There's this kid, down in the Underground. He's young, but he's capable, and he has this spark in his eyes that whispers passion, speaks of intelligence and screams danger.

No one knows his name.

He salvages supplies from dumpsters, and somehow, with those calloused, fidgety fingers of his, creates killing machines. They wipe out the prelims, and money piles up in his pockets.

One day, he makes his way past the swept-clean streets and manicured lawns and spick-and-span storefronts and slips through narrow cracks in the wall that only he knows, into the dark alleyways that have become his home.

He's gonna win this fight. He knows this already. But the thing is, he needs the money. He can't afford to let his guard down.

He is silent as a shadow, slipping unnoticed under arms, between audience members, underfoot towards the dim lighting that illuminates the people between him and his soon-to-be opponents. Then, he sees it; the arena.

Adrenaline pumps through his body, and he's suddenly hyperaware of everything around him, skin tingling. This is his home court. This is where he belongs.

A roar of laughter brings him back to the present; the heavyset man sitting at the head of the battle ring holds a stack of money in his flabby hand. Somehow, his menacing robot seems to laugh with him as the defeated challenger scrambles away, head down, broken bot clutched to his chest.

This is his opponent. This is where he'll cinch the real jackpot.

"Anyone else have the guts to step into the ring?" The man roars again, thumping his chest with his victorious bot held up high. "With little Yama?!"

"I'll try," the boy says.

The arena falls dead silent.

The boy's back is hunched as he curls into himself, shy and protective of his tiny bot, looking terrified and as if he wishes he'd never spoken up. The hush dissipates, and the man's chest shakes as he doubles over with uncontrollable mirth. The audience roars with him.

"What's your name, boy?" The champion bellows.

"Hiro." The boy almost whispers it. "Just Hiro."

They know his name now. His real name. Hiro. It's been forever since he used it.

"Well, Zero," the man sneers, "prepare to be annihilated!"

The crowd cheers with him, and the boy has to withhold laughter of his own. Oh, they've fallen for it, hook, line and sinker. The smaller bot-fighting groups know his tricks already, but these guys know nothing about him. He's honed his acting skills over the years. Underestimation is his greatest asset.

The first time, he lets himself be defeated easily, the pieces of his broken bot littering the floor. The crowd cheers, jeers and laughs, and the boy paints a crestfallen look upon his face. "But—but—that was my first try! Can I go again?"

The champion looks at him almost pityingly. "No one wins against Yama."

No one talks in third person in the twenty first century, either. Dimwit. "But—"

"No one likes a sore loser, little boy. Go home." Yama says these words with finality, malicious eyes boring into his.

"But I've got more money."

Yama's head whips around, and he knows he's hit the jackpot; people like Yama can't resist the promise of extra bucks.

Their money's in the center, swept away into a rusted plate. The countdown until the round starts begins and ends, and the boy falls into a state where time slows, he is in control, and he is at his deadliest.

(Yama never stood a chance.)

There's something he hasn't factored, though, and he'll regret it later. Yama's fanclub is vengeful, and when Yama screams "No one messes with Little Yama!" they're on him like a pack of piranhas. If piranhas moved in mobs at bot fights, that is.

Thankfully, he's fast. He takes the money, stuffs it in his hoodie pockets, and is out before they even realize he's gone. Footsteps behind him thunder across the old concrete, and he climbs out a storm drain, clambering onto old asphalt. Funny. He doesn't recall coming this way before.

He whips his head around. They're gaining on him fast, and he's walled in on three sides. Slick walls, so he can't climb up either. Dead end.

Oh. That's why.

. . .Shit.

He pounds his fist into the wall, muttering violent profanity. At least Megabot is with him. The boy takes up the remote control, and Megabot's stance abruptly changes, ready for battle.

It's no use. There are too many of them. He's got no place to go, and a scrawny kid like him stands no chance against the fists of grown men.

His savior comes in the form of a biker.

"Get on!" A young man yells. Not a biker, the boy realizes, because this guy's satchel and cap are marked with the SFIT university logo. Besides, he looks way too goody-goody for that.

For a moment, he contemplates running. But he's knee deep in a shitload of trouble, and this guy might just be his ticket to surviving another day. So the boy swings his legs over the seat, and the bike zooms off, skillfully swerving to the side and sailing into the air on the peak of a ramp.

"Are you crazy?" The guy yells. "They could've killed you! What's a kid like you doing out here this late at night? It's not safe back here!"

He doesn't know how to answer that, so he remains silent. Maybe he can jump off somewhere, but the bike's going too fast. No, wait—it's slowing down. The boy tenses, and without warning he jumps, sailing into the air for a glorious moment as time seems to slow before speeding up again. His feet hit the sidewalk with a painful crack and he's off running, the adrenaline washing away the pain in his now throbbing feet.

"Hey, kid! Wait! Are you crazy? Hey—come back!"

