Dragon Soul

Street Kids

     I stumbled out of an alley after a restless, nightmare-filled sleep. My hair that was once a light reddish-orange, was now a midnight black everywhere but the tips, was tangled and snarled from days on the street. I hid the mangled nest of hair under my hood and went towards the Ahara District in search of something--anything, to put the hunger pangs to rest. If this what the rest of my life is going to be like, then my life sucks. 

     After scamming some breakfast burritos. from the Taco Cat, I was fine. That place was always in need of someone to take rejects of their hands since it tended to be filled with mostly new employees. I was wandering my way towards Kulan District (my proffered place of business) occasionally sneaking my hand into a passerby's pocket, grabbing some cash and spare change, and slipping their wallet back into the same place. After years of training, a little help from some locals, I had mastered the "School of Seven Bells." It was all instinct, hand in, hand out, none the wiser. The whole seven bells thing really does't help when it comes to pick-pocketing: people are used to bumping into others in a crowded street, what's really important is speed. If you want to keep your moral compass relatively close to North, you need to be fast so they get their wallet back. I steal for a living, I'm used to that, but those who are used to a nice happy life-like the one I once had, losing your wallet can be a bad thing.

     And then, I must've turned the corner too soon because I plowed straight into a solid mass.

    "You know, you could get hurt if you don't watch where you're going," said a  voice. I looked up to see that I had really bumped into a boy. He looked about a year older than me and was almost a whole head taller than me. 

     "Sorry," I replied. He looked to be about one of those rich kids whose parents run one of the companies in Kulan District. "I'll look next time." I turned to walk away, but he grabbed my shoulder.

     "But I never got your name," he asked. "I'm Eiran by the way." Most people in the city didn't really care who they bumped into and who bumped into them. This guy was hard to read: he was arrogant but actually cared about the people around him. Who was this guy?

     "Well, Eiran," I replied in a somewhat annoyed tone. "I'm going to be late."

     I turned to walk away when he said, "Well I'm Going To Be Late, I hope we can meet again." I sighed and shook my head, at least during all that I managed to get a couple dollars out of his pocket.