Just A Leaf of Basil

Basil was a sweet minotaur, you really only saw him at the market every Saturday, where he sold whatever he grew or what he fished up, other than that he always lived away from the village, at the beach a few miles away, he always seemed so.. cautious, around humans at least.

One sunny day you were walking on the shore, passing by Basil’s house, you could see him gently caring for his garden, his sleeves rolled up, revealing all his scars, something you rarely saw while he was working at the market. He quickly spots you and waves, that warm smile of his could heat up even the coldest of winter nights.

“Oh hey!” he spoke up, his voice sweet and caring “Did you come to visit me?” he continued, with a half-joking tone, but something in his gaze told you that he lightly wished it was true.

You nod, sitting beside him on the ground, you watch as he gardens, his gentle hands carefully plucking out weeds, something about him was odd, you couldn’t put your finger on what though.

He looks at you gently “You seem.. interested in me, is that right?” he says, focusing on you and you only, as he sees you nod, he sighs, it sounds almost sad, but he still puts on a smile, though his gaze showed what he was truly feeling. “What would you like to know?” He harvests a few things, herbs, and vegetables, all looking like they were grown with love and care.

As you mention that you would like to know his past, his smile fades away, being replaced with a light frown “Let’s go inside shall we? I’m already done here..” he says as he gets up, waiting for you to get up, leading into his house, it used to be an old abandoned house that was falling apart, well that was up until he appeared a few years ago, the house was all refurbished now, it felt cozy, a safe haven of sorts.

Once inside the house, he leads towards the kitchen, the tip-tapping of his hooves on the wood of the corridors and then the kitchen tiles filling the silence. The kitchen was well decorated, with a few flower pots on the window sill, and a few succulents growing there.

“Are you sure you want to hear about my past? I can tell you now... It’s not for the faint of heart.” he finally broke the silence, opening a cabinet and pulling out two mugs, turning to face you, watching you nod, his gaze darkening, like a sunny day being covered by storm clouds, he pours tea into both mugs, sitting down gently.

[Flashback]

The young minotaur calf cried out as he was ripped away from his mother’s grasp, only being around 3 days old, and he wasn’t the only one, several young minotaurs were being thrown into cages, taken away from their parents, parents who didn’t fight back, who just watched as their children were taken away, with a certain numb gaze, like they were used to it.

To young Basil, the numb gaze in his mother’s eyes felt like she never loved him, like she didn’t care about him. As he was thrown into the cold metal cage, he held the small stuffed animal his mother had given him, made out of some random fabrics his mother had found.

Breeding minotaurs had their horns broken off and filed down, so they couldn’t fight back, meaning a lot of male minotaurs could force themselves on female minotaurs with ease, making the birth rate extremely high, which meant a lot of the babies were not fed properly or taken care of, Basil being one of those babies.

Basil sat in his cage, silently crying and rocking himself, his stuffed animal in his arms, watching as other minotaurs his age were thrown into cages, getting their attachment items taken away, and getting tags put on their ears, so his first instinct was to hide his stuffed animal under the blanket in his cage.

When one of the “caretakers” got to Basil’s cage to put a tag on his ear, but the moment the cage was opened, Basil latched onto the caretaker’s arm and did the best he could to attack, kicking and biting mostly, but even after all that struggle he got the tag put on him and he, rather aggressively, was thrown back into his cage.

His tag had “B4511” written on it, being where he got his name from later on in life, the numbers were randomized, but the letter identified him to the specific family tree B, or as a lot of the caretakers referred to as “The Brute Family”, this family tree contained some of the most aggressive and strong minotaurs, of course, a lot of them were raised this way, especially the older ones, but with time aggression almost came naturally to those from the brute family. But in the very few rare cases, someone in the brute family wasn’t naturally aggressive, or refused to fight other minotaurs, they were pumped with all kinds of steroids, forcing them into drug-induced rages.

Basil, unfortunately, was one of the few in the brute family who didn’t fit the bill, even though he showed signs of aggression at a young age, it was clear later on that his aggression was only towards humans, he refused to harm other minotaurs. Well, that was until he was 16, the first time he was thrown in to fight another minotaur to the death.

Cheers from all sides, all from humans as Basil was pushed into the fighting cage before he could even respond, his “trainer” stabbed a syringe into his neck, at first it seemed like it did nothing, but the moment the match started, he only saw red, almost like he blacked out, tearing the other minotaur apart, literally, that night he broke the other minotaur’s neck, ripping off his ears, and trying to rip his limps off, only being able to do serious damage before being pulled away.

The reactions from the audience varied, from cheering to terrified silence as they heard Basil’s opponent scream in pain, screams that would leave even the most seasoned watcher terrified. Even the announcer had gone quiet, because what Basil had done hadn’t happened in years, earning Basil the title of “The Brute”.

“The Brute”, a title that hadn’t been held in years, had been given to the 16-year-old Basil, a title that was originally given to minotaur B0569, a minotaur infamously known for killing his opponents without hesitation and in gruesome ways, who had to be given heavy sedatives after battles so he wouldn’t kill any caretakers.

But that wasn’t the only thing Basil was called, monster, heartless and beast were all common nicknames, not only from humans but from other minotaurs around Basil as well, a painful reminder of what he did and who he had become.

And so the years passed, rinse and repeat, train for a bit, get injected with steroids, get thrown into the ring, and kill. It wasn’t like he wanted to, this hurt him, he was of a kind and sweet nature, yet forced into the role of “The Brute”, a role reserved only for the most violent and dangerous minotaur.

