The pounding of jackhammers and the shouting of foremen slowly blended into the background until they were replaced by the city's everyday noise.
Car engines.
Tram bells.
People talking over one another.
The occasional blare of a horn followed by someone yelling through an open window.
Life.
I kept my pace steady, letting myself disappear among the workers leaving for the day. Most of them looked just as exhausted as I felt. Dust covered their clothes, lunch boxes swung lazily from their hands, and every few minutes someone would let out a tired sigh after another long shift.
Nobody looked at me twice.
Good.
I wasn't exactly dressed to stand out.
The streets were wider than I had expected.
Four lanes of traffic ran through the avenue, separated by steel tram tracks that stretched as far as I could see. Cars rolled by in an endless stream, most of them boxy and heavy-looking, while buses stopped every few blocks to pick up passengers.
I looked farther ahead.
The skyline caught my attention.
Tall buildings stood one after another, their windows reflecting the afternoon sun. Some were plain concrete office blocks while others were covered almost entirely in glass. Cranes surrounded several unfinished towers, slowly lifting steel beams into place.
"...Looks like Earth."
Not exactly.
The architecture felt older somehow.
Less polished.
The roads weren't as clean, and many of the buildings showed their age despite the constant construction happening around them.
Still...
It was a city.
A real one.
For the first time in months, I wasn't surrounded by trees.
I paused near a bus stop where a large map of the city stood behind a sheet of glass.
People came and went around me without paying much attention.
I pretended to wait for a bus while reading the map.
Everything was written in English.
District names.
Bus routes.
Major roads.
Hospitals.
Police stations.
That made things easier.
A lot easier.
I wasn't going to remember the whole thing, so I focused on the important parts instead.
The industrial district.
The residential areas.
The city center.
The river cutting through the eastern side.
After a minute, I gave up trying to memorize every street.
"I'll get lost if I try that."
Might as well remember the landmarks instead.
A police cruiser rolled past the bus stop.
Almost without thinking, I looked away.
A second later I realized how strange that probably looked and glanced back toward the road.
The officers inside were talking to each other.
Neither of them had even noticed me.
"...Still getting used to this."
Back on Mars, police cars didn't make me nervous.
Here...
Everything unfamiliar did.
I continued walking.
The construction helmet was beginning to bother me.
It trapped the heat against my head, and sweat kept trickling down the side of my face.
After another few blocks, I slipped into the entrance of an abandoned building.
The lobby had long since been forgotten.
Broken tiles covered the floor.
A rusted mailbox hung crookedly from one wall.
Someone had spray-painted colorful graffiti across the old reception desk.
I leaned against the wall and finally took the helmet off.
"Much better."
Cool air brushed against my face.
I ran a hand through my hair before looking around the empty lobby.
Nobody.
I crouched beside a cracked window and checked my reflection.
White hair.
Golden eyes.
Hard to miss.
The dust helped a little, but not enough to hide either of them.
For now, I'd just have to avoid drawing attention.
I placed the helmet beneath a collapsed section of concrete.
There was no point carrying it around anymore.
Construction workers usually went home after work.
Walking through the city wearing one would only make me easier to remember.
Back outside, the afternoon rush had picked up.
Office workers filled the sidewalks.
Students in uniforms laughed as they walked toward a tram stop, arguing about whose turn it was to buy drinks.
A businessman hurried past while trying to balance a briefcase and a sandwich at the same time.
Half of it slipped onto the pavement.
"...You've got to be kidding me."
He stared at it for a second before letting out a defeated sigh.
A few people chuckled as they walked by.
Even I couldn't help the small smile that escaped me.
Poor guy.
He looked like he'd been looking forward to that sandwich all day.
The smile disappeared just as quickly.
My own stomach reminded me it hadn't seen proper food in a while.
"...Right."
Food first.
Then somewhere to sleep.
I searched every pocket again.
Nothing.
Not a coin.
I hadn't really expected otherwise.
The worker probably kept his wallet somewhere safer than his jacket.
I let out a quiet breath.
One problem at a time.
A convenience store stood on the corner ahead.
