Leon walked in at the right moment, clapped Bob on his uninjured shoulder, and spoke in a tone so sincere you couldn’t find fault with it.
“Bob, come on, he’s just a kid, still growing, possessive about food.
He eats that nutrient mush every day, and then he sees you enjoying a nice apple like that.
A few mood swings are bound to happen.”
Bob’s eyes went wide, and he pointed at his splinted finger.
“Possessive enough to snap my finger off?”
“It was an accident.”
Leon told the bald-faced lie without so much as a flicker.
“I wrote it up very clearly in my report.
Your foot slipped and you fell, John tried to help you up out of kindness, and being a child, he didn’t control his strength.”
Sarah rolled her eyes, not bothering to call out such a clumsy lie.
In this underground lab, everyone played dumb.
They were all wage workers on meager pay, and to keep their jobs, and keep their lives, there was no reason to go poking at the kind of trouble that shouldn’t be poked at.
“All right, quit your wailing, go take a couple days off.”
Sarah tied off the bandage and waved him away.
Once Bob had left, cursing under his breath, Sarah washed her hands and looked over at Leon.
“You’ve got nerve, getting that close to the little monster.
Take some advice from me, keep your distance.
The way he looks at people isn’t human.”
“Gotta earn a paycheck.” Leon smiled and raised his coffee cup in a little salute, then turned and left the medical room.
At eight in the evening, the lab’s lights dimmed automatically, simulating a nighttime sleep environment.
Leon used his access card to swipe open the heavy metal door of the sterile room.
John was sitting obediently on the padded mat, and the moment he heard the sound of the airlock, he looked up.
The instant those deep blue eyes landed on Leon, a clear flicker of anticipation lit up in them.
“How was your day, little hero?”
Leon walked over and plopped down on the floor as usual, without any guard up at all.
John squared his shoulders, his small face full of seriousness.
“I was thinking about what you said today, Leon.
Justice has no middle ground.
I’m calling it John’s Law.”
Leon nearly spat out the mouthful of coffee he’d just taken.
Good grief, this kid wasn’t just a man of action, he was a man of theory too, building himself a code of conduct at six years old.
“Ahem, that’s a good idea.”
Leon hurried to swallow the coffee and changed the subject.
“But to be a proper hero, besides punishing evil and praising good, you need to learn one other thing.”
John tilted his head, his eyes full of curiosity.
“What is it?”
Leon mysteriously reached into the pocket of his loose white coat and, like a magician, produced two things.
One was a bright red apple, washed perfectly clean, the other a somewhat worn color picture book for children.
John’s gaze was instantly riveted to the apple.
He might have a godlike physique, but in this lab he could only eat that precisely formulated yet near-inedible nutrient paste every day.
This kind of brightly colored natural food, giving off a fruity smell, he’d only seen it once, in that fat man’s hand this afternoon.
“That’s the thing the bad guy stole.” John pointed at the apple, his tone serious.
“No, this is the spoils a hero earns after dealing out justice to a bad guy.” Leon handed the apple to John.
“Try it.”
John hesitated, then reached out his soft little hand to take the apple, cradled it in his palms, and carefully took a bite.
A crisp crunch sounded in the quiet room, and sweet juice burst across his mouth in an instant.
The little boy’s eyes shot wide open.
He stared at the fruit in his hands in a kind of disbelief, then chewed faster and faster, cheeks bulging, like a little hamster guarding its food.
Watching him wolf it down, Leon felt a rare flicker of warmth.
No matter what he might become in the future, no matter that he’d one day face the wizards and onmyoji of the outside world brawling like gods, at least for now he was just a poor kid who’d never even eaten an apple, locked inside a glass box.
“Eat slower, no one’s going to take it from you.”
Leon reached out and gently ruffled his soft blond hair.
This time John didn’t pull away the way he did with the other researchers.
Instead he stopped chewing and pressed his head into Leon’s palm on his own, like a kitten getting its fur stroked the right way.
After finishing the apple, John licked his lips, still wanting more, and even tried to swallow the core, until Leon’s quick hand stopped him.
Then John’s gaze fell on the colorful book.
“What’s that?”
“This is the textbook for learning how to be a hero.”
Leon opened the picture book.
“Today’s story is Puppy Hero versus Mischief Cat.”
It was a children’s picture book of the kind you’d find anywhere in supermarkets outside, the art childish, the story simple.
But to John, who spent all year in the sterile room with nothing but cold instruments, it was like opening a door to a whole new world.
Leon leaned against the wall, and John scooted over on his own, pressing close against his arm, both eyes fixed unblinking on the pictures.
“See, Puppy Hero finds that Mischief Cat has knocked over the trash can on the street corner and spread garbage everywhere.
That’s wrong.”
Leon pointed at the page, slowing down his speech as he explained.
“Mischief Cat is a bad guy.
He broke the rules.” John made his precise judgment at once.
“Right, so Puppy Hero runs over, barks loudly, scares Mischief Cat away, then sets the trash can back up and keeps the street clean.”
John frowned, put his finger on the Puppy Hero in the picture, and looked a little displeased.
“Why does he only bark?
He should pounce on him and snap Mischief Cat’s neck, so Mischief Cat can never knock over the trash can again.”
Leon felt his temple throbbing.
He took a deep breath and guided him patiently.
“John, justice comes in degrees.
Breaking a cup and murder and arson, can the punishment be the same?
If Mischief Cat only knocked over a trash can and you snap his neck for it, then haven’t you become a bad guy crueler than he is?
A hero is a protector, not a butcher.
For small mistakes, we give a chance to correct them.”
John fell into deep thought.
His little head was running like mad, trying to fuse Leon’s words with his own understanding of absolute justice.
“I understand.”
After a good while, John looked up, his deep blue eyes full of resolve.
“When facing minor evil, I can break its legs and spare its life.
That counts as giving it a chance to correct itself too.”
Leon opened his mouth and couldn’t get a word out for a long time.
Fine.
Downgrading from snapping the neck to breaking the legs counted as some kind of progress.
Rome wasn’t built in a day, and straightening out this kid’s worldview was definitely going to be a long tug-of-war.
“Let’s keep reading the story.”
Leon sighed and turned the picture book to the next page.
As time passed, the vents in the sterile room blew out a faintly cool breeze.
Leon’s voice was low and even, like telling a bedtime story, echoing softly through the empty room.
He didn’t know how long it had been when he felt a weight settle against his arm.
He turned to look.
Little John had already fallen asleep leaning against him.
One hand still clutched the hem of Leon’s white coat, his breathing steady, his long lashes casting faint shadows on his pale face.
Asleep, he’d put away that daytime look of a judge so righteous it turned sinister, and at last had the calm a six-year-old ought to have.
Leon didn’t move, afraid of waking the little guy.
With one hand he tugged a spare thin blanket out of the cabinet beside them and gently laid it over John, then closed his own eyes and dozed against the wall.