The sun had just risen, light shining through the sky, and a burning sensation could be felt on the arm of the so-called hopeless child—Jamie. At just 17 years old, he was an orphan, no parents, no guardian. Practically a free kid, roaming the streets, begging for cash, and usually sleeping in abandoned houses.
Suddenly, Jamie woke up. He looked to the side, seeing his arm fully red, burned by the harsh light of the sun.
"Ouch, goddammit, it hurts. What the hell? Why am I on the side of the road? I could've sworn I found a perfect hideout," Jamie muttered to himself.
He glanced back at the office building he had slept upon yesterday and saw an angry man standing by the window, glaring down at him.
"Geez, talk about scary, huh? Anyway, goddamn, my arm is burning. How annoying. I should probably keep moving."
Rumble.
"My god, my stomach's in pain. Talk about bad luck—first my arm, now my stomach. I need some food, dang it."
Jamie spotted a small food stand in the middle of the town square. He walked up to it, where two men sat nearby, visibly drunk. Jamie approached the vendor.
"Uh, I'll be totally honest, food guy. I ain't got no money, but I'm pretty hungry. Can you spare some food for me?" Jamie asked, trying to sound casual.
The food vendor glared at him. "The hell? Free food? Are you serious? What the hell are you thinking? I'm working my ass off for barely any profit, and you want free food? Scram, kid."
"Geez, food guy, no need to be so rude."
Rumble.
Without hesitation, Jamie snatched two bags of packed bread and took off running. The vendor screamed after him, catching the attention of a nearby officer. The officer saw Jamie running and immediately gave chase, quickly catching up and cornering him in an alley near the food stand. The vendor stood by, watching the scene unfold, while the two drunk men observed from the sidelines.
"What the hell is this? I'm just trying to get some food, officer. Get outta here, I got no business with you," Jamie spat.
The officer, speaking in a strict tone, said, "You just stole that bread. I'm taking you to the station for that."
Jamie glanced left and right, desperate for an escape. "The fuck you mean? You're all a bunch of rich schmucks! I know how much this corrupt government pays you pigs!"
The officer didn't respond, but he moved closer, the gap shrinking to less than five meters.
"Yo, officer, back off. I'm warning you," Jamie said, his fists clenched.
The officer stepped closer. Suddenly, smack! The officer took a hard left fist straight to the face, cutting through the air and hitting him directly. A small but noticeable bulge formed where the punch landed, blood trickling down his face.
One of the drunk men piped up, "Did you see that, Denki? He hit him right in the face—a left jab, right to the face!"
Denki looked down at the ground, barely able to comprehend what his friend, Dakam, had said through his drunken haze.
The food vendor stood there, shocked, frozen at the scene that had unfolded. Jamie took advantage of the confusion, sprinting at full speed toward the edge of town. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, Jamie found a quiet spot to rest and escape the chaos. But just as he settled down, a man—someone Jamie had seen before—approached him.
The man spoke up, "Boy, it's you, right? The boy that knocked out the officer with that left jab."
Jamie looked up, annoyed. "Huh? You drunk? Scram, I'm trying to relax."
"No, no," the man said. "You don't understand. That jab of yours—it's strong. Like, strong enough to kill a person."
Jamie sighed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "That a problem, old man?"
The man shook his head. "Look, kid, my name's Dekam. I'm a retired boxer. I was one of the best once. I had everything until my brain got messed up. Won several titles, but the corrupt government screwed me over."
"Yeah, yeah, what a struggle," Jamie replied, rolling his eyes. "Look, old man, I didn't ask for your life story. I'm trying to sleep here."
Dekam leaned in, undeterred. "Tell me your name, boy."
"It's Jamie, old man."
"Jamie," Dekam repeated, his eyes wide. "You're the chosen one. I can be your teacher. I'll make you a millionaire. I can get you anything. I've got the experience, and you've got the power. We'd be the perfect match."
Jamie, looking confused, scoffed. "Look, old man, I don't care what you're trying to sell me. I'm not a boxer. I just fight for fun, I guess. I don't want to fight for fame."
Dekam looked shocked. "No, no, but you can—"
Jamie cut him off, his voice cold. "Look, Dekam, or whatever your name is, I don't give a fuck. I'm already outta this town by tomorrow. The stupid government's probably gonna hunt me down since I fucked up by hitting that cop. They'll send me to some shitty foster home where I'll get beaten for talking back."
Dekam stared at Jamie, his voice softening. "Let me adopt you."