"Get back here you little brat!"

Instead of slowing as the voice commanded him, the young boy tucked his head closer to his chest as a poorly aimed rock sailed several inches to his left and clattered harmlessly to the pavement. He could hear the angry sound of shouts follow behind his escape but his keen ears also noted a distinct lack of the sound of following footsteps.

Even though his breathing came in ragged breaths that rattled his chest, he didn't allow himself the luxury of slowing until he had run for what he judged to be a good five minutes. He fell in step with the crowd around him and tried his best to appear inconspicuous. It wasn't hard to fit in; all he had to do was look at the ground and shuffle his feet like all the other despondent souls packed around him. Even though he knew there was the possibility it would single him out from the crowd, he couldn't help but glance back once or twice to make sure no one was following him. It seemed like so far his luck was holding out.

But as his eyes swept the crowd, he also picked up on the disturbing fact that the number of men walking around in green, cleanly pressed uniforms was clearly increasing. He calculated that he would have to move his operations elsewhere if he didn't want to get caught.

After one more cautionary glance, the young boy gave a sigh of relief as he slightly loosened the iron grip he had on the prize currently clutched to his chest. He looked down with a satisfied smile as he broke away from the crowd and headed down one of the many alleys that branched off the main road.

The boy counted the cobbles on the street to himself as his footsteps echoed harshly against the close walls. He had just reached one hundred and twenty three when he stopped and turned to look at a particularly dilapidated building. The only thing that set it apart from the other closely crammed houses around it was the fact that it was more run down and it had been abandoned for years.

At least that's what most people tended to believe.

But if anyone took the time to carefully examine the building, they might have noticed the tattered rags serving as curtains or the makeshift doors placed over several open areas. As it were, everyone was far too busy staring at their feet and shuffling through their lives to be concerned with the residents of one dilapidated building.

None of these thoughts passed through the young boy's mind as he approached the building. He had come to this building enough that he no longer even noticed its ruined state. He knew it to be safe even if it didn't look like it. He approached one of the doors boldly and, carefully cradling his prize in the crook of his free arm, gave a few rapid knocks on the soft plywood.

He heard the distinctive sound of shuffling and a hushed voice behind the door. The sounds died down for a second before the door flung open to usher the boy into the building. He took a single step into the room before he was nearly knocked down by a force crashing into him.

"Oliver! You're back!" A small figure yelled as he clung to the boy's leg.

The young boy, Oliver, gave a bemused shake of his head before he gently pried the younger boy from his leg. He intentionally moved his prize behind his back as he looked down at the short boy who was now looking confusedly up at him. Oliver tried his best to maintained what he hoped was an intimidating manner.

"Yes it's me this time, but you forgot to ask for the password again Ryuto. What if it had been someone else? You know the Child Sweepers are always looking for more victims."

The Child Sweepers; an organization of people that had quickly become the subject of bed time stories told to children to make them behave. The stories said that if they found a child walking by themself, they would spirit them away never to be seen again. Rumors raged about what happened to the children, but part of the most terrifying facts about the group was that no one knew the truth. It was a common tale, and terror, shared among the children that lived on the street.

At the mention of the group, Ryuto's face turned a deathly pale pallor as he realized for the first time the mistake he had made. His lips moved but no sounds escaped his terror stricken mind. He looked about ready to burst into tears; he knew that forgetting to ask for the password could spell disaster for him and Oliver had warned him that if he continued to forget there would be decided repercussions. Ryuto had no idea how exactly Oliver was going to punish him, but he wasn't looking forward to it.

Oliver gave one more shake of his head before he lightly ruffled Ryuto's hair. Ryuto flinched at the initial touch, but once he realized he wasn't in trouble, he looked up wonderingly at Oliver.

"Just make sure you remember from now on. If the Child Sweepers pick you up, I'm not sure I'll be able to help you." Ryuto responded by giving several furious bobs of his head to demonstrate his understanding but he still had a look of mild terror on his face.

"Relax. Nothing happened this time; as long as you remember for next time we'll be fine. Besides," Oliver said as he allowed a smile to settle on his lips, "Today's too good a day to be angry."

With those words, Oliver produced his prize from behind his back. When he saw what the older boy was carrying, all traces of fear melted from Ryuto's face to be replaced with thinly veiled, ecstatic joy.

"Oh wow! Is that all really for us?" He said excitedly as he inched his hands towards what Oliver was carrying.

"Yes it's for us but you're not allowed to take any until Yuki gets here."

"What do you mean? She's been holding on to your arm the whole time," Ryuto responded with a vague gesture towards the general direction of Oliver's arm as his eyes remained on what Oliver held in his hand.

Oliver noticed for the first time the slight pressure on his lower arm and the presence of the young girl clinging tightly to his arm. When he looked over at her, she lifted her eyes for a moment to acknowledge her name before she resumed staring at the prize in Oliver's hand. Although she wasn't inching closer and closer like Ryuto was, her eyes shown with just as much excitement.

