Chapter 79

  ? Age Of Children ?

  It was another morning in the cold autumn in Portenzo City. Mornings after nights of gunfire came with lowered voices and wary steps, everyone watching the streets for what the night had left behind. Today had something new. The boots of the constables, wearing their usual proud blue coats, echoed harder than in earlier days in the slums. They marched in rows, boots stomping hard, making sure the whole street heard them.

  At the front, Toni led the march, unconvinced himself, yet carrying orders.

  His loud voice—the reason why he was part of the march with younger constables—rang.

  "Due to recent riots and unrest, by order of the authorities—no more gatherings are allowed with more than five people! In queues in front of bakeries, tailors, and all kinds of shops, it's absolutely forbidden to stand less than six feet apart!"

  Daniel, as recognizable as ever with the scar on his cheek, was part of the march. Only he wasn't looking for gatherings or people to take into custody. He was hoping to get a hint that the children were doing alright. Regret flickered across his face—the last time he’d seen Alex, and how badly it had ended.

  "Still feeling down the captain didn't take your suggestion, Dani boy?" Toni said, falling back a little to match Daniel's pace.

  “It wasn’t even my idea,” Daniel said. “A kid—an apprentice to a doctor—asked for names of families whose men we locked up, and those who took blows. He meant to tend to them. I thought why not assign a real one then.”

  "Kid's lying. Definitely up to something."

  "Not this one."

  “If you say so." Toni shrugged, "The Chief liked the thought of it, sure—but you know how it is. Sending a doctor into the ghettos sounds nice and all, but—”

  "I get it!" Daniel's voice rose. "It's weakness when we're trying to impose authority! Anything that actually helps people gets called weakness here!"

  “Not just that,” Toni said. “No doctor would come in here now. Too much danger. They’d also be taken for police pets and that’d ruin them.”

  Daniel stayed silent as the march pressed on. Around the corner, Toni’s voice rang out again, repeating the same announcement. Windows remained shut, doors stayed closed, streets empty. No greetings, no curious faces. But behind curtains, behind walls, people listened, tense and wary, hearts still echoing the night’s gunshots.

  Toni cleared his throat, making sure his voice was still there, then turned to Daniel again.

  “Don’t fret about the kid. You kept him safe by keeping quiet. If one of the lads catches him knocking on doors, they’ll make trouble. Can’t be roaming around as a doctor without a permit. Not to mention we're not the only ones he should watch out for.”

  Daniel swallowed.

  “Feels like hauling in the Dons’ men is more dangerous than letting them walk.”

  “The real dangerous ones are still out there,” Toni added, disgust and weariness in his voice. “The men we caught are street thugs. Good for shaking people down in daylight. Their real killers work at night and they’re still loose. Don’t mistake it, though. Hitting those thugs hurt the Marvianos. Took the weight off the streets. Daytime’s been calmer since the patrols.”

  Daniel finally looked at Toni, straight in the eyes, as if begging for the truth and the right answer.

  "Then how they are so relaxed in their cells? Laughing? Playing cards? As if they know they will leave at any moment."

  Toni didn't answer.

  Daniel carried on, voice low, wary of his own comrades in the march.

  "Chief Inspector Harry sent his family on a boat yesterday. What does that tell you?"

  "Tells me he is a smart man, Dani boy. Everyone knows what the Marvianos are capable of. In twenty years on the force, I’ve never seen a gang this organized. They can reach you anytime."

  Daniel didn't interrupt; he glanced every now and then, making sure he is not being eavesdropped by other coppers.

  Toni continued.

  "Soon as we don’t let those thugs go, they’ll hit back. The chief tried talking to the oldest Don, Emilio and it didn’t get us nowhere."

  Daniel nodded, lifting his head.

  "Chief inspector is bolder than expected. I hope he can stand up to them."

  His eyes suddenly had a burning determination, the kind that reminded him of his failures, and his oath that he would never be looked at as pathetic as the last time.

  "I will do my best too."

  Toni's focus on the other hand shifted. It reminded of a mystery that has been bothering him for a few days.

