Gakdagui
The kids they called Gakdagui were orphans of the apocalypse.
It would have been easy to leave it at that — poor little end-of-the-world orphans — except their viciousness had long since crossed every line that still mattered. Prostitution. Theft. Assault. Exploitation. You could almost shrug those off; everyone did what they had to. But these children went further. They murdered as casually as they stole.
Then again — who was left to hold a moral yardstick against whom? That world had ended a long time ago.
"…They're children, but you mustn't pity them, Master."
Mao Mei looked up at me, a flicker of worry in her eyes.
"Who's pitying whom…"
That kind of soft-heartedness had burned out of me years ago. Besides, people had been vanishing from the shelter lately — men only. I needed to find out what was going on.
Outside, the wind was warm. How many had frozen to death last winter? No way of knowing. Either way, spring meant more work.
This territory belonged to a warlord outfit calling itself the Hounds. Survivors scraped by day to day only if they worked the farms the Hounds ran — and even that privilege was reserved for shelter residents. Below even those day-laborers sat the Gakdagui.
The warlords wouldn't take them. Not enough labor value, nothing useful about them. Children weren't raised to be useful; they were just raised. No faction spared these orphans a second glance.
Since I'd taken over security here, the streets had gotten a lot safer. That had a side effect of its own: the Gakdagui had multiplied.
One of them was crouched nearby now, filthy hands working something into his mouth with fierce concentration.
Wait. Was that my jerky?
The little boy turned the scrap of jerky over in his palm again and again before finally breaking off the tiniest piece and slipping it onto his tongue. Sweet and salty at once — saliva flooded his mouth of its own accord.
Ah… i-it's so good. Just a little more?
No. He couldn't. Even if he handed over every scrap he had, they would still make his sister work today. He needed to steal more — food, goods, anything — and fast.
He didn't look old enough for elementary school. He scanned the street hard, but there was no one who would help him.
Wh-what do I do… The boss said to bring back a grown-up man…
If he couldn't find food, he was supposed to bring an adult. Do that, and they'd let his sister rest. Young as he was, the boy understood what kind of work his sister did. He didn't want to bring any grown man back. He hated that she had to do it — and none of those men ever came back either. He hadn't seen it himself, but he had a hazy idea of what they did to them.
"Taste good?"
A stranger's voice. The boy's hands started to shake. They'd take it from him. Beat him just short of dying, probably. He jammed the rest of the jerky into his mouth.
"…C-c-cough—"
The hard strip caught in his throat. Tears pricked his eyes. His chest locked up tight.
"Easy. Why are you eating so fast?"
The man caught the boy's hand. A warm current seeped from his palm, slow and steady, and the tightness in the boy's gut eased almost at once.
"Hey, kid. Where do you live? You're not on your own, are you? Can you take me there?"
Aside from his sister, the boy had never known an adult's touch could feel this warm. Children were supposed to grow up with hands like that on them. His heart hammered against his ribs.
…H-he feels like a dad…
Before the end, the boy had had a mother and a father. Their faces had gone soft and blurry, but the memory of their hands still lived in his chest.
This mister seems kind. I can't take him there.
The boy made up his mind.
"N-no? I-I live by myself."
"That so?"
"Y-yes. I'm all grown up now."
"Wow. Impressive. Shame, though. If you had friends living with you, I was going to share some food."
"………"
The boy's eyes wavered. Food? If this man brought food, maybe they'd let his sister rest today.
"H-how much?"
"Hmm. A whole lot. Enough to eat today and tomorrow too."
"O-okay. I-I'll take you. Heheh."
The boy's spirits lifted. Tonight they might eat their fill — and his sister might sleep in peace.
Even a child changes the equation when he's holding a gun. Even I had to respect a K2 rifle. One round I could manage if I wrapped myself in internal energy beforehand. A burst, though — that would be a problem even for me.
As expected, the Gakdagui pack put the youngest kids out to beg and pimp the girls to keep themselves fed. Up to that point, I wouldn't have bothered intervening. They had to eat somehow, same as anyone. Murder, though — that was different. Cross the line, no matter how young you were, and you paid the price.
Click.
The one who looked like their leader leveled his rifle. Distance between us: roughly twenty meters. Dodging a bullet you could already see coming at that range was nearly impossible.
"…Hah? Our little guy brought home a real dangerous uncle. You're Raven, aren't you?"
"Am I that famous?"
"Around here? Nobody doesn't know the name. So? Fancy a warm-up before you go?"
The kid barely looked middle-school age, and his mouth was already filthy.
"I get plenty of exercise. Don't need a warm-up. Did you people kill anyone?"
"People? What people? You still got those in this world?"
Not wrong, exactly — but it was as good as a confession. So how far did I take the reckoning? I had no intention of killing the whole pack.
Bang!
The moment his shoulder tensed, the shot cracked out. Flame spat from the muzzle. The round came screaming in.
I saw it.
I never used to be able to. In that compressed instant my thoughts accelerated past anything human. The world around me slowed to a crawl. The bullet drifted toward me, lazy as a thrown stone.
Could I dodge it?
No. Only my mind had sped up — not my body. But putting a machete in the path of an incoming round? That I could do.
Ting!
The bullet glanced off my blade and spun away. He must have figured it for luck, because he raised the rifle again.
Not twice.
I flicked a chopstick from my back pocket.
Shhk!
It punched straight into the muzzle. He pulled the trigger in the same breath.
Click. BOOM!
The barrel, plugged by the chopstick, ruptured. Shrapnel tore across him in a spray.