Outside it was a bulletin board covered with advertisements.
Apartments.
Cars.
Second-hand furniture.
Lost pets.
I almost walked past before another section caught my eye.
DAILY EMPLOYMENT
I stepped closer.
Most of the jobs wanted skilled workers.
Electricians.
Machine operators.
Truck drivers.
Then one notice stood out.
Warehouse Laborers Needed
Daily Pay
No Experience Required
Meals Included
I read that last line twice.
Meals included.
That was enough for me.
The address wasn't far from the industrial district I'd just seen on the map.
If it was genuine, I'd at least have money by tomorrow evening.
Assuming they didn't ask too many questions.
I folded the location into my memory and stepped away from the board.
The sun had started sinking behind the skyline.
Orange light reflected across rows of windows, making the taller buildings almost glow.
For a moment, I simply stood there.
Months ago...
Watching a sunset had been normal.
Lately, I'd only noticed whether it was getting dark enough to hide.
Funny how quickly things changed.
A loud crash echoed from somewhere nearby.
My attention snapped toward the sound immediately.
An alley.
A few people glanced over before continuing on with their day as if nothing had happened.
Nobody seemed interested.
Which usually meant it happened often.
I hesitated.
"...Probably none of my business."
I took another step.
Then another crash echoed through the alley, followed by someone shouting.
I rubbed the back of my neck.
"So much for a quiet first day."
With a small sigh, I turned toward the alley—not charging in, just curious enough to see what was going on before deciding whether to keep walking.
.
.
.
The alley was narrower than it had looked from the street.
Concrete walls boxed it in on both sides, stained by years of rain and exhaust. Overflowing dumpsters stood near the entrance, and a rusted fire escape zigzagged up the side of one apartment building.
Another thud echoed from deeper inside.
Followed by laughter.
Not the friendly kind.
I stopped just before the corner.
"..."
Maybe it really wasn't my business.
I had no money.
No place to sleep.
My legs still ached every time I put too much weight on them.
Picking a fight with strangers ranked somewhere near the bottom of my list.
Still...
Whoever was down there didn't sound like they were having a good day.
I edged closer until I could see around the corner.
Three men.
No...
Four.
One of them was sprawled on the ground with his back against the wall, holding a hand over his face. Blood trickled through his fingers.
The other three stood over him.
One wore an expensive leather jacket despite the heat.
Another lazily spun a metal pipe in one hand.
"Last chance."
The man with the jacket crouched in front of the injured man.
"You gonna pay... or should we start breaking things?"
"I-I told you..."
The man coughed, wiping blood from his mouth.
"I need another week."
"A week?"
The leather-jacketed man laughed and looked back at his friends.
"Hear that? He wants another week."
The others chuckled.
One of them nudged the injured man in the ribs with the toe of his boot.
He cried out.
"Please..."
"I've got a daughter."
"I'll pay."
"I swear."
The laughter stopped.
The man in the jacket sighed.
"You've been saying that for three weeks."
He stood up.
"Break his arm."
The one holding the pipe smiled.
"With pleasure."
I frowned.
Debt collectors?
Didn't look like professionals.
Just three idiots who enjoyed their work a little too much.
I took one step back.
Not my problem.
That's what I told myself.
Then I caught sight of the man's trembling hands.
For some reason...
I thought of Jake.
The old man would've stepped in without thinking twice.
"..."
I rubbed my forehead.
"Damn it."
Always making things complicated.
I looked around.
The alley wasn't empty anymore.
People passed by its entrance every few seconds.
None of them looked inside.
Or maybe they did...
And decided they hadn't seen anything.
Either way, nobody wanted to get involved.
Couldn't really blame them.
I probably shouldn't either.
---
The man with the pipe raised it over his shoulder.
Before he could swing—
A police siren echoed somewhere down the street.
Everyone froze.
The sound wasn't close.
Probably several blocks away.
Still...
The three men exchanged glances.
"Forget it."
The one in the jacket clicked his tongue.
"We're wasting time."
He pointed a finger at the man on the ground.
"You've got two days."
"If you don't have the money..."
He smiled.
