This chapter is brought to you by The Moon Will Sing by The Crane Wives.

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Nine celebrated his twelfth birthday by sending the children off to Church and executing three men back-to-back at the Arena.

He has made a name for himself in the Arena as Cat, the boy with nine lives.

How that monicker came to be, Nine had no idea. Whoever was in charge of public relations needed to get a grip. He wasn't sold to the Arena just so they could make him into a circus act.

The audience members enjoyed watching a spectacle. Large men with builds towering over his own was a sight rarely seen, and the satisfaction of seeing a child slaughter their opponent with nothing but a knife made them happy.

If the Arena hadn't sheltered the children and given him an allowance, he would have threatened to leave long ago.

The day ended with Nine scrubbing blood out of his hair and fingernails.

Noa approached him once he was changed into clean clothes.

"Here you are. Happy Birthday."

The man who had brought him to the Arena plopped a cat into his arms.

Nine stared at the cat. It was large and heavy with long grey hair and amber eyes.

It mewled.

"... Another mouth to feed," he said.

"Hey now," Noa objected, "Don't call him that."

"Coin-eater."

"Toby--"

"Fish."

"Not again--"

"Hungry."

The cat mewled in response.

Both Nine and the cat looked at Noa.

The man blinked, and then he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Alright. Cow, Dog, and Hungry. At least it's not Fish."

---

"Toby!"

"Hey, kid, you can't be in here right now--"

"No! Toby! I want Toby!"

"Kid, you're bleeding--"

The Arena cell was in disarray. The other executioners didn't know what to do about a little girl wandering in trying to find Cat.

Nine appeared at that moment covered in blood.

Duri saw him and pushed an executioner out of the way. She frantically ran toward him with her eyes blown wide with panic.

"They took her! Toby, they took her!"

Nine paused. Calmly, he asked, "... Who?"

Tears welled in Duri's eyes. "Ten," she sobbed.

Nine froze.

---

The person who took Ten was the son of a man whom Nine had previously executed.

Someone had leaked Nine's address.

Someone revealed the fact that there were children under Nine's care.

Someone had to pay.

Dea was a clerical worker at the Arena. He was in charge of updating the number of criminals killed in the Arena. He had the personal information of every executioner working in the Arena.

Noa and the other executioners dragged him into a torture cell.

Nine left with Duri to track down the man who took Ten.

---

The children were frightened out of their wits. The Sisters of the Church provided them shelter after learning of what happened.

Nine saw them huddled together on a bench, shaken and crying. He saw Otto and some of the other boys with bruises. Tess, the girl, looked slightly rumpled, but she was thankfully unhurt.

Sister Mev came forward worriedly. The concern on her face was palpable.

"Ten?"

"Taken."

"Where?"

She shook her head. "She was abducted during the break between classes. We don't know where he took her."

Nine looked at the children. "Stay with them," he said.

The Sister nodded.

---

He didn't have time to comfort the children.

Ten's whereabouts were unknown and each second that passed meant the girl could have been sold.

She was no longer the helpless little baby in his arms. Ten was now four, and Nine had allowed her to be taken from right under his nose.

Ula would never forgive him.

"Toby." Noa was standing at the door of his ransacked home.

Nine was looking for clues and wading through broken furniture.

The man in black looked at him solemnly.

"We found them."

---

The man who had taken Ten was the son of a slave trafficker.

Nine had faced his father in the arena. The man didn't know of his reputation and chose Nine as his executioner based on his age.

With a monicker like Cat, the man assumed he was an easy opponent.

Nine toyed with him for an entire hour before killing him.

Slave trafficking was taboo in the Interstellar Era. Those caught for such crimes were given the worst punishments possible and more. In an age of war, for humans to turn on other humans due to greed was unacceptable.

The son, a man named Ban, was kneeling on the ground when Nine entered the Arena cell.

He was a pathetic man, struggling in his ropes while glaring venomously at him.

Nine recognized him.

"You were in the audience," he said, implying that the man had watched his father's execution.

He cocked his head, his patience running thin when the man tried to speak despite being gagged.

Nine kicked him square in the chest.

The man went down with a grunt and Nine crouched down with a letter opener pressed against his throat.

"Is this revenge?" he asked.

The man's pupils dilated with fear, and Nine wanted to gouge his eyes out.

He ripped off the gag.

"Where is Ten?" he demanded.

The man swallowed a mouthful of saliva.

Nine put more pressure on the letter opener.

"The cabin! They took her to the cabin!"

"What. Cabin."

"The one on the outskirts of town! It's near the apple orchard!"

Nine shoved him away like discarded trash.

