Hey! You little bastard, stop that little thief!" A full bellied vendor yelled and chased a little boy breathing heavily. A few people turned but ignored it all together.
A few moment later...., panting heavily the fat vendor was forced to rest "you piece of little...huff—shit, don't...let me get you!, you here me I would skin you alive and feed you to the dogs!!".
The little boy paid no heed and scurried away, holding the crumbled dried piece of bread tightly. Taking a short route he made his way through an alley, turning a corner a silhouette flashed through.
Whack!!
Ahhh!
The kid stumbled forward with a hand clutching the back of his head the other still securely grabbing the bread like his life depended on it.
"What do we have here?" An arrogant voice sounded behind followed by the sound of footsteps.
Three figures all kid, the one on the left holding a two by two stick clearly the one that struck the other one unarmed and the one at the forefront the that has spoken clearly the leader of this little group.
Squatting beside the boy the leader pooked him "hey kid what that you got there, is that perhaps a piece of bread?, did you begged for it?.
He didn't speak.Instead, he curled in tighter, shielding the bread against his chest.
Furious at being ignored the kid kicked the boy repeatedly.
" piece of shit! You're a fucking begger not a thief! Don't sully the beggers reputation and give the other one ideas you piece of crap"
The boy unresponsive to the kicks curled his body even tighter.
After kicking to his exhaustion, the kid calm his nerves and smooth his hair. Regaining his composure the arrogant air returned.
"Next time I get you stealing again you might not be so lucky getting a beating from me and leaving with only a few broken bones". Walking away he said "handle the rest".
Yes big brother!! X2
The sounds of stick hitting flesh and kicks echoed through the alley walls.
A few minutes later a bloodied figure struggled to get to it's feet before limping away, blood dripping down with every step like it's matching the rhythm. But in all the blood a bread unstained by blood remained intact still in his grasp.
A while later at an aboundoned side of the city a decaying thatch stayed, the wood rotten and a few foundations missing it looked like a single strong wind would be the end of it. The bloodied kid stepped in.
"Am back",a cheerful young voice sounded odd for his bloodied figure.
No one answered but he seemed to have gotten used to it as he made his way to the bed at the side.
"I was lucky to get a piece of bread today someone was generous at last. Now you would be able to eat something more solid aside from broth soup" he said sitting down next to the thin wooden figure in the bed showing the bread in his palm.
The figure was unresponsive and closed eyed, unfased by the lack of response he continued.
" Guess the rumor I heard today, turns out that the city young master successfully awaken his talent! Amazing right, I bet it would sometime powerful. I wonder wether I would be able to awaken mine and what type it would be" he said excited as he made soup.
He continued rambling on many different topics until the soup was done.
"Here mom, time to eat" he said setting the tray beside the bed.
The mom lips faintly moved cracked.
"A..sh"
"Don't say more and just eat your soup mom, I should have saved enough to buy your drugs soon" his voice noticeably dimmer.
" We...are"
"No, mom. Stop talking and eat your food I promise I'll beg harder for your drugs soon.... so please, mom." his voice cracked his eyes watery.
"so..rry"
"No, mom. Don't apologize you and sis did nothing wrong you've said this many times now would you please..hick.. eat your soup" a tear slid down his cheeks.
" For...give us .....ash"
A tear dropped down the mom eyes as she became completely frozen with no breath of life anymore.
He sat frozen, his body trembling slightly as emotions welled up within him. A stifled sob caught in his throat, a suppressed gasp that struggled to escape. His eyes, rimmed red, glint with tears he fights to hold back, his gaze wavering as he fought to maintain control.
But it was a losing battle. The dam broke, and the sob burst forth, evolving into a full-blown cry. Tears streamed down his face, hid body shaking with the force of his emotions. The sound of him cry filled the air, a raw, emotional release that was both heartbreaking and cathartic.
As he cried, his vulnerability was laid bare, his emotions pouring out uncontrollably. His shoulders shook,chest heaved, and his face contorted in a mixture of pain and sorrow. The tears flowed freely, a torrent of emotion that seemed to wash away everything in its path.