But that all changed when he turned 21, it was a tradition in minotaur fighting that every birthday a minotaur has after they turn 16, they earn a piercing, to show how long they’ve survived fighting, Basil had 4 ear piercings, and that night he was getting his 5th, a septum piercing, but he had a plan, a plan he had in the back of his head since he turned 18, a plan to escape.

He had seen what happened to the last few that had tried to escape, shot, tortured, and even euthanized; he remembered their screams as they were shot, as their horns were ripped out, as their limbs were slowly sawed off, but he also remembered the deafening silence as some drew their last breaths, he didn’t want to risk getting caught.

His plan was simple enough, he wasn’t the only one getting his piercing today, and piercings were usually 1-on-1 processes with a caretaker, and only 2 caretakers knew how to do the piercings, that day there were 5 minotaurs getting their piercings. Protocol is to always start with the eldest minotaurs, since they’re the most used to it, and do the younger ones last since there might be some fighting back, Basil was the third one getting his piercing that day, so he was left in a sweet spot of sorts, the caretakers would do the first 2’s piercings, do his, and then get distracted trying to hold down the 2 youngest, both only 16, that was when he would be able to escape.

He had the guard changes perfectly memorized, as well as their paths and who works on what times and days, he knew that 10:30 am was the best time, since that was the time the weakest guards were usually on duty since it was before lunch and right after breakfast, so most minotaurs were locked up, but piercing day was special for that reason, the minotaur’s who were getting their piercings would be let out of their cages.

So it was easy, he knew one of the younger minotaurs would try and fight back, and he would have the perfect opportunity to just run, and that he did, the 4th minotaur started trying to ram and try to attack the caretaker, meaning the second one had to go and help hold him down.

So he ran, as fast as he could, he knew the pin code the guards used for everything, 8895, they probably were too dumb to think a minotaur would have noticed they used the same pin code for literally everything. Halfway to freedom he encountered two guards, the two he knew he’d encounter, the two he knew he’d have to kill.

Those two guards were Shawn and Jeffery, brothers and absolute douchebags, Basil had seen them flirt with female guards, to the point where even Basil was uncomfortable watching. Both of them acted like they were better and stronger than everyone else, but Basil knew they weren’t, he had never hesitated to kill or injure a human who had been responsible for hurting other minotaurs, and he wasn’t going to start now.

Humans were much easier to kill than minotaurs, thinner skin, more fragile bones, small necks perfect for choking; it was a quick and easy job, but Basil made sure that they felt every single moment of it, just like they had done to other minotaurs. He stared at their bloodied disfigured bodies when he was done, not feeling any guilt, but a feeling of power, like he had finally done something he wanted to do since he was 13.

Everything went “smoothly” from there, he ran, as fast as he could while having a bullet in his leg, until he reached deep into the woods, leaning against a rock trying to catch his breath, from there he just broke down, curling up and finally letting out all the tears he had stored up since he was 16.

He thought everything was okay, until that feeling he had only heard being used to torture other minotaurs, withdraw. It started as some simple lightheadedness and joint pain, but soon turned into nausea and severe fatigue, making it impossible for him to leave the forest and search for shelter.

He was stuck there for a few days, until a sweet older woman found him curled up on the forest floor, struggling to breathe. She sat down beside him and pet his head a bit, which caused him to flinch back.

“Shh.. it’s alright young one.. I’m not going to hurt you..” she said in the gentlest tone Basil had ever heard, it reminded him of his mother’s voice, he teared up and tried to sit up, leaning onto the smaller human’s touch, feeling warmth after being on the cold forest floor for days.

That woman ended up taking Basil in, she was the one who gave him that name, she was the one who took care of him when he had nobody else to turn to, when he felt like the whole world had turned his back against him.

[End of Flashback]

He looked down at his mug, tears wetting his fur as you moved to hug him, you were smaller than him and could barely wrap your arms around him fully, but it was clear he appreciated the gesture, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a tight hug.

“Thank you..” he mumbled between sniffles and sobs, resting his head on top of yours and closing his eyes, then speaking up again “You must be hungry…” he said in a soft and gentle tone, cleary showing he care about you, as you nod he gently gets up, taking both empty mugs and putting them in the sink.

You watch as he cooks, your eyes fixating on his horns, which had faded paintings of flowers of all kinds, hydrangeas, gardenias, daffodils, peruvian lilies, etc. You decide to ask why he had flowers painted on his horns.

He turns to you with a slight warm smile “Oh these? I started painting them after reading a few books on minotaur culture before humans decided to use us for their entertainment.. The flowers were a symbol of peace, to show humans we weren’t a threat, but they were also of massive cultural significance, each flower has a meaning, a minotaur would be assigned flowers throughout their lives, showing what their most apparent traits were, I never had someone pick these for me, I picked them for myself, a lot of these are connected to hope and strength, but the daffodils have to be my favorite, they symbolize rebirth in almost all of the books I have read, and I think that’s a beautiful meaning for such a beautiful flower.”

You nod after hearing his explanation, he seemed happier now, humming a calm tune as he cooked. “Thank you for listening to me while I told you my whole life story, must of been tiring-” he said with a warm chuckle.

When he was done cooking he turned around serving a bowl of pasta with tomato sauce, and a single basil leaf from his garden on top.

The End