The Fall of Icarus (Cyberpunk)

Preparing dinner didn't take long. To my surprise, Kivi even offered her help midway through the process. I didn't know why she suddenly changed her attitude, but I didn't refuse her help, seeing it as an opportunity to build a relationship. I explained every step of the cooking process in detail, hoping to teach the girl something useful. The skill of cooking would certainly be more valuable in her life than the ability to shift problems onto others.

The other kids returned a few hours later. The food had cooled down by then, but they didn't mind reheating it for themselves. Marco asked about my day and seemed pleased to hear that I was doing well. But it was just the first day, so it was too early to talk about future success.

In my free time, I tried to practice throwing punches. Of course, an eight-year-old child is unlikely to seriously hurt someone, but the process itself is important. I won't always be a little kid, and eventually, I'll grow up.

Kivi initially tried to make snide comments about my efforts but eventually gave up and ignored me. In my past life, I had some experience in martial arts. I didn't train for prizes or medals, but to be able to stand up for myself. Perhaps it was because I made this decision at a relatively mature age. I was sixteen when I decided to learn how to fight, after being bullied quite badly.

I had to make a tough decision to learn to fight. I have never regretted that decision, even though it was quite embarrassing at first. At that time, I was very self-conscious, but my trainer instilled in me a simple thought: "Don't live by others' opinions." This advice proved to be very helpful in many aspects of my life. Unfortunately, I can't recall his face or name, but I have retained a memory of the impression he made on me.

"What are you doing?" Shiro stood to the side, watching my slow repetition of monotonous movements.

"Learning to fight," I replied, not taking my eyes off my task.

"You've been at it for quite a while, aren't you tired?" he asked.

"Just a few more minutes, and I'll be done."

My training session lasted a bit over an hour. At the end of it, I realized what might have puzzled my friend. Time... I couldn't remember being able to keep up such an energy-intensive activity for so long at the age of eight. If I think about it, I didn't really take breaks, except for minute-long pauses between sets. It was indeed odd. Susan's words about my supposed mutation that altered my body came to mind. Could it be that these changes I was observing were the result of those mutations? My father had been working on some kind of serum, but he rarely talked about his work, even at home.

"Will you teach us how to fight?" Han and Shiro approached me after I finally wiped off my sweat.

"Why do you even think I'm not just messing around and can actually teach you anything? You'd better ask Marco about this. He's been living on the streets for a long time and definitely has a few tricks up his sleeve." Honestly, I didn't feel like teaching the little ones. I simply didn't have the experience in mentoring, and there was a good chance my advice might do more harm than good.

"You don't seem like someone who's just trying to kill time," the boys stated almost in unison.

"Hey, Amigo, I'm flattered you think so highly of me, but nobody ever taught me how to fight. It doesn't take much brains to sock someone in the eye," Marco snorted, slightly embarrassed by the mild praise. Strangely, he too didn't seem to view my exercises as mere pastime. I even tried to understand the reason for such behavior but had to admit that I didn't know.

"Suppose I agree, but do you really want to engage in monotonous activities? It might take months just to learn how to punch correctly, let alone actually hitting an opponent." I folded my arms across my chest, looking intently at the quiet boys.

"Who taught you how to fight?" the Latino boy asked curiously.

"My father... He taught me a lot of things," I shrugged, feeding the kids another lie. I really didn't want to lie to them so often, but I had no other choice at the moment. "Alright, but we'll practice in the evening," I agreed, looking into the boys' puppy-dog eyes. "I'll try to teach you something. We'll need to find something like a punching bag or a dummy to practice strikes. Marco, do you know where we can get one?"

"We could ask Old Man Li. He used to practice martial arts but gave it up due to his age," Marco thoughtfully nodded.

We agreed that the next day Marco and I would go to Old Man Pan and ask him for the things we needed. If the Chinese man really had been involved in martial arts, he would likely be able to dig up something necessary. The next day, Marco led me to another spot in the neighboring housing complex. There, groups of children loitered, sniffing around suspiciously at us. They didn't rush to approach us, probably because Marco was quite big for them. Inga, Han, and Shiro were working at the flea market. Marco wanted to show me other areas, so we swapped. I have to admit, I didn't like what I saw. It's disheartening when people stare at you with a clear wish for you to disappear.

We didn't find much junk, but to our delight, what we found seemed valuable. There were rare components that were highly valued. The day started on a good note, and I liked that…