Morning light pressed through the cracked orphanage windows, painting thin gold lines across the wooden floor. The building creaked as it always did old, worn, and stubbornly standing, just like the people inside it.
Vyre woke first, as usual. Years of street instincts never let him rest deeply. He sat up quietly, glanced at the bunk below him, and found Kaze sprawled like he had fought a dozen invisible enemies overnight. One leg off the bed, mouth open, hair a mess.
"Kaze," Vyre said, nudging the mattress with his foot.
Kaze snorted awake instantly. "I WASN'T STEALING ANYTHING "
"Get up," Vyre said flatly.
Kaze blinked around, confused. "Oh. Right. Morning."
They dressed in silence loose shirts, patched trousers, boots with soles that had survived far too much. The orphanage didn't provide luxury, only durability. The matron believed children needed things that survived, not things that looked nice.
When they stepped outside the room, laughter and chatter echoed from the hall. The other kids were already up mopping, sweeping, dragging buckets, arguing about whose turn it was to clean the latrine. Life moved whether they wanted it to or not.
Kaze stretched. "Another day of hard labor. I can feel my spine getting older."
"You're six," Vyre replied.
"Trauma ages people."
Vyre ignored him and walked toward the main room. Kaze followed with dramatic groaning.
They reached the dining area where a few children helped the matron hand out breakfast thin porridge, hard bread, and a single boiled egg that rotated among them like a treasure map reward. Today was a no-egg day.
The matron spotted them instantly.
"You two are on water duty," she said, not looking up from her kettle.
Kaze gasped. "Again? That well hates me!"
"That's mutual," she said.
Vyre nudged him forward. "Just go."
They headed out back with two heavy buckets. The morning was cool, air thick with wet dirt and distant cooking smoke. As they walked, Kaze kept sneaking glances at Vyre.
"What?" Vyre asked finally.
Kaze shrugged. "Nothing. Just thinking."
"That's dangerous."
Kaze kicked a stone. "I was thinking about the street."
Vyre slowed. He knew this tone not joking, not loud. Real.
"What about it?"
"You ever miss it?" Kaze asked quietly. "The freedom? We could go anywhere. Hide anywhere. We could just… disappear whenever we wanted."
"You were being trafficked by grown men," Vyre said.
"Details," Kaze muttered.
"She throws spoons at you because you flirt with her," Vyre added.
Kaze stood taller. "I believe she fears falling for me."
"She called you a mosquito."
"A charming mosquito."
"No."
Kaze smirked anyway.
At the well, the mood softened.
"Seriously," he said, while Vyre lowered the bucket. "Do you ever think about… before?"
Vyre paused.
There was no before for him. Only the orphanage, the matron's voice, and vague memories of being carried by someone he couldn't remember.
"I think about now," Vyre said.
Kaze nodded. "I remember stealing rotten apples, sleeping under stalls, hiding from drunks… Sure, I hated it. But at least I knew the rules."
"Things have rules here too," Vyre said. "Work. Noise. Annoying children."
Kaze smiled. "And me?"
"You top the list."
Kaze placed a hand on his chest. "An honor."
They filled the buckets, carried them back, and settled on the porch steps to rest their arms. Kids ran everywhere laughing, fighting, starting small fires, getting yelled at for starting small fires. Life kept moving.
Kaze looked at him suddenly.
"That day we met… why'd you save me?"
Vyre stared straight ahead.
"Because someone should have."
Kaze opened his mouth but didn't get the chance to respond.
A scream tore through the hallway.
Both boys snapped to their feet instantly.
Children rushed from the common room as the matron appeared, carrying little Joren normally loud, energetic, always running now limp, sweaty, burning with fever.
His skin was flushed and blotchy. His breaths came out small and shallow, like each one abandoned halfway.
Kaze's voice cracked. "What's wrong with him?"
"He collapsed," one of the older kids whispered.
The matron didn't stop. "I'm taking him to the doctor. No one follow."
She hurried out the door.
Kaze and Vyre exchanged a look.
They followed anyway.
They trailed her through the twisting slum roads, staying far enough to avoid notice. The slum felt heavier than usual streets crowded, smells harsher, sounds sharper.
They watched her step into a faded clinic wedged between two sagging buildings.
The cracked sign read:
DR. MALVOR PAYMENT FIRST. SURVIVAL NOT GUARANTEED.
They slipped around the side and crouched near the open window.
Inside, the doctor checked Joren pulse, eyes, chest. With every step, his face darkened.
"It's fever rot," Malvor muttered. "A dangerous strain."
The matron stiffened. "But children recover"
"Not without the stabilizing draught," Malvor cut in. "And I don't have it."
He opened a drawer empty bottles, scraps of labels.
"My supplier doubled the price. I can't afford the shipment anymore."
The matron's voice faltered. "How much?"
Malvor named a number that could feed the orphanage for two months.
The matron swayed. "I… I can request a revenue allocation from the district office."
"They'll take five to ten months to process it," Malvor said bluntly. "Longer if someone loses the paperwork."
Joren whimpered.
Malvor's voice fell softer only for a moment.
"He won't last a week."
The matron covered her mouth, fighting tears. "Then what do I do?"
There was no answer.
Vyre and Kaze slipped away before she came out.
Back in an alley, Kaze's fists shook.
"He's going to die. We can't just sit and wait for paperwork!"
Vyre didn't move.
"The matron can't afford it," Kaze went on. "She's been surviving on scraps since forever keeping all of us alive with nothing."
Silence.
Kaze inhaled sharply. "We have to get the money."
Vyre finally spoke. "How?"
Kaze hesitated… then looked around, lowering his voice.
"We steal it."
"From where?"
Kaze swallowed hard. "From one of the slum barons."
Vyre's expression didn't change.
"The slum has dozens," Kaze pressed. "They hoard coin. They extort families. They run the gambling pits and the loan dens. They take from people who already have nothing so we take from them."
Vyre stared at him long enough for Kaze to panic internally.
Then
"Which slum baron?" Vyre asked.
Kaze gaped. "Wait really? No argument? No lecture?"
"If we fail," Vyre said, "we die."
"Yeah. Yes. Absolutely."
"If we succeed," Vyre continued, "Joren lives."
Kaze's eyes softened. "Then… we're doing it."
"Not yet," Vyre said. "We need a plan. We need to know which baron won't retaliate against the matron."
Kaze scratched his head. "Okay, that leaves… none of them."
Vyre sighed. "Then we start gathering information."
Kaze nodded hard. "Also tell no one."
"Obviously."
They walked back toward the orphanage, the weight of their decision settling over them like a stormcloud.
Kids were laughing again when they returned.
Running. Playing.
Unaware that two of their own had just decided to pick a fight with the monsters ruling the slums.
A fight they had no guarantee of surviving.
But for Joren
They would risk it.
They would steal from the slum's underworld.
They would do the impossible.
And nothing would be the same afterward