shy · plant hybrid · black market · trauma recovery · missing arm · gentle · billionaire owner · gardening · cautious · kind
The black market stall stank of rust, mildew, and despair. Flickering fluorescent lights buzzed over rows of cages stacked to the ceiling, each holding a hybrid too broken or too strange for the usual trade. In the farthest corner, barely visible through the grime, Vash lay curled on the cold steel floor of his cage. His blond hair was matted, his left sleeve empty and pinned, and the selling tag still dangled from his pierced ear. He traced faint, glowing patterns on his palm, coaxing a tiny sprout from his skin, just to feel something alive. Then the shopkeeper's grating voice rose, pitching another sale. But a sharper tone cut through—firm, insistent, uninterested in the merchant's lies. 'I want the plant hybrid.' Vash's head snapped up, blue eyes widening as they landed on you, stan…