  "Today again. No child on sight. You could say their parents kept them in."

  "That might work if these were the upper quarters. But kids here should be out running errands, working, fetching food, pickpocketing."

  "And still… I get the feeling we’re being watched from the weirdest angles."

  Yes. They were.

  From the high rooftops, the chimney sweep kids glimmered across the city like hawks. Every building, every tile, every narrow ledge—they knew it all. The rooftops were theirs, claimed not by strength but by skill. And they knew how to watch without being seen.

  Antonio, their leader—blonde, soot-streaked, clothes and hair alike—stirred at last. Not at the chatter, but at the constables’ loud announcement. And most importantly, at the march itself.

  The kid, as young and small as the Wolves, moved like he’d done it a thousand times. Feet careful on the tiles, breath steady despite the height. He he reached his friend, a strikingly different boy, dark skin blending with the soot.

  "Bilal!" Antonio called the boy, "Let's warn the others."

  Bilal nodded, "Aye, sir! And we finished connecting the buildings between the Panthers gang street and the Wolves district too!"

  "Did you make sure the planks are steady enough?"

  "Only for us small ones. Funny how these cramped streets actually help us. The planks fit just right between the buildings." He readied himself. "I’ll head off, keep watch here, boss."

  And just like that, Bilal disappeared. He moved even faster than Antonio, not caring whether he slipped or not. He came across the planks of woods, among the dozens him and the chimney sweeps set up. It wasn't narrow, they made sure it's wide enough to handle even two of them. Only then, he slowed a bit, and moved with a sharp rhythm, testing his weight, balancing himself, yet not one bit afraid.

  The other sweeps moved, in all directions, carrying the same warning as Antonio gave his orders.

  Loose planks connecting the key buildings? Tested.

  Chimneys tight enough to hide a child? Memorized.

  Slippery edges and precarious drops? No one else dared, but they moved as if the heights themselves obeyed them.

  Each crossing, each risky shortcut, each vantage point—they owned it.

  Bilal finally reached a street. He analyzed the people in it. A few children gathered around a dumpster and abandoned crates, counting their coins. He recognized them.

  "Newsboys!"

  All the children raised their heads, then waved.

  "A march of coppers are on their way. No more gatherings than five!" Bilal called, grinning. "Or so they hope!"

  The newsboys laughed back.

  Bilal took a breath, glancing back toward where he’d come from. Antonio was now just a speck on the rooftops, but Bilal knew exactly where to look. The leader kept watch on the march and then pointed sharply to the far left. Bilal understood at once, glanced at the newsboys to make sure they saw him, and pointed in the same direction.

  The newsboys followed without any complaint, trusting in the tactic that kept them away from not only the coppers, but every shady man that looked like a threat.

  The other sweeps were notifying different groups, with Antonio as the heart of the network, signaling the direction of the march of the coppers without being noticed. The kids carried their errands peacefully.

  And they were not the only players.

  "James." One of the newsboys called. "Your orders?"

  James, ten years old, was no longer just a shy boy among two friends. Though still introverted and clumsy with words, he tried to sound confident in front of the newsboys gang.

  "Yes… um, like usual. Take your street, sell, and warn the kids. And, and don’t get near the march, alright?"

  They all nodded, and dispersed. Before they knew it, each one took his spot.

  James moved, newspapers clutched in his hands. He had a home now, he was heard in not just one, but a few meetings. Slowly, the newsboys sought him as the one who represents them.

  "Hey!" Another sweep called James from above. not Bilal—not Antonio—a different one. "Turn left, James! Some shady men dressed in black are coming your way!"

  James nodded, urgent, and switched directions.

  A whole two minutes passed, as he glanced back and forth between the sweep, still checking on him, and the direction that he was warned of.

  Two men, broad-shouldered, wearing black coats, passed. The same men that beat him the last time. James' heart jumped instinctively of fear, but now—now he wasn't alone.

  When they were out of sight, James lifted his head and waved with excitement at his buddy from the sweeps warning him. A thrill shot through them. Both were ten, and already slipping past grown men with tactics and plans. It was no big achievement. Both knew it. Two men passed. A kid hid. That was it. Yet, the feeling, the goosebumps of pulling this off more than once, never left them.