"...we'll collect something else."
The pipe rested on the man's shoulder again as the three turned and walked toward the street.
I quickly stepped away from the entrance before they could see me.
A few seconds later they brushed past me without a second glance.
One lit a cigarette.
Another complained about skipping dinner.
Within moments they disappeared into the evening crowd.
"...Lucky."
For both of us.
---
I waited another minute before entering the alley.
The injured man was still sitting where they'd left him.
He looked up as I approached.
For a moment, fear crossed his face.
Then confusion.
"I don't have anything left."
"I wasn't asking."
I crouched in front of him.
His left cheek had already started swelling.
Nothing looked broken.
"You alright?"
He laughed weakly.
"Do I look alright?"
"...Fair point."
He wiped the blood from his lip with the sleeve of his shirt.
"I'll live."
Slowly, he pushed himself upright using the wall for support.
I instinctively reached out to steady him.
"Thanks."
He looked embarrassed more than grateful.
"Sorry you had to see that."
"I've seen worse."
The words slipped out before I thought about them.
He gave me an odd look.
"...Military?"
I hesitated.
"...Something like that."
"Figured."
He adjusted his jacket with a groan.
"Most people would've kept walking."
"I almost did."
He laughed.
"Honest."
"I appreciate that."
Silence settled between us for a moment.
He noticed my clothes.
"You work construction?"
"Today."
"Huh?"
"...Long story."
The man blinked once before deciding not to ask.
Probably for the best.
---
"I'm Owen."
He held out a bruised hand.
After a brief pause, I shook it.
"Ace."
"Nice to meet you."
"I wish it was under better circumstances."
"So do I."
Another silence.
Then, almost as an afterthought, Owen asked,
"You eaten?"
"..."
I didn't answer quickly enough.
He sighed.
"Thought so."
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a slightly crushed sandwich wrapped in paper.
"My wife packed two."
"I only need one."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure."
My stomach made the decision before I could.
"...Thanks."
I accepted it.
The sandwich wasn't anything special.
Just bread, cheese, and slices of smoked meat.
It might as well have been a feast.
I took one bite.
Then another.
Only after the third did I realize Owen was trying not to smile.
"What?"
"You looked like you were about to inhale the whole thing."
"...I was thinking about it."
That earned a genuine laugh.
For the first time since entering the city...
The tension in my shoulders eased, if only a little.
Maybe...
Just maybe...
This place wasn't filled entirely with people trying to kill each other.
.
.
.
.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
The alley had gone quiet again. The three debt collectors were long gone, and the sounds of the city drifted back in from the street.
Owen folded the paper around what was left of his sandwich before stuffing it into a nearby trash bin.
"So," he said, dusting off his hands. "Where're you staying?"
I looked at him.
"...Haven't figured that out yet."
He blinked.
"You serious?"
I nodded.
"I only got into the city today."
He stared at me for a moment before scratching the side of his head.
"You've got family here?"
"No."
"Friends?"
"No."
"..."
He let out a slow whistle.
"That's rough."
I simply shrugged.
It wasn't as if thinking about it would change anything.
Owen leaned against the wall, studying me for a few seconds.
"You don't look like the type to beg."
"I'm not."
"And judging by the way you carry yourself..."
He narrowed his eyes.
"You've worked somewhere dangerous."
I smiled faintly.
"You ask a lot of questions."
He laughed.
"My wife says the same thing."
That caught me off guard.
"You have a wife?"
"And a daughter."
His expression softened immediately.
"Eight years old."
A small smile found its way onto his face.
"Talks more than I do."
"...Sounds exhausting."
"It is."
He laughed again.
"But I wouldn't trade it."
For just a second...
I imagined Atra talking endlessly while Orga complained from across the room.
The image appeared so naturally that I almost expected to hear someone shouting.
Instead...
Only passing cars.
The smile faded before I even noticed it had appeared.
"...They're probably doing fine."
I wasn't sure whether I was trying to convince myself or not.
Owen glanced at me.
"You say something?"
"No."
"Thought I heard you mumble."
"Just thinking."
"Happens to the best of us."
