SPLASH!
Van jolted awake, spluttering as a cold blast of water smacked him in the face. He wiped his drenched face, blinking furiously before locking eyes with the culprit.
Dame stood beside the bed, grinning mischievously, the water gun still dripping in his hand.
"Rise and shine, sleepyhead! We've got work to do," Dame announced, spinning the water gun on his finger like a cowboy with a revolver.
Van groaned, flopping back onto his pillow. "Dude… just 15 more minutes," he pleaded, dragging the blanket over his head.
Dame smirked, tossing the water gun aside. "Sure, no problem," he said casually, stretching his arms. "We'll just forget about going outside today."
Van shot up instantly, eyes wide. "WHAT?! No way!" He clenched his fists, then—without hesitation—began slapping himself across the face, over and over.
Dame stepped back, stifling a laugh. "Whoa, dude, chillax! No need for self-destruction!"
Van glared at him through squinted eyes. "Thanks for the advice, Dame the Joker—but I don't need it." He shook off the last remnants of sleep, cracking his knuckles. "I'm awake now."
Dame's grin widened. "That's more like it! Now, let's hustle before Miss Lana finds a reason to lock us inside for another week."
With that, the two boys sprang into action, moving through the orphanage like a well-oiled machine. Sweeping, scrubbing, stacking, folding—no chore left unfinished. The sun crept over the horizon as they worked, casting golden rays through the windows.
By the time morning arrived, the house was spotless.
Van wiped his forehead, exhaling sharply. "Mission complete," he muttered.
Dame slung an arm over his shoulder. "And now, my friend… the real fun begins."
They exchanged knowing grins.
Today, they were finally getting out.
---
In a modest yet well-kept office, a stunning Japanese woman stood by the window, her slender, curvy frame illuminated by the morning sun. Her long black hair flowed over her shoulders, and she held a phone to her ear, speaking in a clear, authoritative tone.
Funding, repairs, expenses—her words carried the weight of responsibility.
Outside her office door, two cheeky boys stood waiting like criminals about to rob the World Bank.
Dame and Van exchanged knowing glances, their grins widening until their faces could barely contain them.
Inside, Miss Lana sighed, pressing a hand to her temple.
"Yes, Avvy, you should come over and check the pump. I think there's something wrong with it," she said, irritation slipping into her voice. "And while you're at it, get the innovation company guys over here too. Today's a disaster."
She groaned. "I need to step outside to run some errands..."
The moment the call ended, Dame nudged Van with his elbow. "This is it, man. We've got this."
Van gave a short nod, his eyes glinting with excitement.
Dame smirked, rolling his shoulders. "Follow my lead.
"Hey, Miss Lana," Dame called out, flashing his signature grin. "Everything okay? You look really stressed."
Miss Lana sighed, running a hand through her sleek black hair. "It's nothing, boys. Just a little exhausted, that's all."
Dame leaned in slightly, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Speaking of exhausted, I overheard you saying you needed to run some errands. Anything we could do to help?"
Miss Lana shook her head. "Like I said, boys, it's nothing. I can handle it."
"Oh, come on, Miss Lana," Dame pressed, nudging Van for backup. "We miss those days when we used to help you out. Let us handle this one—just for a change. It's been a while."
Miss Lana hesitated, her lips pursing as she considered their offer.
"We'll get everything on the list and have it here by 3:30," Dame continued, undeterred. "And it's only 3 o'clock now. Piece of cake."
"Please, please, pretty please?" Van chimed in, clasping his hands together dramatically.
Miss Lana sighed in defeat. "Ughhh... Alright, fine." She reached into her desk, pulling out a folded list and a few crisp bills. "Take this. Head over to Yanki Supermarket and get everything on the list. But listen carefully—be back here before 3:30. And, for the love of everything good, do not get into trouble."
Dame and Van exchanged victorious grins.
"Trust us, Miss Lana," Dame said smoothly, snatching the list. "We got this."
Miss Lana didn't look convinced. If only she knew.
"Haha! We did it!" Van cheered, throwing his fists in the air. "We're finally outside the orphanage!"
Dame smirked. "Now, all we have to do is find a taxi, get to Yanki's, grab the items, and spend some time outside. We might even check out the dojo."
"Or..." Dame stretched his arms behind his head lazily. "We could just walk and stroll around for a bit. You know, save on transportation fees and all."
Van blinked, then grinned. "That has to be the second smartest thing I've heard this week. Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?"