"Aaaargh!"
He hit the ground rolling, face already a mask of blood.
I walked toward them, unhurried. They clutched whatever weapons they had and glared, but none of them rushed me.
"Who's next?"
They didn't understand. One kid alone couldn't have been running the whole pack.
"This one's dying. Who is it? Who's the next leader?"
Another boy stepped out of the group.
"You?"
"Y-yeah. You planning to kill all of us?"
"No. No intention of that. Take him and go."
"…Fine. A-alright."
I started to turn away when a girl's voice cut through.
"E-excuse me. Mister!"
A girl pushed out from among the Gakdagui. So this was the sister the little one had talked about.
"What is it?"
"I-I'm sorry. J-just a moment…"
"…Something you want to say?"
She nodded. When I stopped, she spoke.
"I-I heard from my brother. He said you're a good person. I-I know it's shameless, but… p-please help us."
She finished and dipped her head slightly, as if waiting on my judgment.
No. I couldn't take all of them in. And how broken they already were — I couldn't even begin to measure that. Was this girl clean of the looting and the killing?
"…If you want…"
She offered a small smile. Fed properly and cleaned up, she would have been the kind of girl people called pretty. That had never been my criteria for taking people in.
I ignored her and looked down at the dying boy instead.
"You going to leave him to die like this?"
The girl grinned, bright and empty.
"I don't care."
Of course. There had never been any real bond between them.
Where was there left in this world that would take in orphans of the apocalypse? If there was anywhere worth trying…
"Go to the Hounds. At least you won't starve there."
"…I heard they don't take young kids. I heard they kill them if they show up."
Where did a rumor like that come from? They weren't that far gone. They shut orphans out, sure — but they didn't kill them. Not the Hounds I knew.
"No. That's not true. There's a woman there with a nasty temper, but she won't treat you that way."
"…What's your name, mister?"
My name. No reason to hand out the real one.
"Most people call me Raven. That's all you need to know."
"…Raven. That's a pretty name."
Was a crow pretty? The question didn't matter. They were already gathering their things, getting ready to leave for somewhere else.
"H-hey!! You b-bastards! T-take me with you!"
The one who'd shot at me — shrapnel in his eyes, by the look of it — groped blindly and screamed after his pack. Not one of them so much as glanced back. Kids like him were probably the ones spreading the rumors.
Go near the Legion and they'll kill orphans. Don't trust the adults who offer help at the survivor shelters. They'll sell you.
True enough, in pieces. But neither the Legion nor the shelters murdered orphans for no reason. Sold them, yes. That part was real.
"Hey, you son of a—!! Hah, hah… M-mister, p-please, s-save me. Yeah?"
Come nightfall the wild dogs would finish him, or infection would within a few days either way.
"I can make it hurt less."
"…Hahaha, wh-what are you talking about? Huh? Shit, s-save me!!"
I ignored the cursing and watched the orphans of the apocalypse scatter in every direction. One of them was enough for today.
Pat-pat-pat-pat.
The little boy who'd brought me here came running. He pressed something into my hand and squeezed.
Candy? Half-melted, at that?
"…Mister, I was really saving that. Thank you for today. Because of you, big sis doesn't have to work. Hehe."
"Thank you. Well. From now on, you'll be the one protecting your sister, right?"
"Yes! Starting today, I'll protect her just like this."
"Good. Hold still."
I poured internal energy into the boy's dantian and guided it through a slow full-body circuit. No formulas needed. Just the feeling. If the child had any martial talent at all—
"When you're somewhere safe, think about the energy I put in you, and move slowly."
"……Whoa. It's warm."
I ruffled his hair. With luck he'd form a proper dantian. Without it, at least his body would grow strong.
"Sis? Are we really allowed to go there?"
"Yeah. It's just us now."
Once the boss who'd threatened them with the rifle lost both eyes to Raven, the ones who'd followed him simply drifted off on their own. The girl had asked them to come along, but they didn't trust a word Raven had said.
"…Everyone else left?"
"Yeah. They're all gone. It would've been nicer if we'd gone together…"
She smiled gently at her little brother and stroked his hair.
"Yeah? There'll be other kids there."
She took his hand and led him somewhere. She found what she was looking for — canned goods and other preserved food, set aside from the extras the occasional kinder client had slipped her.
"W-wow! You had this?"
"Yeah. Just one each, okay? Then we leave before night."
And so the girl and the boy left the Gakdagui pack behind and set out for the place Raven had named. Maybe wild dogs would make a meal of them on the road. Maybe other survivors would kill them. But human beings cannot live without hope.
On the strength of a single sentence from Raven, they put one foot in front of the other.
How far had they gone?
Grrrrrr.
A pack of wild dogs had caught their scent and was closing the circle, slow and sure. Despair settled over the girl. She should have gathered more of the others before leaving. A larger group, and the dogs might not have dared.
So this is how we die. I should have clung harder to that man earlier… Wait. Wh-what?
A black silhouette stepped between them and the pack.
Shing.
Yipe—yipe—yiiii—
The dogs in front of her came apart in pieces. A man with a machete — one clean cut per animal, nothing wasted. After a few went down, the rest broke and ran.
"…What are you standing around for? These things taste fine. Take what you can carry. Parting gift."
"R-Raven?"
He ignored the girl and the boy and set to dressing the dogs in silence.
"Come help."
"Whoa! Mister! We meet again."
"Yeah, kid. You take this."
Thump.
He tossed over a bag. Inside was everything the little boy loved most in the world — candy and snacks, packed to the brim.