The moon hung low, casting silver light on the cobblestones.
Shadows stretched from crooked buildings, and a cold wind whispered through the alleys.
Beneath the old stone bridge, Johan and Sugaru slept on their torn cloth, hidden in the city's shadow.
From the far end of the bridge, the heavy sound of armored boots echoed against the stone.
Torches flickered, casting light across the mist rising from the river below.
Many guards, led by a stern captain, emerged from the darkness.
Their armor clinked softly as their eyes scanned every corner, every shadow.
"Sir, we lost him here," one of the guards reported, his voice tense.
"We've sealed all the city gates. If he's still in the city, he must be hiding somewhere nearby."
The captain paused, torchlight reflecting off his polished armor and casting sharp shadows across his face.
He surveyed the bridge and the surrounding area, his gaze sharp and commanding.
The wind tugged at his cloak, but his posture remained rigid.
"All right," the captain said, his voice calm but authoritative, carrying over the sound of the river below.
"We'll search the bridge and the surrounding streets thoroughly.
Leave seventy men here with me.
The rest — spread out and sweep the city. Check every alley, every rooftop, every building.
No one leaves until we find that man."
"Yes, sir!" the guards responded in unison, their voices firm.
The captain lifted his torch higher, peering into the shadows beneath the bridge.
Mist swirled around their boots; the river lapped faintly at the stone's edge.
"Be thorough," he ordered.
"He's clever and fast, but even the cleverest have a hiding place.
We will find him."
The men formed a loose cordon under the bridge, torches cutting through the darkness.
The city was silent, the usual night sounds muted by tension.
Johan stirred from his uneasy sleep, the faint rustle of movement above the bridge catching his senses.
Instinctively, his eyes snapped open, and in the dim moonlight, he saw Sugaru stirring beside him.
Sugaru jerked awake, eyes wide with panic.
Sugaru jerked awake, eyes wide with panic.
"Where are you going?!" he cried, clutching Johan's torn shirt as if it were the only thing keeping him safe.
Johan's chest tightened at the sight. He leaned closer, placing a reassuring hand on Sugaru's head.
"No… nowhere," he said softly, his voice steady despite the tension.
"Don't worry, I'm not leaving you, Sugaru."
Sugaru blinked up at him, his panic slowly easing into relief.
"I… I wasn't saying you were leaving me," he murmured, a small smile tugging at the corner of his dirt-streaked lips.
For a brief moment, the two sat in silence, the only sounds the soft ripple of water below and the faint rustle of leaves in the wind.
The warmth of their shared presence held back the cold night around them.
Then, a sharp voice cut through the quiet:
"Sir! I found some people!"
A guard's torchlight wavered across the stone, revealing the two huddled figures beneath the bridge.
Johan's senses prickled. Something was wrong.
The captain's eyes swept over them, a mocking smirk tugging at his lips.
"And what are you two doing here?" he demanded, voice sharp.
Johan straightened, keeping his tone calm.
"We… live here," he replied quietly.
The captain laughed, a cruel sound that echoed across the stone.
"Ah, I've seen that filthy face of yours before," he sneered, crouching slightly to mock them.
Johan didn't flinch. The captain's gaze shifted.
"Have you two seen anyone running through here… wearing a mask?"
"No," Johan said evenly.
"We were sleeping."
A guard whispered on captain's ears.
"Sir… I think they might be with him. We should capture them."
The captain's smirk faded, replaced with a glint of suspicion.
"Right… it might be the case."
Johan's chest tightened.
Danger was close, and he could feel it coiling around them like a snake.
"You'll have to come with us," the captain said, his tone sharp and commanding.
He waved to the other guards. "Search them. See if they're hiding anything."
"Why? What have we done?" Johan asked, stepping slightly forward, his voice steady but edged with defiance.
The captain's face contorted with rage.
"What? Why would I tell anything to beggars like you? I am the guard captain! And how dare you speak against me! Move aside, filth!"
Before Johan could react, the guards shoved him hard. He stumbled backward, hitting the stone with a grunt.
The group of men under the captain's command moved in swiftly, tearing apart the small shelter Johan and Sugaru had built.
Pieces of torn cloth and broken wood flew into the cold night air, along with the few meager belongings they had managed to hold onto.
Sugaru cried out, clutching at Johan as the debris scattered. Johan's jaw tightened.