"Haha, very funny," Dame rolled his eyes. "Wait till we get back home—you'll have to put up with my superhero shenanigans." He smirked mischievously.
As they strolled through the street, Van suddenly stopped. Up ahead, a boy around their age—dressed in tattered clothes—was being ruthlessly bullied. The attackers wore white hoodies, each marked with a red skull symbol.
Van's fists clenched. His blood boiled.
"Hey!" His voice roared through the street, his anger barely contained. "You white-hooded bastards don't deserve to live!"
The gang paused, turning toward him with sneers.
"You should be ashamed of yourselves!" Van continued, his eyes burning with fury. "You have the strength to protect this neighborhood—to be respected and loved! But instead, you choose violence, cruelty, and cowardice! One day, you'll suffer the same fate you bring upon others, and I swear, I'll be there to laugh and spit on your ugly faces!"
Dame groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Damn it. This idiot just signed his death sentence. How the hell am I supposed to explain to Miss Lana that Van got beaten into a pulp by a bunch of bigger guys? She's gonna flip."
One of the gang members stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "Check out this lowlife motherfucker, trying to play savior. Let's rip him apart."
And just like that, they pounced.
Van barely had time to react before he was tossed around like a ragdoll, fists and kicks slamming into him from all sides.
Dame winced. Yep, he's dead.
But just as one of the bullies swung for another hit, Van took a deep breath—his body tensing.
Then, he moved.
It wasn't perfect, but the techniques he had been secretly observing from the old martial artist for weeks were finally put to the test. His stance shifted, his footwork adjusted, and with a quick motion—he dodged.
The gang member's fist hit nothing but air.
Van exhaled. Alright… let's see if all that watching actually paid off.
Dame's eyes widened in disbelief. Woah… Van's actually going toe-to-toe with these guys?
Despite being outnumbered, Van was holding his ground. He was using the techniques he had secretly studied, countering attacks, dodging just in time, and even landing hits of his own.
"Your friend has a good heart, boy," a calm, raspy voice spoke beside Dame.
Dame turned his head and found an old man standing there, carrying a large grocery bag with the word Yanki's printed on it. His sharp, knowing eyes watched the fight with keen interest.
"With a little refinement, the two of you could become great martial artists."
Dame's eyes widened in recognition. "You're the old man from the dojo! Good day, sir!" He quickly bowed in respect.
The old man chuckled. "You're a good kid. But you should hurry and get Miss Lana's things before she worries." He reached into his robe and handed Dame some cash. "Here, take a taxi and go. I'll take care of your friend."
Dame hesitated for a moment, unsure. But something about the old man felt trustworthy—like an immovable force of nature. He nodded, took the money, and quickly flagged down a taxi to Yanki Supermarket.
The old man turned his attention back to Van, his eyes narrowing with deep contemplation. This boy…
A subtle wave of energy rippled through the air.
The old man gathered Beastial Ki into his body and slowly released it. The shift was almost imperceptible, yet every person in the vicinity felt it—a primal, bone-deep fear creeping into their very souls.
Some shivered. Others clutched their chests. And some, feeling as if an invisible predator was watching them, immediately bolted.
Van had just managed to take down three gang members using the technique he had observed, albeit a weaker version. He panted heavily, feeling his muscles burn. But then… something strange happened.
The remaining gang members, who moments ago were ready to beat him senseless, suddenly froze. Their faces turned pale as fear gripped them. Without hesitation, they scattered like rats, sprinting away as if the devil himself was chasing them.
Even the bystanders hurried off, feeling an inexplicable dread.
Soon, the street was empty.
Van remained standing in the middle of it, dazed, gasping for breath. The boy he had defended stood beside him, just as shocked.
What… just happened?
His heart pounded—not from exhaustion, but from exhilaration.
I actually fought… and won.
It felt strange. But at the same time, it felt good. Like something inside him had awakened.
And then—
Ding!
A mystical voice echoed inside his head.
[Congratulations, Host.]
[ the Ultimate Ninja System has been unlocked unlocked.]
[Do you accept.]
[Yes] or [No]
Van's breath hitched. His mind blanked for a moment.
The… what?
But before he could process it, a voice had interrupted him
"You seem like you're in shock, young one," the old man's voice snapped Van out of his daze.
Van turned his head, his eyes widening as realization dawned on him.
"You… It's you… You're the old man from the dojo."