Quirks and magic

Chapter 13: Ikiji Kokotsu "Stop that thieving brat

The small boy, emaciated and scrawny, pushed his way through a sea of turned heads and condescending glares as he made his grand escape with his prize in hand: a small bag of rice. This particular outdoor bazaar was a favorite haunt of his—easy to slip into and easy to slip out of, regardless if he was caught in the act of stealing or not.

But that didn't make the stares and whispers anymore tolerable. Oh, no one ever dared to stop him, but he absolutely abhorred being looked down upon by others just because they were so much better off than he was. So beneath them he was, not worthy of intervention or the slightest bit of compassion or, worse than that, pity. He would take pity over this any day of the week.

But no, they never gave him pity. Just their contempt, without malice. The one thing the masses gave freely and it was the one thing he didn't even want, let alone ask for. No, they never gave him anything. All he knew in life was loss, so it only made perfect sense to the boy that the things he needed and wanted—those things had to be taken.

There can be no winners without losers. One cannot be rewarded with gain without another having loss inflicted upon them. And he, a boy with naught but a name and the rags on his back, was tired of losing throughout his life.

As he darted through throngs of shoppers, the boy made sure to scarf down the rice as quickly as possible. He always made sure to eat as soon as he stole, lest he lose his prize as well, especially if he were to be caught and beaten. He could at least fight back against angry vendors, but hunger? Starvation was not an enemy he could punch into submission.

Slipping through mounds of garbage in an alleyway, the boy stopped for a brief respite once he was sure the vendor he'd pilfered from this time had either lost him or was no longer giving chase. He never rested for too long—the sky still shone with sunlight, and so long as the sun hung in the sky, there was time for him to steal—to gain.

Tossing the empty rice bag into the nearest garbage heap, the boy peered out across the nearest string of shops, his eyes vigilantly looking out for his next target. He soon found it: perusing through a roughshod vegetable stand was a man wearing an odd assortment of brown and golden vestments—obviously a man possessing wealth, wealth that would soon be his for the taking.

Closing the distance with his target, even through crowds of shoppers, was easy enough. Slipping his fingers into the man's pocket and swiftly pulling out the first object he had come to grasp was even easier—pickpocketing was a science he had long mastered.

Snickering at the ease of his crime, the boy slunk back to the alleyway he had first emerged from to inspect his prize.

What the heck is this? He thought as he scrutinized the object—a double-looped ring of some kind. Its luster was extremely poor and the inscriptions engraved on it were nearly unreadable. Bah! This catch was worthless! He wouldn't be able to barter this piece of junk for any food!

No matter, The boy thought as he pocketed the ring. I'll just double back around and see what else I can take from him—oh, no.

The boy was scanning the crowd for the man he had just stolen from only to find the face of said man staring intently right at him. He had been found out, and his pickpocket victim began rushing through the crowd straight toward him.

"Shit!" The boy swore as he bolted back down the alley, looking back in horror as his pursuer effortlessly leaped over the swarm of shoppers, landing steady on his feet and barreling straight towards him.

Turning back to focus on running away, the boy's feet suddenly connected with some debris in his path and he collapsed to a painful halt. As he picked himself up, a harsh hand gripped him by the shoulder.