Liar, Chet’s mind screamed at him as he pulled Shen by the shoulder.

Liar, it screamed again, as he forced the man (though his shoulders were underdeveloped, his limbs lanky, his height shot— like he was just a kid) to stand on the very edge of the building.

If Shen were to fall from a height like this, he’d be dead the moment his head hit the concrete below.

Chet pushed forward, making the man stumble precariously. Until only the tips of his toes were keeping him from falling over.

But Chet wasn’t going to kill him yet.

No, he was only going to scare him. Make him see the height of this building, taste the escape of death before his very eyes— before Chet would pull away. Wrangle his body apart until it was no longer recognizable.

Only then will Shen wish that Chet had given him the mercy of a quick death.

“Now,” Chet growled, pulling out his pistol. “Which leg should I shoot first, Shen? Your left… or—”

He was cut off as he looked back up at the man.

Because to his surprise, Shen was sobbing.

He was shuddering, arms and legs trembling as if he didn’t even have the strength to keep himself upright. And the way he inhaled and exhaled nasally, keening and high—

He sounded just like the children who Chet had seen many a time, back during Long Shore’s civil war. How they cowered at the sound of a matchlock. Crying until they could no longer breathe, almost suffocating themselves in the process.

Chet’s own brother had sounded exactly like this, on the night of the Massacre.

“Stop crying,” Yelling, Chet shook Shen back and forth, almost making him slip off the edge in the process.

But Shen only continued to sob louder, unable to even offer a reply.

Chet bellowed, “Stop it!”

Liar.

This man was lying to him. He was trying to trick him. And after all these years, after all that time spent wishing, praying , imagining what it would be like to finally have Shen in his grasp—

Chet would have to throw it away, as guilt and pity began to worm its way into his chest.

Because Shen seemed so small, crying like this. So unlike the man that Chet had pictured. He had thought he would be cruel, laughing at the face of pain. But this… he was only a boy.

Far too young to have plotted something so horrifying. Far too weak and feeble to have overthrown 25 people. Far too meek and boyish— like Chet’s own brother.

“N-Not..” the man, no— the boy muttered, still huffing around tears. “I’m not… Shen.”

And Chet hated himself, because at that moment: he believed him.

“Alright.” Chet murmured, the softness in his voice surprising even himself. “Alright, I’ll put you down.”

As Chet took a step back, finally allowing the boy to fall back to his knees, shuddering— he took stock of the bandages that ran round his face. How it obscured everything, except for one milky, blinded eye.

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“Who… did that to you?” Chet asked, gesturing at him vaguely.

The child looked down at himself, swiping at the tears that had fallen from his left eye. His bandages looked moist. He met Chet’s gaze, briefly, before glancing back down. In fear, perhaps. Or maybe something else.

Softly, the boy answered, “The man that you’re looking for.”

Chet’s brows rose in shock. Shen had hurt this boy, too. Another victim— and Chet had been foolish enough to nearly kill him.

The Prince had lied to him.

Chet didn’t really have anyone else to blame. But despite that, Chet had been the one who was foolish enough to actually believe that so-called witness. He should have known better.

“I’m sorry,” Chet said lowly. However, he still pulled out a pair of cuffs from his blazer. “I know you aren’t Shen… but by the law, I will have to arrest you for being a member of the Triads.”

The boy scrambled up to his feet, at an alarming speed. “Wait! Y-You mean… I’ll be brought to the precinct?”

Chet nodded solidly. “Don’t make this harder for yourself kid. I’ve had enough of chasing you down.”

“No, you don’t understand!” the kid exclaimed, subconsciously raising a hand to gently cup at his own face. As if to shield it from view. To hide it. “I can’t… if the rest of the Triads knew of my true identity, they would…”

Chet tilted his head to the side, in thought. “What?”

The child was quiet for a moment, mulling something over to himself. In any other circumstance, Chet would have slapped the cuffs on him long ago. But perhaps, Chet was still feeling a small pang of guilt for scaring the boy so much.

“You have three seconds to tell me what’s going on,” Chet said darkly.

“I-I just—” the boy swallowed. “I have something. Something that the other gangs might want. If they knew who I was, I’d be dead meat.”

Chet shrugged loosely, “Well, I’ve got nothing to do for you. I can’t just let you go—”

As he moved a step forward, brandishing the cuffs again, the kid sidestepped away. The boy raised his hands in the air, placating. “Wait, wait! We can figure something out…I-I could give you money! If I tried, I could probably nick some—”

Chet loomed closer. The promise was enticing, but wealth would bring him nothing, now.

“—uh…” the kid tried again, taking a few more steps back. His gaze traveled widely, as he tried to think of something to say.

Before his eye darkened. His back grew slouched. His stance, the way he carried himself— seemed to change in a mere second.

“It’s strange to me,” the boy echoed. His voice was eerie, like the mere wisp of wind. “How you only began to search for Shen at this moment, Enforcer… did your baby brother finally whinge and cry enough for you to put the pieces together?”

Chet’s shoulders squared. “What in the Eight Hells did you just say?”

“Oh, don’t get all grumpy,” the child said blankly. “I promise— I’m not Shen. In fact, you’d do well to have me on your side.”

“How do you know about my brother?” Chet seethed through clenched teeth.

“I’m posing you a deal, Enforcer,” droning, the boy continued, “I will give you the information you need to take down the Triads. In exchange, you must do two things for me—”

“I’m not agreeing to squat, you crazed lunatic,” Chet spat. “I’m tired of being tossed around like I’m some type of pawn.”

He thought back to the Prince. What his true intentions may be—

And now, he had this kid to deal with. One who seemed to know what had happened to Chet’s brother.

Perhaps, that was why Chet didn’t move forward to tackle and arrest the damn kid. He wanted to listen. He wanted to know.

“All I’m asking for is that you don’t arrest me…” the kid said lowly. “And… that you destroy the Triads.”

Chet looked at him, speechless.

“In fact, I’ll sweeten the deal.” Chet could almost hear the smile on the boy’s face as he said, “You can go ahead and arrest everyone in this runners’ den.”

He swooped his arm graciously, gesturing at the entire building. The kid carried on to say, “And I’m going to be meeting up with another member, too— a man called Chin Hae. You can arrest that man too.”

“Why…” Chet narrowed his eyes. “Why are you doing this?”

“I just told you,” the kid shrugged. “I want the Triads to be nothing more than rubble beneath my feet.”

“I…” Chet trailed off.

If he could take down the Triads, the entirety of Jae-dyn would be free of all illicit trade. For the first time since he had been drafted into the Milita, Chet would be able to make real change.

Change beyond what he had been able to accomplish, during the civil war. Change beyond what a washed-up, drunk Enforcer could have ever done.

He’d take the Triads down.

Because if he can’t have Shen— he may as well take revenge on the next best thing.

The fools who had tricked his brother into meeting face-to-face with Shen.

Chet looked back up at the boy.

“I don’t make deals with strangers,” Chet drawled, extending a hand.

The kid smirked, the bandages wrapped around his chin stretching unevenly. He took Chet’s hand in his, and gave it a firm shake. “Kizuna."