The street was alive with noise. Neon signs buzzed overhead, their colors dripping across the wet pavement like spilled paint. Stalls lined both sides of the road, sagging under everything from rusted machine parts to bruised vegetables. The air was thick—half smoke, half steam coughing up from the vents beneath their feet.
Crowds pressed shoulder to shoulder, a restless tide moving nowhere fast. Voices rose above the din—bargainers shouting, shopkeepers waving them off with sharp gestures.
One man slammed a stack of coins onto a counter, the sound sharp in the chaos. The shopkeeper shoved them back with a sneer. "Price's gone up." The man's protest vanished into the swell of the crowd.
A hooded figure passed by without a word, his head low beneath the flickering glow. He didn't spare the man or the coins a glance, just kept walking, the neon bleeding across his cloak as though the street itself tried to swallow him whole.
Around him, the rhythm repeated. A woman clutched at a sack of grain, but the vendor yanked it from her arms, their silent glares cutting deeper than their voices. Further down, curses flew, coins clattered, and desperation showed a dozen faces.
The neon washed it all in sickly hues—greens, pinks, and blues painting hunger and frustration into the crowd. This street didn't welcome anyone, yet it pulled them in all the same, filling its veins with those who had nowhere else to go.
And through it all, the hooded boy—Kagatsuchi Ren—kept moving, quiet, unnoticed.
Up ahead, someone stumbled. A man went down hard against the wet pavement, curses swallowed by the noise of the market. A few heads turned, distracted for a moment—and that was all it took.
Ren's hand darted quick and clean, fingers sliding into the fallen man's pocket. In an instant, the prize was his, and just as quickly, he was gone—swallowed back into the crowd.
The man on the ground pushed himself up, brushing grime from his jacket, muttering about the shove that had toppled him. He reached for his side… then froze. His face tightened as realization struck. Something was missing.
Farther down the street, Ren was already walking away. He glanced at what he'd taken, letting the crowd carry him along. A golden watch glinted faintly in his hand, catching the sickly neon light.
"A watch? Seriously?" he muttered under his breath. "Who even keeps something this old… how the fuck am I gonna sell it?"
He turned it over once more, lips curling at the shine. "Well… it's gold. Guess it might be worth something after all."
Without breaking stride, Ren slipped it into his pocket and melted deeper into the crowd, the noise of the street swallowing him whole.
The crowd thinned as Ren slipped away from the market's chaos, weaving through narrow alleys lit by sputtering neon strips. The noise of shouting vendors and arguing customers dulled behind him, replaced by the low hum of broken signs and the distant drip of water from cracked pipes overhead.
He stopped in front of a shop tucked between two crumbling buildings. Its flickering sign barely clung to life, buzzing with half-dead letters. Inside, shelves sagged beneath the weight of old trinkets and scavenged tech—half of it useless junk, the other half priced like treasure. The air smelled of rust, dust, and old metal.
Behind the counter sat a hunched shopkeeper, his face carved deep with age, spectacles balancing on his crooked nose. He eyed Ren with little more than a glance before speaking in a gravelly voice.
"Two hundred fifty coins. No less. No more."
Ren raised the watch, feigning disbelief. "What? Only two-fifty? Look at this—it's gold. Do you even know how much gold was worth back in the old days? At least two thousand coins easy."
The old man didn't blink. His cracked lips pulled into the faintest smirk. "Then you should go back in time and sell it."
Ren paused, thinking it over for a moment before letting out a heavy breath. "…Fine. You win."
He slid the watch across the counter. The shopkeeper picked it up with a practiced hand and handed Ren a small pouch, heavy with coins, in exchange.
Ren closed his fingers around the money, already turning toward the door, the faint jingle swallowed by the hum of the shop's flickering lights.
Ren slipped back onto the street, the pouch of coins heavy in his hand. The neon above bled red across the wet ground, a glow that clung to the faces of women leaning against doorframes. One of them called softly to a passing man, her voice coaxing, practiced. A few more stood nearby, their laughter sharp under the dull hum of the lights. Across the street, a larger building pulsed with shifting colors, its walls lit by rows of flickering signs that promised escape for a price.
Ren didn't slow. He let the glow wash past him, his hood drawn low, giving it no more thought than the garbage littering the gutters. The red light faded behind him as the road narrowed into a darker alley. Trash piled high along the sides, the stench of rot hanging heavy in the damp air.
He loosened the pouch in his hand, letting the coins clink softly as he counted them in silence. His eyes dulled. This might be enough for three days… after that… He shoved the thought aside and kept walking.