He stretched his sore shoulders before looking toward the street.
"You know..."
"I've got a friend."
"He owns a small apartment building."
"Well..."
"'Owns' is a generous word."
"He collects rent and fixes pipes."
"Same difference."
I couldn't help letting out a quiet chuckle.
"You laugh."
"I'll count that as progress."
"I wasn't that miserable."
"Weren't you?"
"...Maybe a little."
"There we go."
Owen pointed a finger at me.
"You're too young to walk around looking like you've already retired."
"I've had a long week."
"I believe that."
Another silence settled between us.
Unlike before...
It wasn't awkward.
Just... quiet.
Eventually Owen pushed himself away from the wall.
"Come on."
"Where?"
"I'll introduce you."
"To your friend?"
"Yeah."
"I can't promise he'll have a room."
"But if he does..."
"It'll be cheap."
"I don't have any money."
"I figured."
"That's why I said cheap."
"I didn't say free."
"I'll cover tonight."
I frowned.
"You don't even know me."
"No."
"I don't."
He scratched the back of his neck.
"My wife is going to tell me I'm an idiot."
"Probably."
"Definitely."
He laughed at himself.
"But someone helped me years ago when I first came here."
"I've been trying to return the favor ever since."
I stayed quiet.
People like that existed.
Jake had been one of them.
The thought made my chest feel strangely light.
"...Alright."
"I'll pay you back."
Owen grinned.
"I was hoping you'd say that."
"I hate when people try to make charity permanent."
"I don't like owing people."
"Good."
"Neither do I." Ichiro side glanced Owen.
They stepped out of the alley together.
The evening air had cooled noticeably.
Storefronts glowed beneath rows of electric lights as more signs flickered to life. Restaurants filled with customers finishing work, and buses rolled past every few minutes carrying people back to neighborhoods scattered across the city.
The farther they walked, the shorter the buildings became.
Glass office towers disappeared behind them.
Concrete apartment blocks replaced them.
Then older neighborhoods followed.
The streets narrowed.
Paint peeled from walls.
Laundry fluttered from balconies overhead.
Children still played outside despite the fading light while adults sat on folding chairs outside their homes, talking after another day's work.
It wasn't a wealthy place.
Far from it.
But it felt... lived in.
People knew one another here.
A woman watering flowers from her porch waved at Owen.
"Evening!"
"Evening, Mrs. Carter."
She noticed Ichiro beside him.
"New coworker?"
"For now."
She smiled warmly.
"Make sure he eats properly."
"I've already started."
Ichiro blinked.
The woman disappeared inside without another word.
"...Does everyone know you?"
Owen rubbed the back of his neck.
"Not everyone."
"I've lived here long enough."
"People remember faces."
"...That's both reassuring and terrifying."
"Depends what you've done."
"I suppose."
They continued another few blocks before stopping in front of a three-story brick building.
Age had left its mark on it.
The paint around the windows had faded, and one of the gutters hung slightly crooked.
Still...
Compared to sleeping in an abandoned building...
It looked like a palace.
Owen climbed the front steps and knocked twice.
A few moments later the door opened.
An elderly man with silver hair and thick glasses looked out.
"Owen?"
"Evening, Mr. Harris."
"I've got someone I'd like you to meet."
The old man's eyes shifted toward Ichiro.
For a long second, he said nothing.
Then he sighed.
"You've done it again, haven't you?"
Owen smiled sheepishly.
"...Maybe."
Mr. Harris pinched the bridge of his nose.
"My wife keeps telling me one day you're going to bring home a stray dog."
Owen pointed toward Ichiro.
"This one's less likely to chew your furniture."
"...I hope."
For the first time that day...
Ichiro laughed.
A genuine one.
It was small.
Brief.
But real.
Mr. Harris smiled despite himself.
"Well..."
"I suppose we'd better hear the boy's story."
And with that, Ichiro stepped through the doorway, unknowingly taking the first step toward building a new life in a city that had, until this morning, been nothing more than a name beyond a wall.
(A:N Ace is Ichiro's alias)
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POWERSTONESS!!
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