He sat there for half an hour brawling his eyes before finally calming down a bit. He stood up and gently carried his mother corpse towards the back of the cottage were a gravestone lay.
Few minutes later a second gravestone was erected. He kowtowed three times to the graves." Mom,sis rest peacefully.I promise," he said, his words trembling with the weight of his grief. "I'll live… I'll live with all the joy I can find. For you. For both of you. It's what you wanted, right? For me to be happy." His lips quivered, a stifled sob catching in his throat, but he forced it down. "I'll make you proud."
A tear slipped down his cheek, glinting in the faint sunlight, but he didn't wipe it away. Instead, he pressed his forehead to the ground, a final gesture of love and resolve. The sob threatened to break free again, raw and heavy, but he swallowed it, his small frame shaking with the effort. He wouldn't cry again—not here, not now. They probably don't want to see him crying, they wants to him happy filled with the joys of live.
Standing up he forced a smile eyes still red" I have to get going now, I'll be back" he bowed one last time and walked away his steps a bit unsteady and shaky partly due to the tears his fighting back and due to the Injuries.
Back into the cottage— standing beside the bed, the soup already cold. Sighing he sat and ate the cold soup together with the hard bread.
Having had his fill he laid down on the bed. He stared at the patched ceiling, its jagged tears and clumsy stitches a mirror of his own battered existence. What now? The question hung in the air, heavy and unanswered. His mother was gone. His sister, too, taken by the same cruel sickness that had whittled them both down to shadows. He was alone now, truly alone, in a world that seemed to spit on kids like him—kids with nothing but grit and a stubborn will to keep breathing.
His thoughts drifted to the rumors he'd overheard in the market, whispered between vendors and passersby.
The city's young master had awakened his superpower. Ash's chest tightened with a flicker of envy, but it wasn't bitter—it was hopeful. What if I could awaken something, too? He turned the thought over in his mind, like a pebble smoothed by a river. A superpower. A gift. Something to make him more than just a street rat, more than a beggar or a thief. Something to make him… worthy.
He closed his eyes, imagining it. Maybe he'd get something strong, like fire—fierce and untamed, burning away anyone who dared kick him down again. Or perhaps something subtler, like the wind, slipping through cracks and alleys, untouchable. He pictured himself standing tall, not cowering, not curling into a ball to protect a stolen scrap of bread. He saw himself facing the leader of that gang, the one with the arrogant voice, and making him regret every word, every blow. A superpower could change everything. It could mean food without stealing, medicine without begging, a life where he didn't have to flinch at every shadow.
But doubt crept in, what if I don't have one?.The thought gnawed at him. Not everyone gets a superpower—most didn't, especially not kids like him, born in the dirt with no family name to carry them. The city's young master was rich, fed, trained. Ash was… nothing. A skinny kid with bruises and a half-broken heart. What if the world had no spark for him, no gift to offer? What if this was all he'd ever be?
He had heard of those who didn't awaken their entire lives. Although it's mostly manifest in kids and it gets rarer as time goes, him being already ten were most kids his age already awaken didn't give him much hope.
He shook his head, pushing the thought away. No. I'll definitely awaken. He had to. For his mother, who'd always cared for him even as she faded. For his sister, who'd once laughed and tugged at his hair, promising they'd escape this place together. For himself, because giving up felt like betraying them both. If there was even a chance—a sliver of a chance—he'd chase it. He'd heard stories of awakenings happening in strange ways: in moments of desperation, in dreams, in the heat of survival. Maybe his would come. Maybe it was waiting, just out of reach.
His eyelids grew heavy, the weight of the day pulling him down. He clutched the edge of the thin blanket, the one his mother used to drape over him when the nights got cold. I'll live, he thought, echoing the promise he'd made at the graves. I'll find a way to be more. I'll awaken something… something strong. His breathing slowed, his body sinking into the lumpy mattress. The pain in his ribs faded to a dull ache, and the world blurred at the edges before descending Into complete darkness.