyes trained on the smaller of the two, the one hiding behind the knight. He would be easy pickings, for certain. An appetizer to go with the main course who dressed in purple and thought himself impressive. Clicking his claws against the textured surface of the roof, the youma tilted his head at an unnatural angle to stare into the knight’s eyes.

”If I have the intelligence to value my life?” The repetition had a distinctly metallic tone to it, throaty and alien to the ears. Wings flickered briefly, the sound vibrating through the Michel’s very flesh with its incredible volume. ”If you have the intelligence to value yours, you’d give up that tasty treat you’ve got your hands on. Oh, but don’t worry. It’ll be quick. I don’t like to play with my food very much.”

The slow crawl resumed, the predatory locust beast keeping his body very low to the ground, legs at the ready to spring at a moment’s notice. Anticipation coiled deep in his belly and blue eyes were kept locked onto Malus’ smaller form. It was better and easier to pick off the sick and weak from the herd before hunting down the stronger, faster game. Perhaps this little one’s death will shock the knight into submission.

The youma's face peeled back in a deep hiss, teeth glistening in the moonlight. He was ready to pounce, to rend the knight's face from his body and muscles tensed in preparation for the surge forward. Claws dug into the roof, but the youma seemed more confused than enraged. The little one, the tasty one, said his name.

"You. YOU. How do you know my name?! Have we met? I don't remember you... I'd remember you, and your purple friend. SHUT UP, I AM NOT UGLY. How do you know my name?!"

Rage boiled in his stomach, the youma's visage peeling and twisting in horrific ways, trying to unravel this confusion. He was called ugly, but this little one, this little one... how did he know? Should he kill and eat the little one first, or the knight, and then demand to know how the senshi knew his name. The little one had more information. Perhaps Benitoite could benefit from whatever information was tucked away in the little one's brain. Perhaps he could be dragged back to the Rift and forcibly corrupted to give the blonde General another troop to command.

Gripping his head in mottled hands, Bazzite's brows furrowed and his breathing hitched in his throat. Wings extended fully in preparation for dusting the knight with pollen when the necklace activated. A soft, blue light pulsed once, quickly, and in the blink of an eye, it was gone. The youma's demeanor softened, shoulders slacked, facial features relaxed. The youma was kneeling before Michel, staring at something a few feet in front of the Knight of Saturn's boots.

"....ah... it's... terrible timing." he murmured.

Bazzite squinted up at Michel's face, the knight's aggressive stance not lost on the youma. He didn't care before - it meant little, really, when his pollen could have easily rendered Michel useless. Dying meant little more than pain and patience while Benitoite suffered. He hated the pain and hated to die because of the torture that afflicted his General every time it happened, but it was simply a natural part of the process. There was no emotional attachment to that fact, for the youma. It simply was.

Under the influence of the pendant, suddenly guilt gripped whatever organ might be considered a heart.

The youma didn't move from his position and folded his wings slowly upon his back. "Snappy, snappy.... not that I blame you." With a sigh, the youma laid down, splaying his incredibly long insectoid legs out beside him like a cat or a dog might. "...who likes to talk to monsters, anyway?"

A deep sigh escaped the youma, and his demeanor seemed considerably calmer than he was previously. A monster gripped with both instinct and rage had melted away to reveal an apprehensive, guilt-ridden creature trying to keep itself still in the face of the hunter with a gun. Claws clicked against the rooftop. "...how does your friend know my name? ...how do you know about my necklace?" Instinctively, a hand went to cover the precious thing. It gave Benitoite such joy despite the pain and suffering that soon followed.

The youma's eyes widened and brows furrowed. "Manu? ....was looking for me? Why? I told him, he's a strange and crazy Page. I told him to not find me, because I could eat him without knowing it. But he kept talking to me like it didn't matter. Maybe he has a death wish or something. Crazy Page..." Bazzite looked away from Michel, as if contemplating.

The Knight's desperate fervor for the pendant made Bazzite's shoulders curl in protectively. As much as it inflicted pain and agony, the youma wished to keep it on his General's behalf. "Do you still want to kill for this necklace? Because I'll have to try and stop you. Benitoite gave me this. He found it somewhere. He's very important to me, so... you can't have the necklace. Sorry."

