Chương 11: Baptism

"Call me Boss." The words fell into the silence like a slap. For an instant, even the hyenas under Oss froze. Then the meaning settled in, and several of them burst out laughing. Machi's eyelid twitched. She turned her face aside, as if she had not heard him at all, but the corner of her mouth moved before she could stop it. Oss did not laugh. He stared at Aren, trying to drag the name out of his memory. Meteor City had many monsters. Some belonged to the elders. Some belonged to no one.

A young man who could stay calm after being surrounded by dozens of armed men should not be unknown. But no matter how he searched, Oss found nothing. That made him even greedier. The house behind Aren was too clean. Too solid. It had food, weapons, and supplies that did not belong in a trash heap. Whatever trick this white-haired pretty boy had used to build it, Oss wanted it. And if the boy had a hidden weapon, then taking his head first was the safest answer.

"What are you staring at?" Oss barked.

"Kill him! Whoever cuts down this little Boss gets the vice-leader position." The promise lit the hyenas on fire. A dirty knife rose. A broken pipe scraped against concrete. Someone licked his lips and glanced toward Machi.

"And after Boss Oss catches that girl, maybe he'll let us have a turn." Laughter spread through the crowd. Machi's eyes went cold. Aren's smile thinned.

"That mouth of yours," he said, "is going to cost you." The first hyena charged. A blade flashed toward Aren's throat. Aren raised one hand. A throwing knife appeared between his fingers and shot out before the attacker could take his second step. It punched through the man's eye socket and buried itself deep enough that the handle struck bone. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. The body dropped. A second knife appeared. Then a third.

Aren did not rush forward. He stood where he was, white clothes stained with dust and old blood, and turned himself into a living turret. Knife after knife snapped into existence and flew. The old owner of this body had survived in Meteor City by learning every ugly trick a weak person could use. He had not been strong. He had not been brave. But he had known how to throw a blade into a throat, an eye, a wrist, or the soft spot beneath the ribs. Aren had inherited that muscle memory.

With object creation feeding him an endless supply of knives, the result was brutal. Three men fell in the first breath. Five more screamed and staggered back in the second. At the same time, Machi moved. Steel threads slipped from her fingers, almost invisible under the weak light. She did not fight like Uvogin. She did not charge like Nobunaga. She cut angles, stepped through gaps, and let her enemies tear themselves apart on lines they never saw. A wrist opened. A knee gave way.

A throat split before its owner understood what had touched him. The two of them were outnumbered, but the hyenas had made one mistake. They had thought numbers mattered. Oss watched from behind the crowd, and the greedy light in his eyes changed.

'Those knives...' They were not hidden on Aren's body. They were appearing from nowhere. An ability user. No, not just an ability user. A boy who could create weapons out of thin air, defend a base filled with supplies, and stand beside that sharp little girl without fear. Oss's breathing grew heavier. He had awakened Nen by surviving a bodyguard's attack. That baptism had taken his left arm and almost taken his life, but it had also lifted him above the trash. Above these hyenas.

Above the ordinary dead who rotted in Meteor City's piles. With Nen, he had survived men who should have crushed him. With this boy's ability, he could do more than survive. He could climb.

"Move," Oss growled. The hyenas around him hesitated.

"I said move!" They scattered. Oss rushed forward. He did not aim for Aren. He aimed for Machi. Machi noticed him at once. Her threads snapped toward his path, but Oss's body blurred. Aura wrapped around his legs and drove him forward with a speed she had never faced before.

'Too fast.' The thought was cold and clear. She could not dodge. The dagger in Oss's remaining hand came low, angled for her abdomen. It was not a clean killing stroke. It was the kind of wound meant to fold a person in half and leave them alive enough to be used. In that fragment of time, memory flashed through Machi's mind. A blanket drawn over her shoulders.

"Good night." New clothes. A proper bed. Hot food. A sweet cake placed in front of her like something from another world. And Aren, who had said he wanted them to keep walking together.

'If I could...' Her fingers tightened around the steel thread.

'I wanted to keep walking with him.' The dagger stabbed forward. Flesh tore. But it was not Machi's. Aren had crossed the distance before she could blink. He stood between them, Oss's dagger buried deep in his abdomen, blood spreading through the white fabric. Machi's eyes widened. Aren looked back at her over his shoulder. His face was pale, but his voice was steady.

"Machi," he said, "we'll keep walking together." For a heartbeat, she could not breathe. Then blood spilled down his side.

"Aren!"