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  James stayed in his street, his eyes sharp and his ears focused on the next message.

  After a minute, he noticed curtains of a window he was watching out for, sliding. It was Luna, the mute little girl the Wolves had helped and Alex fed.

  James rushed to her, and he held up a finger.

  "One minute."

  Luna smiled and nodded aggressively.

  The newsboy leader left his spot quickly, and reached a narrow alley.

  "Panthers! Luna is up!"

  "On our way, Newsboy." Grub, the leader of the Panthers gang responded. "Up we go, guards!"

  The Panthers and James reached Luna’s window, all smiles, waving for her to come out. She leapt up, returning their greeting.

  Inside, her grandmother waved her off—an old woman who could barely walk, recently out of work, out of options, trusting the children watching over her granddaughter.

  “Off you go, dear. Be safe.”

  Luna snatched her basket of flowers and stormed out, her tiny footsteps bringing life to the street.

  The Panthers and James cheered, slapping high fives, ruffling heads, patting backs, thinking she was just another boy to mess with. The Panthers had no manners, but Luna, mute and fearless, didn’t mind.

  And so the escort began. Luna clutched her basket tightly as she made her way to the upper quarters, the calmest part of the city, where nobles slept in peace, untouched by the chaos. It was the only place she could sell her flowers, hoping for an aristocrat’s pity or a reward for her hard work to help support herself and her grandmother.

  But it was a long way, and she could get lost just like she did last time, almost ending up in the Red corner.

  Now? She was being escorted like a princess. The Panthers passed a district in the slums, then another gang took over, with the same wholesome and chaotic atmosphere. Street Forty-Nine, it was their territory. Then another.

  The gangs themselves split into groups to escort other small kids, each with their different errands.

  No child walks alone.

  Finally, Luna reached the upper quarters after a long hour. For a moment, she felt sad—the fun was over—but she knew it would come again on her way back. And so her day began, the boys’ teases and laughter still dancing in her head, along with all the little girls and boys who were part of something larger now.

  Back in the slums, the sweeps kept moving, rooftop to rooftop, chimney to chimney, crossing planks, warning each other of any threat, but they had their own tasks as well. Some would have to descend soon, the sun climbing high enough to expose them, to finish their work and avoid punishment from the masters below and, most importantly, they couldn’t cover everything.

  James moved through the street, newspapers clutched in hand, offering them to bystanders but too wary to sell anything outside the mob’s watch. Still, there was hope in his eyes, a quiet dignity in the careful way he worked.

  Then, a few taller boys appeared, grins wide, eyes fixed on him with malicious intent.

  James didn’t hesitate. He sprinted toward a safe spot, following the drill he’d learned well.

  "Hey, get back here! What's wrong with you?!" one called, already chasing.

  "Yes! Little one! We just want to talk and buy a journal!"

  James didn't listen. He knew that tone.

  Finally, he neared a street with an entrance to an old, abandoned subway station. Kids usually gave it a wide berth, but not today. James exhaled, relief washing over him. He knew he was close to safety… close to those who ruled this area.

  The elder boys finally caught up.

  "Nowhere to run, now?" one said, a satisfied grin on his face.

  But something was off. The area was full of kids, watching without interfering. They were a mix of the gangs, the smaller kids escorted—boys and girls, sweeps walking with their masters.

  Antonio, finally down in the street, was among the spectators. His master beside him, carrying a ladder and a bucket of water.

  "Master, can I have a minute?"

  "You wasted a lot of time in the cleanings this morning again. No."

  "I'll skip lunch."

  That made the master reconsider. With the shortage of food, it seemed like a good offer.

  "Fine."

  Antonio ran to the scene, joining the kids watching from all directions.

  Their eyes were focused, waiting—waiting for something.

  And it came—

  "Not exactly."

  A voice called from behind.

  Suddenly, the street exploded into cheers and roars.

  James' eyes glowed.

  The elder boys turned, eyes wide open.