He turned to Noa and the rest of the men in black.

"Go ahead, kid. We'll take it from here," Noa assured him.

---

Nine found the cabin where Ten was being held.

There was no sign of anyone else nearby, but he noticed a figure from the window of the cabin.

Nine narrowed his eyes.

Once he rescued Ten, he would hunt down every single person who ever laid their hands on his children and make them wish they were dead.

He kicked down the door non-too gently and dust sweeped into the air.

It was dark and musky inside the cabin, with traces of people having been there.

Nine stepped through the threshold and saw a rope hanging from the ceiling.

The dust cleared and he saw--

Red shoes.

Ten was a four-year-old little girl in a little dress, white stockings, and red shoes.

Nine had bought those shoes for her birthday. She had worn them every single day since.

Those same shoes hung in the air with their owner.

She was like a sprite floating in the air, her body limp and cold as it swung.

The rope around her neck was tight, and her head was bent at an unnatural angle.

"Toby! Toby! Look! Hungry!"

She held a disgruntles Hungry up in the air, a feat that impressed even him. Hungry was a rather large cat.

He noticed the bows tied behind each of Hungry's ears. A smile curled on his lips.

"Toby, we caught the rest--oh" Noa walked inside and then paused.

Nine continued to stare at the scene before him as if that would reverse everything.

"Why don't you wait outside?"

He left the cabin in silence.

---

Grief was not an emotion Nine was familiar with.

He had not grieved when the village was set on fire and the woman who became his mother was confirmed dead.

As a formal soldier, grief was not an emotion anyone had time for. Friends and comrades died every day, but stopping to think about it wasted precious energy.

Yet...

What was this feeling of rage and regret burning in his chest?

This feeling of bile rising in his throat?

The scream at the tip of his tongue, just waiting to be heard as the world crumbled around him?

He wasn't allowed to see the body.

They found bruises all over, black and blue and purple staining what was once unblemished skin.

The children, his children, cried.

Ten was the youngest. She was the baby.

But that was all she was given. Life, that was. She went too early, and it was unfair, but that was it.

---

The boy was playing with him.

Amidst the morning dew and fog, Ban thought he had a chance.

His opponent was just as blinded by the thick fog as he was.

He was mistaken, for it seemed the boy was truly like a beast.

Ban felt those eery green eyes tracking him from within the fog. The killing intent was heavy in the air, and his mind was blaring with panic and fear.

The boy will kill him, this he knew.

Yet, death did not come to him instantly.

It was drawn out and painful, and each encounter with that beast left him with a painful cut on his body.

Ban panted, his breath ragged with exhaustion.

He frantically looked around. His heart was beating against his ear. There was only the white fog and nothing else--

"Boo."

The boy was behind him.

Ban screamed, and the knife went soaring into the air.

He thrashed, but the boy had caught him.

He fought, and the boy broke an arm. And then another. And then shattered his kneecaps.

The long jagged red lines painted his body.

A painful stab through his stomach.

Once.

Twice.

Ban keeled over onto his knees, and then he screamed again when he remembered his kneecaps were shattered.

He was pulled roughly by the hair until he faced those eyes, demonic and beast-like, and out for blood.

Ban didn't notice when the knife came down one last time. The blade pierced through his throat and he belatedly felt it exit through the back of his neck.

And then--and then...

And then he was dead.

---

Valerius Calypto watched as the boy killed three criminals in a row.

The child seemed a little too young to work as an executioner, but his methods were effective and he seemed to take great pleasure in staining the ground red with the blood of criminals.

"What's his name?" he asked, to no one in particular.

One of the executioners accompanying him and his wife stepped forward.

"Cat, my lord."

"His name?"

"Toby Arcadia."

"Arcadia?" his wife suddenly asked.

"Yes, my Lady."

Valerius spotted a flash of those emerald green eyes from where he sat, easily recognizing the familiar features of a man he once knew.

"Bring him here once he is finished."

"Of course, my Lord."

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[....... In the sixty-third year of the Interstellar Calendar of ZEFRE-2B9, Day 82, the trajectory of the world line where Soldier 9A1420H5 -ZT4's consciousness is currently located has changed course. A large disturbance has once again been detected. Extraction of his consciousness from <> has been stalled .......]

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The author has something to say:

If you've made it this far, I would like to say thank you for being patient. I swear the main storyline will be picking up very soon. So far, writing non-stop has made me realize I am showing you, my dear readers, the bare-bone foundations of my writing before revisions and edits. It is a very vulnerable version of my usual writing and lacks a great deal of flavor, but the goal is to tell a story in a month, so I shall endeavor to do just that. Thank you for reading!