"Since everyone's here, I don't see why we shouldn't start," Oliver said as he handed the prize off to Ryuto who took it greedily into his small hands with a glowing smile. He tore off a piece before he handed it off to Yuki who took it just as excitedly and also tore off a piece of her own. The item was the returned to Oliver who couldn't help but look at it and frown deeply.

It sickened him that it was considered such a luxury to have a single loaf of bread.

"Are you gonna eat that Oliver?" Ryuto managed between mouthfuls of crusty bread. Oliver was pulled from the musings by the sound of the young boy's voice. He gave a wry smile and broke off another chunk of the loaf for both Ryuto and Yuki. The younger kids took the bread in their hands and ate as quickly as their bodies would allow.

Oliver evaluated them as he absentmindedly munched on his own chunk of bread. Both the children were skinny to the point that it was unhealthy. The boy, Ryuto, had extremely light blonde hair that, if the light caught it just right, seemed to almost be a vague tint of green. Yuki had dark black hair that was pulled back into two ponytails by baubles that she never took out. It was something from her past life, before she lived on the street, that she refused to give up.

That means at some point she had someone that would buy her presents… Oliver ponded between bites of his bread.

"Hey Oliver," Ryuto's voice broke into Oliver's thoughts, "Do you have any more?"

Oliver looked at the young boy who was looking hopefully up at him. Oliver felt a stab of guilt run through him but he pushed it away and gave a small smile.

"Of course there's more, I just have to go and get some from the secret storeroom."

A lie; a lie he had told to the young boy many times.

"Okay!" The boy said as his face lit up once more, "If you can, you should try to bring back some of those apples you brought last time! They were so good and-"

Oliver mind was pulled from Ryuto's happy ramblings by the feeling of a tugging on his shirt. When he turned to look at the source, he found Yuki still clinging tightly to his shirt and looking up at him.

Her intelligent brown eyes informed him that she didn't believe him for a second.

She knew there was no secret storeroom.

There was only stealing.

Even though he knew Yuki was aware of the truth, Oliver tried his best to downplay the truth of what he was doing. Both he and Yuki knew they needed to steal to live even if the little girl was far less comfortable with this truth than Oliver was.

"You're hungry too, aren't you Yuki?"

The girl responded with a vehement shake of her head, but the rumblings of her stomach betrayed her true feelings. She looked down almost as if ashamed of her hunger. Oliver tried his best to comfort her as he placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Don't worry Yuki; someday when I'm older I'll repay everyone for everything I stole. But until then we need some food."

It was a line he had said to the young girl many times before in an attempt to comfort her.

Sometimes if he said it enough he believed it himself.

Like always, the girl gave a resigned nod of her head as she reluctantly released Oliver's sleeve. With Yuki's discomforts as allayed as they were going to be, Oliver gave a wave of his hand and headed out the door.

"Don't forget to ask for the password!" He yelled over his shoulder as he broke into a soft jog and began to plan his strategy for how to obtain food.

Well I can't go back to the main street, that baker woman warned everyone about me with that screaming of hers. Plus, there were tons of soldiers around there…so where exactly can I go? I can't come back empty handed…

As Oliver continued to ponder his current predicament, he allowed his feet to carry him wherever they wished. When he actually lifted his eyes to look at the world around him, he felt his eyes settle on a building not far away.

It was a small, dimly lit church.

He felt the corner of his mouth lift into a smile as he decided this would be his target for the night. The church types were always overly trusting; they would never suspect one, lone child with fair hair and golden eyes to be any sort of danger. Without a second thought, he began to whistle a tuneless song as he walked his way leisurely towards the building.

The perfect target, He thought happily as he approached the large oak doors. Instead of entering the front door, he furtively ducked around the corner and absentmindedly ran his hand along the wall. He turned his eyes toward the sky to see that the sun was quickly setting and soon all would be dark. If he was going to get in the church, this was the perfect time.

As he tested the first window, he found to his disappointment that it was firmly locked and there was no way for him to pry it open. With a slight tut of disappointment, he continued on to the next window. He found this window in the exact same state as the first one. His optimism waning, he figured he could at least walk around the perimeter of the building and see what he could see. He rounded the corner so that he was now standing by the back of the building. What he saw there brought back his initial optimism.

A window was standing open.

Quickly running to the window, Oliver paused for a moment to listen for the sound of voices. He found to his mounting hopefulness that all was quiet in the room. He looked quickly about him to ensure that the street was deserted before he hoisted himself into the room.

He landed with a soft thud on a wood floor in a crouch, ready to move if need be. But he found that he was alone in a room that appeared to be a changing room of sorts. There were clothes splayed everywhere about the room, some hung neatly on the backs of chairs, others hanging on hangers and still other crumpled in small heaps on the floor.

Oliver looked down at his shirt that was three sizes too big and his pants that had been worn almost threadbare.

It was getting close to winter…

Oliver vehemently shook the idea from his mind as he walked towards the door and did his best to not let his eyes wander to the clothing in the room. He had come here to get food and that's exactly what he was going to do.

