The kids (even bloody Zachary) went back to fight (i.e. compete with each other) after breakfast. The goblins went to resume their work, and Finn pulled one of the arm chairs to the front porch to watch the battles while sipping tea.

He took the chonky panda and placed him on his lap so he could knead him mindlessly as his mind floated. Pang, who was just lazy by default, just accepted it as a massage.

Who taught him how to cook? It was not his mother, who perished early on. She did teach him some of the basics, like how to crack eggs, not to wash the meat, what color was cooked or medium-rare and such.

Then, they died, he was thrown to the orphanage, and he ran away to find the bastard, starting an immature quest for revenge.

Rather, the person who taught him was an old, lonely grandma who retired from the stressful world of Michelin stars and snobby customers, starting a simple diner by herself.

He met her when he was very young, but before that, he lived a rather rough life in the suburbs next to the City.

It was just after he found out about the recycling jobs and other not-particularly-legal jobs that would accept kids like him as workers.

As an eight-year-old, he learned how to work for the entire day just to get a few bites. He did not mind it because he believed he just needed to work better and work longer so he'd be able to get more money, and then finally save up enough money to find the bastard who killed his parents.

And after a few months, he did manage to save enough money for a bus fare to his location, as well as to ensure food for a few weeks after that. What he'd do after that, his eight-year-old mind simply did not have the foresight for it.

But, truly, how could the world let him be? The bastards who enjoyed taking from the weak appeared again, taking his hard-earned money from him.

For the first time since his parents' deaths, he let out his pent-up bitterness—he became a rabid dog. He bit all those damned bastards—no matter how slimy they were—and his jaw clenched on them even if they punched him over and over.

He was left behind, with quite a bit of injury, but those bastards didn't dare test him again. They'd avoid him like he was a crazy animal that—even if he was weak—was willing to risk his life to bite anyone.

He was finally left alone, and he gained a bit of confidence. Without further ado, he finally bought bus tickets. He was rejected at first because of his filthy appearance, but fortunately, not all tellers and not all drivers were elitist jerks.

He reached the City center, which was mostly rich, but the business districts were also surrounded by some poor people's condominiums.

He traveled a bit more until, after some research (which, again, was a struggle due to his appearance), he managed to find that bastard's place.

He lived in a rented basement unit, though after camping for a while, there was no one who headed in. When he asked around, he found out that he was dead. Commited suicide.

Even now, Finn found it difficult to explain what emotions he was feeling at the time. However, the most prominent ones were anger and regret.

The struggles he went through the past year…what was it for?

The nine-year-old him asked the world: Then, what? What was he supposed to do now?

He roamed around, living day to day like an empty shell. Then, by some stroke of fate, he found himself a member (or an errand boy, to be more accurate) of street gangs that 'took over' the poorer neighborhoods of the City.

It wasn't anything too morbid—the City prohibited gun use—but if one didn't learn to fight for himself, then you were bound to be beaten up.

Of course, these were just a group of former beggars, ruffians, homeless people, and poor people. They weren't exactly like the moralless and greedy bastards who threw him to the sea though. The poor group stole for survival, the other stole just because they could.

It was still a struggle, of course, and the politics was based on fists. He was always bruised at first, though he got better and better as time went on, until he was the one causing bruises.

For the next two years, until he was around eleven years old, this was the life he lived. He could not trust anyone, and he would occasionally have to run for his life, but it was fine.

He didn't know any better.

Things changed when his gang got into a particularly harsh feud with another—involving a woman, apparently—and it ended up bloody with one side using a stick with nails, and the other using a sharpened pole.

The police arrived in time to take them down before it got too bloody, though there were indeed casualties. The areas were closed down, and people were kicked out of their homes, if one could call it that.

Once again, Finn had nowhere to go.

Looking for a job was more difficult in this part of the City because law enforcement was harsher, so he temporarily returned to being a beggar. As always, the best way to fill up one's stomach was to wait for leftovers.

To avoid conflict though, he looked for an 'unmarked' restaurant and he was lucky to find one, located deeper into an alley and not too obvious from the main foot traffic.

It was small, and there were very few people there. He wondered if it was because the food sucked. Of course, he wouldn't be choosy. As long as his stomach was filled.

Who'd have thought that, as he waited next to the trash can, a hot bowl of soup would be handed over to him?

It was ramen, which would eventually become his favorite dish.

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