Vallorine, as her name suggests, was a Northerner in her previous life. Though she had visited the South on the very few occasions she was required to by the Guild, she had never visited this particular City and knew, therefore, the whereabouts of no one whom she could ask for help. Nor did she possess more than a passing grasp of the Southern tongue. Her diction was even simpler than the child whose age she looked. But, being too weak to run, to cast even the most basic versions of spells, she possessed now most dearly the handful of words she remembered from her previous life. And she had to rely entirely on what she could do with them to survive.

Still, she had managed to survive, partly by luck that things had turned out the way they had, that the right Company had happened to pass along when she was nearing exhaustion, that Mope, in her distress, happened to be interested in change. But partly, she had made her own luck. She had observed the rules of the streets from the shadows, conserving her energy. She had allowed many Companies to pass before she settled on Mope's, not because Mope's was the strongest or the most desperate for an intern, but because of all the leaders in the streets she was the most trusting. Mope was most likely to be cheated by one of the Production Companies. Mope was also the most likely to lend an ear to a stranger's idea. In another life, this indestructible trust in others would have rather been a quality of strength, lending her a charisma that (even as it did now) would help her to win the hearts of followers -- followers who remained loyal even when her judgment proved not so good. But on the streets, in the slums, it was equivalent to stupidity.

Now she had Vallorine to take advice from. But this was not so straightforward either. So as not to lose face in front of her followers she would whack Vallorine on the forehead after every piece of new advice, as though admonishing her for another ignorant statement. Of course, Vallorine could see that, in reality, Mope was carefully weighing everything she said, that her words were being absorbed, that even some of the older and more perspicacious among the children were listening to her, being able to see through the little -- but necessary -- routine. And this -- feeling the effect of her words, humble as they were -- satisfied Vallorine enough to bear the little scene they were obliged to play out. She knew from her previous life that a word placed at the right moment would let one enter doors that no amount of walking, hard work, or determination would allow one otherwise to pass. "No matter how much one knocks one's forehead against the wall," as the folk-saying goes, "the wall won't open." And Vallorine's forehead, sore as it was, was not being employed to knock something open, but knocked upon by the effect of her own words...

The rest of the children resented her because she was weak and yet oddly confident in spite of her weakness. Her calm lucid gaze made them uncomfortable. They didn't understand why Mope took an interest in her. They liked still less the fact that they had to carry her, bouncing above their shoulders on a little sedan they'd fashioned from rags and empty sacks, because she had used the last of her energy to get to the Church.

Nonetheless, she was now a member of their group. And it was nestled amid the rest of the children, who were too little or too sick to participate in the "First Sprint" of their project, that she watched Mope carry out her plan.

Vallorine had been particular in the 'Big' they selected. If it had been Mope making the judgment, they would have picked the strongest of the older kids to take down, thinking that this would bring them more respect in the eyes of the others, and give them the greatest shield. Vallorine knew that the stronger the kid was, the more humiliated they would become, and the more likely they would seek to avenge their honor. Who they needed was someone they could use.

The kid she picked in the end was one she'd been watching since the first day. Though he was big, he was not friendly with any of the members of his company, which was important. This meant that he wouldn't have others to turn to, others to fight for him. It also made him more amenable to their proposal.

Because he had a stutter and had little to say, he was generally passed over by his co-workers. From what Vallorine had seen, promotion in the Production Companies came more from chumminess and appearance of merit than from actual merit. The wooden hair-clip he wore, sweeping the bangs on the right half of his face to the side, signified that his rank was no higher than entry-level, which meant that he was getting less than he deserved.

They watched Mope approach the Big. First annoyed, then growing more and more incensed. Finally, he pocketed the meal he was eating and stood up. He still had not committed to engaging her. For now, he was trying to scare her off, intimidate her... But Mope, out of a lack of self-preservation, or out of trust for Vallorine's plan, became still more overweening, and did not stop saying to him what they had rehearsed.

"It's working." (thought Vallorine)

The Big was known for being cool-headed and controlled. But she had hit on his weak spot.

Mope would be telling him he was the weakest in his Company; that no one understood why they had taken him in; that despite his size he was really as weak as a child; that he was liable at any moment to be fired; that contractors were already preparing their applications for the looming vacancy; and that this was what the word on the street revealed to her, what the young populace were saying...

With each development, Vallorine felt the bodies packed around her pack still closer together and fidget in anticipation.

He had backed her against the wall. His hesitation from before was gone, and he was focused only on cutting off her route of escape. If this were a normal day, Mope would have suffered at least a broken rib or two, if not her life. But, as it was, she was already victorious. He did not notice the children sneaking up behind him before it was too late.

The tiniest in their enterprise. Hunched over like large hamsters, the round masses of children barely reached his knee. At the signal, they wrapped their little bodies over his legs. Four in total, two for each leg. A breath was enough to topple him over, though Mope preferred a headbutt.

At this, Vallorine felt the children around her rise like the crest of a wave. Still too weak from hunger to walk, Vallorine had placed herself in the center of the group so that their closely-pressed bodies would prop her up. And it was so, that when all of them flooded forwards, she was swept along as well, and deposited a few feet away from the scene, like a piece of flotsam on the edge of a shore.

The children who had hidden away before now came out. They formed a line from the site where they'd stowed a pile of rocks to the site where the Big had fallen. One by one, the rocks were passed along to a pair of kids, standing on either side of Mope, who dropped the payloads onto the Big's torso...

"Yoshi!" (the one on the left, dropping a rock on his sternum)

"Yoshi!" (the one on the right, dropping a rock on his shoulder)

"Yoshi!" (the one on the left, dropping a rock on his left temple)

"Yoshi!" (the one on the right, dropping a rock on the center of his chest)

"Stop now! Don't kill him just yet. He might still be useful... Struggle more and the aches will continue. Don't you know what mask you're in?" (Mope)

At her word the children stopped dropping the rocks. The Big stopped writhing, his face contorted.

Mope began the next phase of their plan.

Boro was his name. Boro knew better than to struggle. Despite the pain of his humiliation, he saw the situation he was in. Furthermore, he knew a good idea when he heard it. The older kids were so used to getting their way they would not expect Mope's gang of children to pose any threat. And he saw first-hand how they could be effective. Moreover -- and this sealed his decision -- he longed passionately to revenge himself on his old Company, his old commanders...

Something changed in his eyes. It was an expression that reminded Vallorine of someone she used to know...but she couldn't recall who immediately. Only it gave her a sense of fear.

It was too late for second thoughts, however: Mope knelt and took his hand. In her other hand she raised a small chipped knife. With the weapon poised above him, and without speaking, she stared at him intensely, until his cold eyes changed to a bright ones, and the symbol of the knife changed from a threat poised at his throat to a gift of allied strength.

He raised an arm out to Mope, who ceremoniously cut the top of his hand and held it in her own.

The children unwrapped themselves from his legs, and, in the same motion, rolled a few feet away. Boro stood up to his full height, easily a head over their CEO.

Hidden among the children, Vallorine watched him closely. It was a mistake of Mope's to put her hand over his in the ceremony, which signified her to be the higher in rank. He was already irritable because he was passed over for promotion in his current Company. Now, to be beneath even a younger girl like Mope...

But instead, he broke into a warm smile.

"We work together now." (Boro)