The city shimmered under early sunlight — the kind of heat that didn't burn, but made metal swell and wires twitch.
Kira moved like a shadow between buildings, wrapped in a dust cloak, goggles low over his eyes. In the daylight, Theed looked pristine. But if you knew where to look, if you knew which drains still hummed with power, which refuse bins buzzed with signal noise…
You found treasure.
[Tech System Ping: Viable Component Detected — 37m]
→ Category: Power Modulator (Salvage Grade C)
→ Status: Inert — Safe to extract
He smiled.
The modulator was jammed inside the rusted husk of an old aqueduct relay near the shipping district. He popped the panel with a crowbar, jammed his screwdriver in like a scalpel, and—
"Gotcha."
The component slid free with a satisfying clink. Not perfect. But better than the trash they had yesterday.
By noon, he'd collected:
2 cracked-but-serviceable capacitor coils,
A broken comlink with parts still intact,
And a discarded nav-reader that might still boot.
But it wasn't the haul that made him pause.
It was the scream.
He heard it faintly, behind the spice vendor on a quiet back street. A girl — no, a young woman. Not loud enough to draw crowds, but just sharp enough to cut through the air.
Then, muffled voices. Male.
"C'mon now, don't be so uptight—"
"I said get your hands off me."
There was movement. A scuffle.
Kira edged closer. His system pinged him silently:
[No actionable data. Threat proximity: Moderate]
He peered around the corner.
Two men — local street scum by the look of them. Dressed nice enough to pass in public, but not noble. One leaned against the wall, a grin too wide. The other was trying to block the girl's path.
She wore ivory robes, a veil partly slipped from her head. Young — maybe his age. But the way she stood? Proud. Poised. Trained.
She shoved one of them back.
"You will regret this."
"You royal types always say that," one sneered, raising a hand.
Kira exhaled. Fast. Quiet.
This wasn't his fight.
But her eyes flicked to him for half a second — a silent, desperate spark of connection.
And just like that?
It was.
He grabbed a small flash charge from his belt — improvised from a busted mining flare — and tossed it underhand across the alley.
CLANK — HSSSS — BANG.
The white flash stunned the thugs for barely a second.
But it was enough.
Kira dashed in, low and fast, and slammed his shoulder into the bigger one. The man went stumbling back, dazed.
The second reached for something at his belt — a blade. Kira saw it glitter. Pure, black-handled. A vibroknife.
[Weapon: Vibroknife Identified. Status: Armed]
→ User: Hostile. Proficiency: Low.
Kira didn't think.
He yanked a scrap rod from his satchel, deflected the swing awkwardly, and punched the guy in the stomach. As the man doubled, Kira grabbed the knife from his grip and staggered back.
The blade buzzed softly in his hand. It felt… right.
[Weapon Acquired: Vibroknife (Grade C)]
He didn't wait.
The two thugs started scrambling up — but froze when they saw the blade in Kira's hand and the fire in his eyes.
"Run," Kira said.
And they did.
Silence.
The girl stood there, breathing hard, adjusting her veil.
Then she spoke — not with fear, but with controlled, clipped gratitude.
"That was… reckless. But effective."
Kira blinked. "You're welcome?"
"Do you live here? In the city?"
"...Sort of."
Her gaze flicked to the vibroknife in his hand. "Do you know what you just stole?"
"Yeah. A knife."
"A military-grade vibroknife. Stolen from someone who's going to report its loss to people who'll notice."
Kira frowned, slipping it into his belt. "Guess I'll just have to not get caught."
She stepped closer — not threatening, just curious.
"You're not just a thief. You're smart. And you move like someone who shouldn't know how."
"Neither do you."
That made her smile. Just a little.
"Thank you… stranger."
And then, she turned, veil re-draped, and walked away. Perfect posture. No limp. No fear.
Just gone.
As Kira melted back into the alleys, his system chimed again:
He exhaled. "Yeah. That'll do."
The city always looked different after a fight.
It was something Kira hadn't known before this world — how light shifted, how air thickened. Even the wind through the alleys felt sharper, like it was dragging old tension behind it.
The vibroknife hung against his thigh, tucked into a makeshift cloth sheath. Its hum was off now, but he could still feel its weight. Not just physical — it was a symbol.
