Benimaru groaned beneath his breath. "Please, don't make me do this..." he said, looking around at the circle of kids surrounding him. "I really don't want to beat up a bunch of kids." He was pleading with them, more for his own sake than theirs. This whole situation was already bad enough without having to explain why he got into a fight with street kids.
The boy grinned even wider as he pulled out a pocket knife from his worn jacket, flicking it open. The blade was small but sharp enough to do some real damage. "You don't have to," he said, his smirk confident. "You can just leave and not bother me again."
Benimaru shook his head, dropping into a fighting stance. "No. You're coming with me whether you like it or not."
The boy's smirk faltered for just a second, replaced by frustration and anger. "You can't take us all on," he said, his voice rising.
Then his frustration boiled over completely.
"BEAT HIS ASS!" he ordered.
The kids didn't hesitate. They rushed forward all at once, pipes and bats raised, yelling as they closed in from all sides.
The first one swung a rusted pipe at Benimaru's head. He ducked under it easily, the metal whistling over him, and drove his fist into the kid's stomach. The boy doubled over with a wheeze and dropped.
A second kid came from the left with a wooden bat. Benimaru sidestepped the swing, grabbed the kid's wrist mid-motion, and twisted. The bat clattered to the ground. He shoved the kid backward into the brick wall, not hard enough to do serious damage, just enough to knock the wind out of him. The boy slumped down, gasping.
Two more rushed him simultaneously from opposite sides. Benimaru jumped back, creating distance, then lunged forward at the one on the right. He caught the pipe swing with his forearm, the impact stung, but he could handle it. He yanked the pipe out of the kid's grip and tossed it aside before landing a quick jab to the jaw. The kid's head snapped to the side, and he dropped to the floor.
The fourth one swung a chain at Benimaru's legs, trying to trip him. Benimaru jumped over it, landed, and immediately swept the kid's feet out from under him. The boy hit the ground hard, and Benimaru followed up with a light stomp to the chest, just enough pressure to keep him down and knock the air from his lungs.
The fifth kid hesitated, seeing his friends already on the ground, groaning. He looked between Benimaru and the original boy with the knife, clearly unsure if he should keep going.
"Stay down," Benimaru said flatly.
The kid dropped his pipe and backed away, with his hands raised.
That left only the original boy, who was still gripping his pocket knife. His confident smirk had vanished, replaced by wide-eyed panic. He looked around at his friends sprawled on the ground, the whole fight had lasted maybe fifteen seconds.
"You...you said you didn't want to fight!" the boy stammered, his voice cracking.
"I didn't," Benimaru said, rolling his shoulder. "But I didn't say I wouldn't."
The boy's grip tightened on the knife, his hand shaking. For a moment, Benimaru thought he might run, but desperation won out. The kid yelled and lunged forward, slashing wildly with the blade.
Benimaru sidestepped the first slash, grabbed the boy's wrist on the second attempt, and twisted hard. The knife fell from his fingers. Before the boy could react, Benimaru swept his legs and drove him face-first into the ground, pinning him with a knee in his back and his arm wrenched behind him at a painful angle.
The boy struggled for a second before realizing it was useless. He went still, excepting his defeat.
Benimaru leaned down slightly. "Can you stop now?"
"RUN GUYS! RUN! DON'T LET HIM CATCH YOU!" The boy screamed out to his friends who were still on the ground, scared and hurt.
The kids, didn't need to be told twice. They scrambled to their feet, limping and stumbling as they ran past Benimaru to escape down the alley.
Benimaru didn't care about them, so he'll let them go.
"I don't care about them... just you. You're coming with me," he said, hauling the boy up to his feet and holding his arms from behind. He didn't have cuffs or rope to restrain him properly, so he'd have to make do with a firm grip.
The boy struggled against Benimaru's hold, twisting and pulling, but quickly realized it was useless yet again. "I'M SORRY! Okay? I promise I'm not involved, okay! I can't get arrested now!" he pleaded desperately, his voice cracking.
Benimaru honestly felt bad for the kid. It wasn't his fault he was born into this type of condition where they had to steal and maybe even kill just to survive. The slums bred this kind of desperation where kids are forced to grow up too fast, and doing things they shouldn't have to do just to eat another day.
Ultimately, Benimaru decided not to turn him in. He was just a kid, albeit a very troubled one.
"Alright, kid... tell me what you know and I'll let you go," Benimaru said, making the offer.
The boy stayed quiet for a moment. Then, finally, he nodded frantically. "Alright! Alright! Just let me go!"
Benimaru heeded his plea and turned the kid around, pushing him gently but firmly against the brick wall so he wouldn't try to run. He released his grip and took a step back, though he stayed close enough to grab him again if needed.
"Alright... go on," Benimaru said, crossing his arms.
The boy rubbed at his wrist, still sore from where Benimaru had twisted it, before he leaned back against the wall and placed his hands in his pockets. "Just say you won't say this came from me... if they find out, I don't know what they'll do to me." He was trembling slightly, a hint of fear in his voice.
Benimaru nodded. "I promise."
The boy stared at him for a moment, clearly weighing whether he could trust a Marine's word. Finally, he seemed to decide he didn't have much choice. "If you say so..." he said quietly, before continuing. "Hideki owed money to someone. Not a crazy amount, but enough to get him killed. I saw him getting roughed up by some thugs about a week ago near the docks. They work for a guy who runs one of the gambling dens in the Veins."
Benimaru raised a brow. "The Veins?"
