Suteko Ni Narimashita 31

This chapter is told from a third-person point of view. 

In the early morning light, guards encircled the Stone Shop. The leader, a stern figure, barked orders. 

"I know the black-haired kid is in there. Bring him out." 

With urgency, the guards, clad in gleaming silver armor fastened with simple leather, stormed in. 

Each guard was armed differently—some with spears, others with shields, and one with a large bag—but their expressions were uniformly unfriendly.

Inside, Gustav, the shopkeeper, faced them, his hands rubbing together nervously. 

"Good Sirs, what brings you here so… So early?" he stammered, attempting a smile. "I assure you, I've not dealt in contraband for quite some time…"

The guard's voice was calm but carried an intimidating edge as he interrupted. 

"Did you not hear me? Bring that boy out," he demanded, thudding his spear on the ground and scanning the shop with piercing eyes.

Then, his gaze locked onto something behind Gustav, towards the warehouse where products were stored. Silently, he gestured to his subordinates, signaling them to advance.

"Enough," the guard leader declared with finality. "I'll turn this place inside out. But if you have nothing to hide, you won't mind us searching, right?"

Gustav, flustered, quickly responded, "No, please don't! The boy… he's out back. He hid there, terrified by the sight of so many guards."

The leader snorted dismissively and turned to his men. 

"Head to the back," he ordered. "The boy may be young, but he's dangerous. If he resists, drag him out by force."

Upon hearing this, several guards hastened out of the shop.

Gustav, still anxious, ventured a question. "Um, Sir? What about the store search?"

The guard paused, then replied, "That won't be necessary now. We appreciate your cooperation." 

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed a silver coin towards Gustav. "For your troubles."

Catching the coin, Gustav murmured a grateful "Thank you," relief washed over him as the tension dissipated.

***

Behind the store, the guards encircled a young child who barely qualified as a boy.

"Are we going to take this kid away?" one guard asked, his voice tinged with doubt.

"It looks like it. Burr can be odd with his orders," another muttered, echoing the confusion in the air.

Their leader, Burr, had given a clear command: ‘Apprehend the child and take him to the detention center.’ 

However, the guards were taken aback by the child's small stature. They had braced themselves for a young adult, not a child. The tales of his terrorizing citizens and resisting arrest had painted a picture of someone with the robust build of an adult.

"I just need to follow you, right? Understood," the child said simply, his voice calm.

But the reality in front of them was starkly different. Here was a child, not even a decade old, clearly lacking in common sense—a far cry from the formidable figure they had imagined.

The guards shared a unanimous thought: a small child couldn't possibly fight back against a group of adults.

"Why the hesitation? Just lead the way," the boy said, undeterred.

In their line of duty, orders from superiors were not to be questioned. Reluctantly, Burr's subordinates complied, escorting the child away. 

"Sorry, kid, it's just how things are done," one of them muttered as they bound the boy's wrists behind his back and tied a rope around his waist.

The situation felt almost surreal. Typically, when criminals were apprehended, they either hurled insults or wore expressions of defeat. But this boy was different. He strolled along cheerfully, seemingly enjoying the experience like a pet out for a walk.

"How far is it? Are we walking the whole way?" the child asked, his voice bright and curious.

His cheery demeanor only added to the guards' bewilderment. Bound by protocol, they could only offer minimal responses when spoken to.

"Your armor looks tough! You must be strong wearing all that. It's impressive. What kind of training do you do? Do you fight a lot of people? Oh, and what's your name, by the way?" the boy continued, his questions flowing like a stream of innocent curiosity.

Their journey took them from the slums, through the Twelfth District, skirting the edges of the Fifth, and finally into the Sixth District to the south. The total distance was about three kilometers, yet the boy's questions never ceased.

"Any famous criminals around here? Have you ever caught one? How do I get to the First District?" he asked, his curiosity seemingly endless.

The child's relentless questioning visibly wore out the guards.

"We're here already? Good job, guys!" the boy exclaimed cheerfully as they arrived, his voice free of concern.

The detention center stood before them, a formidable stone structure encased by a wall tall enough to dwarf three adults. The wall was designed to be impenetrable and nearly impossible to climb.

As they passed through the gate in the wall, the receptionist inside looked up in surprise.

"Why are you arresting a kid this small?" he asked, his eyes wide.

"It's Burr's order," one of the guards replied tersely.

"Okay, then…" the receptionist conceded, not pressing further. He pulled out a key from his desk and handed it over. 

"He'll be in the second room in the basement. Poor kid."

"Yeah, what was Burr thinking…" another guard muttered, about to continue when he suddenly fell silent. The receptionist's gaze shifted to the entrance, where Burr himself was just entering.

"Check his belongings, confiscate any weapons, then lock him up. I'll be there later," Burr instructed before heading straight to the back room. Originally a conference room, it had been repurposed as Burr's private office.

"Understood, sir!" The guard saluted sharply, his face set in a stern expression.

The child, unfazed, simply smiled at the sight.

The search of his belongings was quick and uneventful. Apart from his blue clothes of mysterious origin and a pair of leather boots, he carried nothing else.

As the guard wrapped up the inspection, the child's gaze wandered curiously around the unfamiliar room. The guard considered checking the room for anything unusual, but with the inspection complete, he couldn't leave the child unattended.

"Now, follow me downstairs. You'll be staying in the room over there. Got it?" the guard instructed, giving a gentle tug on the rope tied around the child's waist.

The child nodded and complied, their footsteps echoing on the cobblestone floor as they descended.