Convinced that the hallway was empty, Oliver crept down the corridor towards the back of the building. Having infiltrated many different kinds of buildings, he knew that businesses, churches and even homes tended to have their kitchens situated near the back. His nose informed him that his suspicions weren't unfounded as he rounded a corner and was met with the warm smell of things cooking.

Unfortunately for him, the sound of conversation also floated down the hall.

He crept down the hall and peeked into the doorway where the voices were coming from. He felt his heart drop slightly in his chest. In the room stood two women who were busily chatting as they cooked.

Oliver had to make a split decision. He couldn't stay in the hallway for long; he didn't know how long he would have until someone rounded the corner and spotted him. His options were either to head back the way he had come or risk being caught by the two women in an attempt to get food.

He knew instantly what he had to do.

On silent feet he slipped into the kitchen and behind one of the cabinets. As he evaluated his surroundings, looking for the easiest way to pick up food and get out, he subconsciously listened to the exchange between the two women in the kitchen.

"…All those little boys, so well behaved! Now if only my son was like that!"

"Oh their well-behaved alright, but boys all the same. Have you seen that changing room? They left all their clothes thrown everywhere! They may be young professionals, but they're still just ten year old boys."

At the mention of boys his own age, Oliver couldn't help but feel his curiosity piqued. He looked over to where the women were chatting. 'Young professionals' that were his age? What exactly were these women talking about?

"Well I suppose we can excuse them for a little bit of messiness," the stockier of the two women said as she turned to her companion, "I mean, have you heard their voices? They sound like little angels!"

"Why did you get to listen to them?"

"I just heard them practicing earlier today," The woman responded with what seemed to be pride.

"Well I don't think it's very fair that you get to listen to them and I don't! Aren't they performing right now? I don't see why we should be back in the kitchens while everyone else gets to listen to them performing!" The other woman responded.

"The stew can probably mind itself for a few minutes," The stocky woman mumbled almost as if to herself.

"And the roast doesn't need to be tended to for another few minutes," The other woman volunteered.

Just one lucky stroke after another today, Oliver thought from his hiding place as he watched and silently hoped the women would carry out their plan.

"I don't see why we should be the only ones not to hear them sing! After all, we are the ones cooking their meal for them! We'll listen to one song and then come back and take care of the stew and roast."

"Good, but let's make it quick so the priest doesn't find out."

Oliver ducked back around his cabinet as he listened to the sound of the two women exiting the kitchen. He silently counted to ten before he appeared from his hiding place and began to look frantically about the kitchen. He had no idea how much time he had until the women came back, but he didn't want to risk being caught; he had to be quick.

Not wasting any time, Oliver opened the cabinet he had been hiding behind. He felt his breath escape in wonder.

The cabinet was brimming with all different kinds of food. Fresh fruits that seemed to glow in the dim light of the kitchen were situated next to wheels of cheese stacked into precarious towers. Vegetables he couldn't even begin to fathom the name of were nestled in baskets on the floor.

For a moment, all Oliver could do was stare in wonder at the vast medley of food contained in the inconspicuous cabinet. It almost seemed like a fevered dream to see so much food in once place. But as he continued to stare at the food and the wonder wore off, Oliver was left with only one emotion; anger.

Yuki and Ryuto were starving in the street and a church, which was supposed to help the people, was hoarding food for their own purposes. Any semblance of guilt Oliver had about stealing from a church quickly melted away. As he picked up an empty basket and began to gather anything he could get his hands on, he felt nothing but justification.

If the church didn't want to help the people of its own free will, then Oliver was going to claim what was rightfully his.

After filling his basket close to brimming, Oliver ran back to the door and made sure no one was about. Moving as swiftly and silently as possible, he retraced his steps until he was in the same room he had entered through. Carefully cradling the basket under his arm, he headed towards the window and had every intention of leaving and never coming back.

That was until out of the corner of his eye he spotted an outfit hanging in the closet.

It was a long blue jacket with gold trimmings that seemed to be for a young boy about Oliver's age. Hanging not far off, there was a hat which appeared to match with the jacket. For reasons he couldn't quite explain, Oliver felt compelled to look at the jacket closer. It had been so long since he had new clothing and this was just hanging there, ripe for the taking. When he reached out and touched the soft fabric, he knew that he had to have the jacket.

He worked furiously to un-button the jacket but he had barely undone two buttons before he heard the distinctive sound of young voices and footsteps. Oliver cursed under his breath as he abandoned his attempt to obtain the jacket. He quickly scooped up his basket and in one swift motion headed out the window.

As soon as his feet hit the pavement, he took off running. He knew if any of the soldiers in the area saw a child carrying a basket this late at night, there would be questions he wouldn't be able to answer. He silently thanked the sky that it was dark, making his escape much easier.

Yet despite his reasoning that he had to get out of there as quickly as possible, he couldn't help but look back at the church and think about the unused jacket that was still hanging neatly and uselessly. Even as his footsteps carried him further away, his thoughts remained on the church.

He knew he was going to come back to claim the jacket as his own.

A/N: I am very aware that Oliver's official age is 12. All will be made clear in later chapters.