The boy looked around nervously, checking the alley entrance, before pulling in closer and dropping his voice to a whisper. "The underground...Tunnels and old basements beneath the city. That's where all the real business happens..gambling, smuggling, fighting rings, auctions for slaves, you name it. Marines don't go down there and if they do, they're killed. And those who know are probably paid off anyway." He swallowed hard. "Hideki got involved with one of the gambling dens down there. Thought he could make easy money. But when he couldn't pay what he owed, the debt collector sent someone to make an example of him."
Benimaru hummed as he processed the information. "Who's the debt collector?"
The boy shook his head quickly. "Don't know his real name. Nobody does. People just call him 'The Accountant.' He runs numbers for a bigger operation...he keeps track of who owes what, and sends people to collect." The boy's voice dropped even lower. "Word is, if The Accountant marks you down, you either pay up or you end up like Hideki."
Benimaru frowned. This was bigger than just a simple murder case. If there was an entire underground network operating beneath the city, and the Marines weren't doing anything about it, or worse, were actively ignoring it, then this assignment just got a lot more complicated...a lot more.
Benimaru wasn't sure if he wanted to get involved in something this big, this early and he was sure if he got involved it really wouldn't end up good for him. "How do you know all of this?" he asked.
The boy sniffled, rubbing the base of his nose with the back of his finger. "They don't call me Riku the Whisper for no reason," he said in a cocky tone, some of his earlier confidence returning. "There's no information in Port Raiden that I don't know about."
Benimaru studied him for a moment. The kid couldn't be more than thirteen, maybe fourteen at most, but he carried himself like someone who'd survived on the streets for years. Whatever role he played in the slums, it was clearly one that kept him alive and in the know.
"So you sell information?" Benimaru asked.
Riku shrugged. "Sometimes. Depends on who's asking and what they're willing to pay. But mostly I just... listen. People talk a lot when they don't think kids are paying attention. I hear things."
That made sense. A street kid would be practically invisible to the kind of people doing business in the Veins.
Benimaru then wondered as a thought came to his head. "Do you know any information outside of this city? I'm looking for a pirate crew," he said.
Riku thought about it for a minute, his expression calculating, before ultimately deciding to hear him out. "What's in it for me?" he asked.
Benimaru's gaze narrowed at the boy. "I don't arrest you."
Riku waved him off dismissively. "Hey! Relax... nothing comes for free in the Veins. Me doing this for you will probably cost me an arm and a leg... literally. You might as well arrest me then."
Benimaru sighed and dragged a hand across his face in frustration. "Fine... what do you want?"
Riku smiled, that cocky confidence returning. "Don't you Marines have medicine? I need a bottle of antibiotics."
Benimaru raised a brow as he looked him up and down. The kid didn't look injured or sick. "Why do you need antibiotics?"
Riku's smile instantly turned into a frown. "Is all you do ask questions? FINE! I need it for my sister. She's very sick..." he admitted, looking down at his feet. A flicker of sadness flashed across his face before he looked back up at Benimaru, his expression hardening again. "So are you going to get it for me or not?"
Benimaru studied him for a moment. "Alright," Benimaru said finally. "I'll get you the antibiotics. But you need to give me something good in return. Real information, not just rumors."
Riku gave a cheeky smile. "Then we have a deal... who am I looking for?" he asked.
A sweat dripped down Benimaru's cheek. "I don't know..." he said.
Riku's brows instantly furrowed. "Is that a joke? How am I supposed to find a crew you don't even know? Do you have any other information at least?"
Benimaru nodded. "Ask around if anybody knows of a crew that attacked a village on an island named Heiwa Island in the last three months. The captain has some sort of bone powers."
Riku hummed for a moment, before raising a brow. "Bone powers? Are you saying he's a devil fruit user?" he said.
'He knows about devil fruits too? I didn't think people in the North Blue knew about that, especially a kid,' Benimaru thought, genuinely surprised. But then he nodded to the boy's question.
Riku shrugged. "Alright, I'll see what I can find out."
"Good," Benimaru said. Then he held out his hand. "Now give me your pocket knife."
Riku's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why?"
Benimaru shot back without missing a beat. "Is all you do ask questions?"
The boy sighed in annoyance and pulled out the small blade, handing it over reluctantly. "You better give it back..."
Benimaru took the knife and, without hesitation, pressed the blade against his own shoulder and made a shallow cut across his skin. He winced slightly but kept his expression steady as blood began to seep through.
"Why'd you do that for!" Riku asked, genuinely surprised.
"This way, when you go back, your friends won't find you suspicious," Benimaru explained, pulling off his scarf and wrapping it around the wound to stop the bleeding. "They'll think we actually fought and you managed to get a hit in before escaping."
Riku blinked, processing that for a moment. Then a small, grudging smile appeared on his face. "That's... actually pretty smart."
Benimaru tied off the scarf and looked at the kid seriously. "I'll meet you at this spot exactly a week from now, in the afternoon. Don't be late."
The boy nodded, accepting the pocket knife back when Benimaru handed it to him. "Two days. Got it." He paused, glancing at Benimaru one more time. "And don't forget about the antibiotics, Marine. My sister needs them."
"I won't," Benimaru said.
Riku gave a quick nod and then took off running, disappearing around the corner and into the maze of alleyways that made up the slums.
Benimaru stood there for a moment, watching the empty alley. He touched the makeshift bandage on his shoulder, feeling the sting of the cut he'd inflicted on himself. It wasn't deep, but it would be convincing enough if anyone asked questions.
He turned and started making his way back toward the warehouse.
Hopefully his team wouldn't get suspicious too.
. . . .
TO BE CONTINUED
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