He'd done something today.
He'd changed the story.
The sun was sliding lower by the time he reached the old maintenance grate and ducked into their tunnel. The transition from warm city air to cool underground rust never got easier, but it was home now.
Home enough.
The hideout was dim, half-lit by the salvaged wall light Kira had rigged to a solar trickle cell. Inside, Hikaru sat cross-legged, a handful of wires and old circuit boards scattered around him.
He looked up immediately.
"You were gone forever."
"City's big."
"Yeah, well, I started worrying you got run over by a diplomat's hovercar or something."
Kira tossed his satchel onto the workbench. "Nah. Just got into a fight with a couple creeps, saved some fancy girl, stole a knife."
Hikaru stared. "Wait, what?"
Kira drew the vibroknife carefully and placed it on the table. It gleamed faintly in the dim light — not polished, not ceremonial. Functional. Heavy. Sharp.
Hikaru leaned closer. "That's military issue."
"So I've been told."
"And you just… have it now?"
"Would you prefer I didn't?"
"I'd prefer you not poke anyone with it."
Kira smirked and sat down, pulling out the other salvage from his bag.
"We needed a weapon. Now we have one."
For a few minutes, silence settled between them. The hum of the broken fan above. The occasional drip from an old condensation pipe.
Kira began organizing the day's haul. His fingers moved without thinking — stripping wires, identifying connectors, cataloging possible reuses.
Hikaru, meanwhile, just kept watching the knife.
"You said you saved someone?"
"Girl. About our age. Veil, formal robe. Looked… important."
"What happened?"
Kira shrugged. "Two thugs cornered her in an alley. She was holding her own, but it was two-on-one. So I distracted them. Fought one. Took the knife."
Hikaru stared at him.
"You really did that?"
"What, you think I can't throw hands?"
"No, I think you shouldn't throw hands. But also… wow."
He sounded impressed. And maybe a little unnerved.
Kira didn't say what he'd felt in that moment — how fast his instincts had taken over. How natural the movement felt. How the knife, unfamiliar as it was, hadn't felt foreign in his grip.
It had felt inevitable.
Later, after the gear had been sorted and dinner (a questionable protein bar split in half) had been eaten, Kira sat cross-legged with the knife in his lap.
He turned it slowly.
No engravings. No markings. The grip was solid — polymer-coated alloy, textured for friction. A hidden switch at the hilt activated the vibro-motor. He flicked it once.
VMMMMMMMMM—
The blade vibrated, a soft hum radiating through the hilt. He could feel it in his bones.
He shut it off quickly.
"You're gonna cut your arm off doing that," Hikaru said from across the room.
"Relax. I'm not stupid."
"Debatable."
Kira rolled his eyes, but he was smiling now. A little.
That night, as they lay on their makeshift beds, the city quiet above, Hikaru finally asked:
"You think she'll come looking for you?"
"Doubt it. Didn't give her my name."
"Maybe she'll tell someone anyway."
Kira exhaled slowly.
"Let 'em come. I'm not the one who picked the fight."
"You're the one who finished it."
A pause.
Then Hikaru added:
"You did good."
Kira didn't answer. Just closed his eyes and let the tension drift out of his fingers, still aching from the fight.
🌙 Meanwhile — Royal Quarters, Theed Palace
Sabé stood in silence before the security console, veil now properly arranged, expression neutral.
Captain Panaka watched her carefully, arms crossed.
"Describe the boy again."
"Late teens. Smarter than he looked. Dirty coat. Modified goggles. Moved like someone used to hiding."
"And you're sure he wasn't one of the local urchin packs?"
"He spoke better than most nobles, sir."
Panaka's frown deepened. "And he took a vibroknife off a trained man?"
Sabé nodded.
Panaka tapped the console.
"We'll check old security archives. Cross-reference facial logs. If he's not from here… we'll know soon enough."
Sabé didn't say anything else. But in her mind, she kept replaying the brief flash of that boy's eyes.
Focused. Calm. Capable.
🛠 Hideout – Just Before Dawn
Kira didn't sleep well that night.
He kept one hand on the vibroknife the whole time.
Not out of fear.
Out of something else.
Readiness.
End of Chapter 5.