The basement of the detention center was a stark contrast to the rest of the building. This damp, echoey space, lined with rooms end to end, was reserved for the most hardened criminals, complete with tools for 'straightening them out.’

The end of the dimly lit hallway seemed to stretch on endlessly. In this sealed space, even the loudest screams would be futile.

"A change in plan?" the child murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper.

To the guard, it sounded like an insignificant musing, easily dismissed. He continued walking, leading the child to their destination.

"We're here," he announced, stopping in front of the second room from the back as Burr had instructed.

The room's walls were stained and uninviting, making the guard frown slightly. He could almost read the child's thoughts.

"I'm sorry, kid. This place isn't meant for someone like you, but you'll be out soon. Hang in there. I'll try to bring you something if I get a chance," he said, his voice hinting at empathy.

The child looked up at him with an expressionless face, then broke into a bright smile. 

"You're different from the others," he said softly.

The guard, puzzled by the child's words, simply closed the door with a loud clang.

Alone in the room, the child sat down. The silence was absolute, with no other presence or movement. Yet, in his eyes, there was a clear radiance devoid of confusion. He sat there, deep in thought, methodically planning his next steps.

***

The child felt a presence and turned toward the door just as a commotion erupted outside. Moments later, the door burst open, and a greasy, middle-aged man slithered in. Burr followed close behind.

"Well, it seems like you're having a good time," the man sneered.

"Thanks to you," the child responded nonchalantly, eyeing Burr.

"I've arrested him as you asked. But he's just a kid, isn't he?" Burr questioned, his tone laced with doubt.

"So what? This little punk embarrassed me," the man, identified as Haman, retorted while rubbing his hands. He was still nursing the sting of humiliation from the child, who had also been blamed for injuring several craftsmen. In his self-righteous fury, Haman conveniently ignored that he had been the instigator among his peers.

"Now then, you little troublemaker, time to start apologizing!" Haman demanded, sitting in front of the child and glaring at him.

"I did nothing wrong," the child maintained, smiling defiantly.

That smile only fueled Haman's anger, leading him to punch the child in the head. The child collapsed to the floor, and Haman, enraged and satisfied, laughed. 

"Ha! That's what you get for messing with adults!”

Despite his hands being tied behind his back, the child nimbly got to his feet, meeting Haman's gaze with unflinching eyes.

He then scoffed, "So, how does it feel to hit a child, knowing he can't fight back?"

“Huh?”

Haman, incensed, threw another punch, this time aiming for the child's nose. Though the impact felt unusually solid, Haman relished striking the boy he despised.

Yet, the child simply laughed in response, not showing any signs of pain. 

"Ahaha… 'Messing with adults,’ you say?"

Confused and irritated, Haman landed another punch on the child's head, but this time, a sharp pain shot through his hand. The child remained unfazed.

"What makes someone an adult?" the child asked, slowly rising to his full height. 

"Is it just being bigger or stronger than a child?"

Remarkably, the child's hands were now free.

"An adult should be a role model for children," the child continued, locking eyes with Haman. 

"Someone who fails at that doesn't deserve the title of an adult."

Feeling the weight of the child's words, Haman stood up, caught in the moment. Burr, watching silently, tensed, preparing for what might come next.

"Since when were you…!?" Haman stammered, frozen in shock as the child's once playful demeanor shifted to something more serious.

"Good night," the child said calmly. In a swift movement, he struck Haman's abdomen with his palm, sending the man crumpling to the floor. Haman's eyes rolled back, foam forming at his mouth.

"You—!" Burr, who had been a silent observer until then, sprang into action.

He grabbed a spear from the wall and lunged at the child, aiming for his shoulder. But the child dodged easily, pushing the spear to the ground and snapping it in half.

Burr, taken aback by the child's strength, didn't hesitate to reach for another spear. But as he poised to strike, something unexpected happened. The spearhead suddenly severed, clattering to the floor.

"Now your weapon is useless," the child said calmly, advancing towards Burr.

Burr, sensing the danger, leaped back and scrambled down the hallway, calling for backup. 

"The suspect has gone berserk! Emergency! Emergency! Gather your weapons!" he shouted as he fled.

Unbeknownst to them, this chaotic turn of events was all part of the child and Gustav's meticulously laid plan.

"We found him! Get ready to take him down!" the shout rang out, and armed soldiers quickly assembled. As the child casually strolled outside, he found himself encircled at the top of the stairs by over thirty spear-wielding soldiers.

The child looked around, a smile on his face. 

"I have no grudge against most of you, but it seems I'll have to make my way out," he said.

The soldiers exchanged confused glances. Here was a mere child, surrounded by armed adults, and yet he didn't seem the least bit frightened. Some of them began to question the situation. Why were they surrounding a child? Indeed, with their numbers and weapons, subduing a small child should be straightforward.

But as the wave of doubt spread, Burr's voice cut through, "Arrest him! I don't care how!"

Reluctantly, the soldiers moved in on the child. The next moment, however, was a blur.

"Ah—Hyii…!?" Burr stammered in shock.

Before him, more than thirty armed soldiers lay incapacitated. None were dead, but their armor was dented, and the floor and walls around them were cracked. Burr could hardly believe what he was seeing.

"Alright, time to go. So, about this guy…” The child said, tossing the person he was dragging in front of Burr. It was Haman who landed with a thud.

"Choose better friends next time," the child advised before confidently walking out.

Burr remained frozen in place, stunned by the swift turn of events.