He could feel the rage and determination building inside him. They were small, weak, and tired—but he would not let this injustice go unanswered.
The other soldiers returned moments later, panting and brushing dust from their armor. "Sir… we didn't find anything," one reported.
The captain's face hardened into a sneer.
"It doesn't matter," he said coldly.
"Capture them. Even if they're not with him… it won't affect anything. Filth like them can rot in a cell for a few days."
Johan's eyes blazed.
"Why are you doing this?" he demanded, his voice raw with anger.
The captain tilted his head, mocking.
"Why? It is what it is," he said slowly, savoring the cruelty.
"You… have no worth."
Something inside Johan snapped. His hands clenched into fists, his muscles coiling like springs.
The first guard lunged at him, grabbing his arm to restrain him—but Johan twisted sharply, elbowing him in the side. The man grunted and stumbled back.
Another guard swung a heavy club, aiming for Johan's head.
Johan ducked just in time, the wood whistling past his ear. With a quick jab, he struck the guard's stomach, sending him sprawling into the riverbank.
"Stay back from him!" Johan roared. Sugaru, though trembling, clung to Johan's side, trying to stay close and shielded.
Three guards charged simultaneously. Johan moved like a storm, his fists a blur.
A punch to one guard's jaw sent him crashing into the stone.
A knee to another's chest made him stumble backward, gasping.
The third tried to tackle him from behind, but Johan spun and caught his shoulder, hurling him into the shallow water.
Steel clanged as one guard drew his sword, slashing at Johan's side.
Johan barely dodged, feeling the cold blade graze his arm. He swung back, his punch connecting with the man's chest, forcing him to stumble back.
Sugaru watched wide-eyed, holding his breath as Johan fought with all the ferocity of a cornered wolf.
Even weak and hungry, Johan refused to be subdued. Every strike, every dodge, was precise, fueled by desperation and rage.
"Don't… leave me!" Sugaru whispered, gripping Johan's sleeve tightly.
The boy's fear ignited Johan's resolve even more.
The guards regrouped, circling him cautiously, but the fire in Johan's eyes made them hesitate.
His fists clenched again, his body ready for the next move. He would not go quietly.
One of the guards stepped forward, eyes narrowed as he watched Johan fend off the men. He spat on the cobbles and spoke in a low, suspicious voice to the captain.
"This is not how a beggar behaves, sir. He fights like he's hiding something. He must be with him."
The captain's face hardened. For a moment the night air seemed to thicken around them. Then he barked the order like a verdict.
"Right. Call it in. We must capture him. If he resists, kill him. Take the child to the holding cells."
At the command, the soldiers shifted like a coiled thing. Steel whispered from scabbards as swords were drawn; torches flared higher, painting the stone in sickly gold.
The men closed ranks, blades pointed, faces empty of mercy.
Is this the end? the thought cut through Johan, sharp and cold.
Even if they cut him down here, what would become of Sugaru?
The boy was only ten — a child who trembled at the edges of the world.
Johan's chest tightened until he could hardly breathe.
"No — no, don't hurt him!" Sugaru's cry broke free, small and raw.
He clung to Johan's sleeve, knuckles white, tears streaking the dirt on his cheeks. His whole body shook as if he would unravel.
All the guards leapt at Johan at once, swords swinging from every direction, aiming to cut him down.
A small voice pierced the chaos. "Cover… the child's eyes!"
Instinctively, Johan threw his arm over Sugaru, shielding the boy in a heartbeat.
And then—in that instant—the two masked figures struck.
One huge and powerful, the other lean and precise, they moved with impossible speed.
Before Johan could even blink, every guard attacking him was cut down, falling to the ground in a blur of motion.
Johan slowly lowered his arm from Sugaru eyes, chest heaving, eyes wide with shock. The boy clung tightly to him, trembling but safe.
The two masked figures stood close to Johan, their presence commanding and silent.
"Sorry We got you in this mess," one said, voice low but firm.
The guard captain froze, eyes wide in disbelief, as he realized the tide had turned. "Soldiers!" he screamed.
Within moments, fifty more guards arrived, encircling the group, weapons drawn but cautious.
The lean, agile figure stepped slightly forward, surveying the scene with calm precision.
"I wanted to get this done without shedding too much blood," he said, his tone almost casual, though every word carried weight.
The huge figure remained silent, towering beside him, muscles tense but controlled, an unspoken warning to anyone who might try to act recklessly.