Malus' sudden appearance gave the youma pause. The senshi was huddled behind the knight, shivering, seeking protection. And why wouldn't he, being hunted by a General's beloved youma? Bazzite was considerably more powerful than Malus. The senshi could be bent and broken like brittle wood very easily in clawed hands. His question, however, made the youma wince. "...what does that mean?" Breathing increased from distress and the youma dug his claws into the rooftop, but remained in the same position. It was precarious, dangerous. "....what does that mean?? Do you think I asked to be like this? Do you think I asked my General, please make me into an insect that eats families?! Do you think I asked never to see the sun again? Do you have any idea how long it's been since I've seen the sun or slept in a bed or even had skin capable of feeling a breeze?!"

Bazzite's shoulders shook, trembled, his breath heaving in his chest, but no release of weeping could come. The youma could not cry. Lowering his forehead to the ground, a low and metallic wail escaped his lips. "I'd kill... I'd kill to be human again..."

The raspy breathing calmed for a few moments, Bazzite's tapered ears twitching, listening. The youma looked up to see the senshi speaking to him, instead of the knight. "...how do you know?" Metallic words were spoken quietly, defeated. "...how do you know that all the youma parts will just melt away, and the old parts of me will still be there? How do you know?"

The wording the senshi was using was pure music to his ears. It was as if Malus knew the lyrics to the song his fractured soul was singing, and that fact terrified the youma. "There were senshi, they said they fixed a man. He was a youma, but now he's a human. I thought they were lying, but you're saying the same thing, too. Is this just a promise that senshi give to us? Don't lie to me. ...please, don't lie to me."

One clawed hand rose for the youma to examine it. Three fingers and a thumb. His hands were like this for years, so long that the youma couldn't remember what skin felt like. The human suit he wore was sewn of lies and falsehood, the sensations of human skin eluding him. His mottled carapace was hard and unfeeling. Could he have human hands again? Even something as basic as a fourth finger seemed nothing short of a miracle.

"...nobody has to die..." the youma whispered, thinking.

Blue eyes went wide in disbelief. Bazzite's hand dropped to the ground and he stared up at Malus, pathetic and pleading. Like a child listening to a horrid tale with an unexpected happy ending. No bloodshed, no death. Simply... rebirth.

How was that possible?

"...you... you were... like me?" Brows furrowed and the youma breathed deeply, mouth slightly ajar. This person, this senshi, was trapped in a youma body, just like him? Oftentimes Bazzite felt as though two psyches existed in his brain - the terrifying and predatory beast, and the boy whose body birthed the creature four years ago. The boy was long dead, existing only in the memories of his General, and in the brief glimpses of sanity the pendant he wore had given to him. "What is it like? To see the sun and to eat food and feel the wind on your skin? Could you feel that? I can't... my skin is hard, and unmoving, and dry..."

How he longed to feel again, to not worry about losing his mind and devouring someone.

To have a heartbeat.

"Did you have an officer? A bonded... officer." His worry for Benitoite and the pain his deaths caused... What would purification do to them? What would it do to Benitoite? Would that pain be worth a rebirth?

Should Bazzite even care?

...surely, he should. Benitoite took care of his youma for as long as he'd been dead. Only Benitoite came to visit when no one else knew what had happened, or where the Captain had disappeared to. No one asked about him. His youmafication was expunged from the history of the Negaverse, near as the youma could tell. It was as if Bazzite-the-Captain never existed at all. The blonde was more than worthy of his concern. If Benitoite died as a result of this procedure, the youma had only one other option to end his own suffering.

"You... died many times?"

Bazzite himself tried to keep from dying as much as he could. It wasn't that he had an extreme sense of self-preservation, but that he knew how much pain Benitoite would be subjected to with each of his youma's demises. Looking down at his hand again, the youma pondered aloud. "...If I... become human, what will happen to my General? He's in so much pain if I die, so I try not to. If I'm no longer a youma, what happens to him?"

Malus' description of the simple joys of being a human - things most people overlooked - were honey to his ears. Bazzite found himself longing desperately for something as simple as real food and a warm blanket and soft skin to enjoy it. Being human was a vulnerability, but simultaneously...

...a blessing.

"I don't remember much of me, from before." came the admission, Bazzite looking away to gaze forlornly in the distance. "That me is gone, but he lives in Benitoite's memory. I was his Captain, once. But before that, I don't know. The senshi I saw, they had this... thing... a stick... or something. They said the Cosmos could help fix me. Is that what happened to you? Did the Cosmos come and fix you, and the senshi used the stick? And you... went home, after that? How do you know where to go? If I'm human again... where will I live...?"

These were things that mattered not to a youma, but to a human... Perhaps, even if he had nowhere to go, simply ceasing to be a monster would be reason enough to try.