The alley spat him out into a small, open space where houses huddled together, built from scraps of rusted metal, cracked wood, and whatever else people could drag from the refuse. Shadows clung to every corner. Ren stopped at one of the makeshift doors and pushed it open.
Inside was a single cramped room. The air was heavy with stillness, as if the walls themselves were waiting for something. To the left, seated at a worn table with a book in his hands, was another boy—pale, with shock-white hair that made the dark circles under his eyes stand out even more. Shin Kyocera barely glanced up, thin frame bent over the pages as though the weight of the book was the only thing holding him upright.
Ren dropped onto the bed with a tired motion, leaning back with both hands braced behind him. "What are you reading?" he asked.
Shin's gaze didn't lift from the book. "Dying Hearts in the Ocean."
Ren tilted his head, watching as he slid the pouch of coins under the bed, hiding it from sight. "Sounds like a lovey-dovey story."
"Kind of," Shin murmured, flipping a page with thin fingers. "It's an old novel. The man's wife goes missing… he's trying to find her."
Ren shoved the pouch a little deeper beneath the bed, making sure it vanished into the shadows. "A missing wife, huh? Figures you'd be into that sort of thing." His tone carried a hint of mockery, but the kind that came easy between friends.
Shin didn't even glance up. "You'd probably be into it too… if you could actually read a single word."
Ren leaned forward, closing the space between them, a smirk playing at his lips. "That's true—I can't. But either way, I'm not wasting my time on some sappy romance nonsense."
Shin closed the book gently and set it on the table, finally turning to face him. His expression was tired, his voice quieter still. "You know… Sis Airi will find out soon enough that you're still stealing from people."
Ren's smirk faded in an instant, his expression hardening. "You should probably stay out of this."
Shin lifted his head, meeting Ren's eyes at last. His tired gaze was steady, his voice soft but laced with conviction. "You know Sis works day and night for us. She's all we have left. She gave up her youth just to keep us alive. If you get caught—if something happens to you—what do you think it'll do to her?"
Ren leaned back, the words digging at him more than he wanted to admit. His voice dropped, rough and low. "Tch… feeding us…"
Shin's jaw tightened, a spark of anger flickering across his weary face. He pushed against the table, trying to rise, but his frail body betrayed him. In a sharp stumble, he nearly collapsed.
Ren shot forward, catching him before he hit the floor. He eased Shin onto the bed, steadying him with a hand on his shoulder.
"Damn it…" Shin whispered, his voice trembling with frustration more than weakness. He looked up at Ren, his pale features lined with exhaustion. "Ren… please. Leave this behind. Don't keep doing these things."
For a long moment, Ren stared down at him, torn between defiance and guilt. At last, he exhaled slowly, the tension draining from his shoulders. "…I'll try to."
The words lingered in the cramped room, fragile—more like a hope than a promise.
Hours crawled past midnight, but Ren lay wide awake. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling—patches of metal and splintered wood stitched together from scrap, shadows dancing as the weak light outside flickered through the cracks.
Beside him, Shin had already drifted off, his breathing shallow, face turned toward the wall. Ren didn't even try to close his eyes. Thoughts gnawed at him, heavy and restless.
Leaving stealing behind… he doesn't really understand it. Even though Sis works herself half to death, it's still not enough. After all those long nights, she can't even manage three meals a day for us. It's not like I enjoy stealing—but in a world choked with filth and with the blade of those hybrid monsters always hanging over us, how else can you survive? And if I don't do this I'm sure that we would probably die from hunger before those hybrids rip us off.
And then he released a big breath of relief calming himself down, a soft creak stirred him. His gaze slid to the door as it opened, hinges protesting in the silence. A woman stepped inside—her clothes worn thin, revealing more than they covered, her movements dragging with exhaustion. She kicked off her sandals and shut the door gently behind her.
Ren's eyes slipped shut, his breathing steadying to feign sleep. Through his lashes, he caught a glimpse of her tired face as she looked at the two boys. For a fleeting moment, a small smile softened her features. Without a word, she lay down on the thin mat at the far side of the room. The moment her body touched the floor, sleep claimed her.
Ren opened his eyes again, letting them rest on the woman's worn figure. I don't know if I'm wrong or right but I'm sure of one thing that I can't leave all the burden on her shoulders...
The thought lingered, pressing on his chest like a stone. The night stretched endlessly, until silence finally claimed the room.