To a stranger, the unending rows of dreary apartment buildings and abandoned factories in Natural Society were a maze. But Zhen knew the streets and alleyways like the back of his hand.

Navigating the small dirty roads, he wondered whether he would ever leave this godforsaken place. He dreamed of a life in Engineered Society, where only people who were biologically engineered at birth, could live. Then again, everyone in Natural had the same dream. Even the street urchin in front of him now.

“Please spare me some change, mister,” the thin, dirty girl begged as she tugged on Zhen’s sleeves.

He pushed past her, his assistant following quickly behind. It wasn’t that he had no sympathy; the cruel fact of the world was that if he gave her something, other urchins would flock to him and he couldn’t help everyone. He understood far too well how begging worked.

Being abandoned in Natural himself, a street oaf had picked him up and used him as a way to attract more pity from passersby in order to get alms. When Zhen grew older, the oaf taught him enough to write words in the dirt to gain more sympathizers.

Zhen eyed the beggar girl as he walked past. By his estimate, she didn’t have much time left. He was probably around her age when the oaf left him in search for younger, cuter kids. A sharp, angular face coupled with narrow, distrustful eyes didn’t attract people to part with their money.

If this girl was lucky, she would learn to pickpocket just like him. Of course she would be caught red-handed and beaten to within an inch of her life. But if she was smart, she would pick up the street way of fighting - quick, accurate, and dirty.

“What did you whisper to that fighter in the ring just now, Zhen?” his assistant’s voice broke through his thoughts. “It worked so well that he got furious and messed up.”

Zhen regarded the young kid with a smirk. “I let slip that I would do a little something to the pretty lady he has his eye on.”

Mouth falling open, the boy stared at him in awe with sparkling eyes. “How did you know saying that would work?”

“Fighting is not just physical, kid.” Zhen lectured as they squeezed round a narrow corner. “You have to learn the psychological tricks, Pierre.”

Pierre’s shoulders drooped and he looked down at his feet. “I’ll never be able to beat you.”

“You won’t.” Zhen threw him a stern look. “That’s why I’ll teach you.”

Just like how he himself was taught. Granted, Zhen already had some amount of natural talent. By the time he was a young teen, he had gained quite a bit of reputation. But with reputation came challenges and danger.

At 18, a large group of boys had come to size him up. He put up a tough, relentless fight but the number of opponents soon overwhelmed him. Biting and clawing, he struggled to release himself from their hold, determined not to go down without a fight. As the rest of them pinned him to the ground, one of them wielded a brick and was about to bring it down onto his head when a gun shot rang out in the confines of the warehouse that they were in.

When he came to, he found herself in a neat and tidy bedroom, tucked under clean sheets. As it turned out, a young man in his early 30s had saved him and brought him home. Zhen had tried to escape but the man used the smallest amount of movement to induce the maximum pain in him, forcing Zhen to retreat back to his bed.

The mysterious man then carefully explained the circumstances that led to him finding Zhen in the warehouse. Apparently, Zhen’s reputation had spread far and wide, even to the people who participated and funded cage fights in Natural Society. He was curious about Zhen’s skills and had taken it upon himself to scout Zhen out. He had witnessed the manner in which Zhen warded off the group of guys and impressed by his raw talent, the man made the decision to take Zhen in as his student. He would coach Zhen to be a cage fighter and in return, the money that he won from fights would be divided equally between them. It was a fair deal, he reasoned, and the two of them would certainly benefit from this arrangement.

Zhen had eyed him suspiciously during his explanation and asked him one more question, ‘Why me, why now?’ He had hesitated for a moment but then answered Zhen calmly that he was no longer young enough to participate in cage fights and needed a successor. As for why he chose Zhen, he said that Zhen reminded him of himself when he was that age.

Zhen didn’t need much persuading. The training began soon after he recovered and once the man, now his mentor, was satisfied with his progress, Zhen entered cage fights – small ones at first, before moving on to the larger ones. They basked in their winnings, doing little things like picnics that made him feel like they were actually a normal father and son.

Two years of a somewhat normal and joyous life passed by before his mentor died due to sickness. Zhen was greatly affected by his death and fights turned into a gamble where he recklessly tossed his life away. But no matter how careless he was, how many mistakes he made in the cage, how bad his injuries were – he never died.

After a particular nerve-wrecking fight that he won by teeth and claw, Zhen exited the arena to be greeted by a torrent of rain. As the rain dripped down his face, he let himself cry for the first time in his life – letting his tears mingle with the rain as they poured endlessly from his eyes.

His legs were moving of their own accord and soon, he found himself standing in the usual corner of the street where he used to beg. In his place was a young boy, not more than 7 years of age, wearing the same look as Zhen – empty, defeated, purposeless.

He didn’t know how long he stood there just staring at the boy. Eventually, he walked towards the kid, stopped in front of him, and extended his hand. The boy looked up, brown eyes staring into his, and for a moment, Zhen saw his young self gazing back at him instead. Wordlessly, the boy took his hand and the two of them left the barren street filled with memories.

Zhen didn’t know what possessed him to take the boy into his house, feed, and clothe him. The boy didn’t speak much and Zhen learnt that he didn’t have a name. So he named the boy Pierre which meant ‘stone’, since his expression was quite stony.

It had been years now and even though Pierre was content being his assistant, Zhen wished he could give the boy a better life instead of teaching him to scrounge for a living. But that would take a miracle and miracles don’t happen in this world… do they?