Suddenly the boy is cut off; the not-biker executes a perfect U-turn, swerving around to block his path.

Oh, no. He's got nowhere to run, so he just kind of stands there, frozen in fear and uncertainty and shock, a deer in headlights. Literally.

The not-biker freezes suddenly, and his eyes narrow. "Wait. Were you bot fighting? His eyes widen, and fill with amazement. "That's actually a pretty cool bot! Did you make that yourself—?"

The boy runs for it.

Straight into a police car.

Thankfully, he's uninjured.

Unfortunately, he's now sitting in a juvenile prison cell.

They took Megabot from him an hour ago. There's nothing to do but wait. But for what? He doesn't know that either.

So he sits in the dusty corner, waiting for his nonexistant parents to turn up. By now, he's practically hyperventilating. This isn't something he can worm his way out of through a few witty words. His fate lies in the hands of the police, and policemen aren't exactly kind to homeless, bot-fighting delinquents.

The other guy, the one who rescued him, is in the cell across from him. An hour or so ago, he'd been glaring at the boy venomously. Which was understandable, considering it's technically his fault for getting him into this situation. But his glare has faded, and he now eyes the boy with something akin to worry. I don't need your pity, the boy tries to convey, but he doesn't think the not-biker gets the message.

So the boy stares at the ground, wondering what will happen to him, mindless words of comfort flitting through his mind.

The kid, Tadashi decides, is not a bad person.

Just afraid, he thinks. Delinquent he may be, but the kid is pretty smart. He knows how to build a bot, that's for sure. Maybe he could go to SFIT later on in life.

Seeing the boy trembling, wide-eyed in the other cell, glaring at him, reminds him of the trapped animals in the San Fransokyo Zoo. It hasn't taken much brainpower for Tadashi to deduce that this boy has nowhere to go.

So when Aunt Cass arrives, with her fierce motherly scolding and glazed donuts in tow, Tadashi makes a decision.

An hour before midnight, a policeman comes to unlock the boy's cell door.

The boy is visibly surprised, but he doesn't speak. He silently follows the officer out, wondering where they are headed.

The guy who rescued him and another, older woman wait at the reception desk. "Little bro! There you are!" The guy says excitedly. The other woman seems a little disoriented, but she nods along with him.

The boy has no idea what's going on, but he's smart enough to play along. "Hi," he mutters, shuffling over to stand beside them.

The guy pulls him to the side. "What's your name, kid?" He whispers.

The boy blinks up at him blankly. "What?"

"Your name." The guy gives this kind smile that compliments his brown eyes wonderfully. "I'm Tadashi. What's your name?"

"Hiro." The boy whispers.

Pure, unfiltered shock and disbelief flit across Tadashi's face before he regains his composure. "It's nice to meet you, Hiro. Stay calm and play along. We'll get you out of here. Do you have any family members?"

He did, once upon a time. But that was a long time ago. Too long ago. "No."

"Okay." Tadashi takes a deep breath. "Okay. You'll be staying with us from now on. Is that okay with you?"

The boy can't believe they're actually asking his permission to do this. These people are way too good for him. "Yeah."

"Okay." Tadashi's expression suddenly lightens. "Your bot looked pretty good. Did you make that yourself?"

"Yeah." There's a sparkle in Hiro's eyes now. "They took it, though."

"Don't worry. We got it back. You have to promise not to go to underground bot fights, though."

Asking him not to go is like asking him to never breathe again. "Yeah," he forces out. It's not like he's completely out of options. He can always run away again if he has to. Why is he agreeing to this, again?

Tadashi sees the look on his face. "There are legal bot-fights, you know."

Yeah, but those ones don't even begin to compare. "I know."

"I go to SFIT. I have access to a lot of tech there. You can check out my lab sometime, if you want. I'm building a pretty cool robot."

Hiro can't keep the childish excitement out of his voice. "Really?"

"Yeah!" Tadashi looks excited too. The other woman comes over, and Tadashi discreetly whispers something to her before she jots something down on a piece of paper. The movement does not go unnoticed by Hiro, but he chooses not to acknowledge it.

After a few minutes the woman returns from the reception desk, and all three of them leave together. The car ride is silent.

"From now on," the woman says cheerfully, a clear attempt to break the silence, "you will be Hiro Hamada. I'm Cass Hamada."

"Nice to meet you, Cass," Hiro says, trying his best to return the smile.

"That's Aunt Cass to you." Cass grins. "You'll be rooming with Tadashi until we can set you up with a school system. He doesn't bite, I promise."

Tadashi laughs, and after a moment Hiro does too. He's never met such kind people before. Hiro can't remember the last time he laughed like this.

He could get used to this.

A/N: Did you see the cover art? Mwahaha. I'm so cruel.

I've had this for a while, but never got the chance to post it. I'm having some writer's block for the second upcoming chapter, but hopefully that'll clear up soon.

Constructive criticism is great! Hit me with your best shot.