A month had passed since Beru and Nobu first met in that dark alley.
What began as a single night of shelter had slowly turned into weeks of shared hunger, stolen meals, and quiet promises to survive just one more day.
They had no family.
No home.
No future.
Only each other.
Every day followed the same cruel routine—steal food, run from danger, sleep wherever the night allowed.
Survival was no longer a choice.
It was the rule.
That evening, as they prepared for another robbery, the low growl of an engine sliced through the silence of the alley.
Both boys froze.
A sleek black supercar rolled to a smooth stop at the alley's entrance.
It didn't belong there.
The door opened.
A man stepped out.
His suit was perfectly tailored. Not a wrinkle in sight. Even the way he stood felt… controlled. Measured.
Dangerous.
His sharp eyes swept over the boys like a merchant inspecting damaged goods.
Then he smiled.
Polite.
Cold.
"I can give you food," the man said calmly.
"And a house. A place to live."
Beru and Nobu stiffened.
The offer sounded unreal.
Too clean.
Too easy.
The man's smile didn't change.
"All you have to do," he continued softly, "is work for me."
The alley fell silent.
Beru glanced sideways at Nobu.
Nobu didn't move.
Hunger clawed at his stomach.
Cold nights.
Empty days.
They had nothing.
Nothing to lose.
Slowly…
They nodded.
The car carried them far beyond the familiar streets of the city.
When it finally stopped, towering iron gates loomed before them.
Beyond them stood a massive mansion, glowing under rows of cold white lights.
Marble floors.
Endless corridors.
Too clean.
Too quiet.
Too wrong.
Nobu's chest tightened.
Something about this place made his skin crawl.
The man led them into a dimly lit room.
Without a word, he placed a photograph on the table.
Nobu leaned forward—
—and froze.
His breath stopped.
The photo trembled in his hands.
"…Mom?"
It was his stepmother.
The only family he had left.
The man's voice came, smooth and merciless.
"If you want her to live… you'll work for me."
Nobu's heart dropped into his stomach.
"Fail," the man continued, his polite smile never fading,
"and she dies."
Silence crushed the room.
Nobu's fingers curled tightly around the photograph.
His voice shook.
"…I'll do it."
He lifted his head, eyes trembling but firm.
"Whatever you want."
Beside him, Beru slowly clenched his fists.
If it meant saving Nobu's family—
He would follow him anywhere.
The man's smile deepened.
Satisfied.
Predatory.
He was a foreign mafia boss—wealthy, powerful, and endlessly ambitious.
Money wasn't his goal.
Cities weren't enough.
He wanted domination.
And to build his empire…
He chose children who had nothing left to lose.
Children like them.
The First Test
The training hall was wide.
Cold.
Unforgiving.
Beru and Nobu stood side by side, wooden swords trembling slightly in their grips.
Across from them—
Kashi.
Twelve years old.
Raised in violence.
Perfect stance.
Empty eyes.
No mercy.
"This is a one versus two match," the instructor announced.
"Begin."
Kashi moved first.
Like lightning.
Before Beru could react—
CRACK.
The wooden blade smashed into his leg.
Pain exploded upward.
Beru screamed as his body collapsed to the floor, his leg refusing to move.
"Disqualified."
Silence followed.
Kashi's gaze shifted slowly.
Now only Nobu remained.
A small smirk tugged at his lips.
"Your turn," Kashi said.
"Try not to disappoint."
Nobu's eyes hardened.
His feet moved.
Fast.
Faster than a street kid should be.
Years of running.
Dodging.
Surviving.
His blade struck—
Tap.
Too light.
Kashi didn't even flinch.
The counter came instantly.
Nobu barely twisted aside, the wooden sword slicing past his cheek by inches.
Gasps echoed faintly from the watching instructors.
Nobu moved again.
And again.
Each step sharp.
Desperate.
Wild—but fast.
Even the mafia boss leaned forward slightly.
Interested.
But speed had a price.
Nobu's breathing grew heavier.
His arms trembled.
His vision blurred at the edges.
Kashi saw it.
The opening.
THWACK.
The strike landed clean.
Nobu stumbled.
Another hit followed.
His grip weakened.
Still—
He forced his body forward one last time.
With everything he had—
Nobu swung.
—and collapsed.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
Kashi lowered his wooden sword.
Victorious.
But the room remained quiet.
The mafia boss tapped his finger once against the armrest.
"Impressive," he murmured.
"…but not enough."
His gaze shifted.
"Kashi. You will train the loud one."
Beru.
Then his eyes moved to Nobu's unconscious body.
"As for him…"
A tall, silent man stepped forward from the shadows.
The boss's right-hand.
A man whose fists spoke louder than bullets.
"He belongs to you."
The Price of Power
Cold stone pressed against Nobu's cheek as consciousness slowly faded in and out.
Nearby, Beru lay motionless, teeth clenched against the pain in his leg.
Reality settled in.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
They were no longer street kids.
They were weapons in the making.
The mafia didn't want cities.
They wanted the world.
And children like Nobu and Beru…
Were only the beginning.
Somewhere deep inside Nobu…
Something quietly began to crack.
And once it finally broke—
The world would learn exactly what they had created.