  It was Lino's voice, in front, with Tonno, cracking his knuckles and Pinch, puffing his chest despite being the smallest, trying to intimidate the attackers of James.

  "Tch. They ambushed us." one cursed. "Damn Wolves."

  "No need to worry. They are missing Mira and the—" another started, but couldn't finish as he heard a conversation from two kids exiting the station.

  Mira first, emerging from the abandoned subway station, hands in her pocket, skipping two stairs at a time.

  "I am taking care of the orphanage. I'm telling you. And from now, running errands too. Sister Agnes agreed as long as I respect the hours and you guys walk me."

  The elder boys froze, a few recognized her—she beat them before. In a quick fight that Mira doesn't even remember.

  As soon as her eyes locked with theirs—then James, she understood.

  "Oh! Finally a fight! Good job, James!"

  She adjusted her cap, planted her left foot, raised her fists, and bounced lightly on her toes, shifting her weight with the restless rhythm of a seasoned fighter.

  The girls watched her with awe, beautiful, yet her reputation spoke for her. The girl who fought boys twice her size and won. The girl who got stabbed, standing up for what's right. Her green eyes precise and locked on her opponents.

  "Don't disappoint! You're taller! You got a chance!"

  "GO, Mira!" Pinch cheered. "Beat his a—" Tonno muffled him, preventing inappropriate words.

  "Everyone! Let's cheer!!!" one of the Panthers kids shouted.

  "MIRA! MIRA!"

  "WOLVES! WOLVES!"

  The elder boys gritted their teeth in fury, the cheers only fueling them. Then, behind Mira, a figure appeared, finally done with his laces, he climbed the stairs step by step, arms loose, calm.

  The instant Leo’s face came into view, the elder boys scattered.

  “SERVES YOU RIGHT!” shouted a sweep from the rooftops.

  “VICTORY!!!” another kid from a smaller gang joined in.

  Mira clinched her fists in disappointment, crumbling to the ground in despair.

  "I wanted to fight so bad!"

  Leo didn't even get a good look at the faces of the elder boys. He blinked hard, taking in Mira on the ground and the cheers—everything too jumbled to make sense.

  Only when he saw James did his expression change.

  "Oh, hey, James."

  James laughed. "He has no idea," he murmured to himself.

  "Hey, big brother Leo."

  "Stop calling me that," Leo smirked. "I feel old."

  Tonno, Pinch, and Lino approached Antonio, who stood a little ways off.

  "Morning, Antoninho!" Tonno greeted. "Strange seeing you on the ground. Had enough looking down on us? Stooping too low to our level now?"

  "Maybe it’s your clone. Not you," Lino added, scanning him. "You sweeps are like ninjas after all!"

  Antonio chuckled, amused by the playful bullying.

  Pinch kept staring at him. As soon as they made eye contact, he tilted his head like a confused puppy, making Antonio feel uneasy.

  “Um… guys,” he finally managed, “could you pass a message to Leo for me?”

  “Sure.” Lino and Tonno said in perfect sync.

  Then the usual fight broke out.

  “Echoing me again?!” Lino shouted.

  “I spoke first!” Tonno shoved him back with one hand.

  “You spoke louder! Doesn't count!”

  "It does when the older one does it!"

  "Big arms! Empty bald head!"

  Pinch watched, annoyed, tugging at their coats and cheeks. It wasn’t a fight to hurt—just another Tonno-Lino argument, one he’d seen a thousand times.

  “Don’t mind them, Antonio.” Mira finally stood, brushing dust off her trousers. “You can talk to me. I’m the vice leader,” she added, proud, thumb pointed at herself.

  The shouts continued behind them. The other kids kept laughing at Lino and Tonno, while Pinch remained a statue, unimpressed.

  “Ah… well, it’s about our next meeting. The police aren’t allowing gatherings anymore. We should keep that in mind for the next meeting.”

  “Gotcha,” Mira said with a wink. “But why don’t you tell him yourself? He’s right there.” She nudged toward Leo, who was checking on James and straightening his clothes.

  Antonio hesitated.

  “He’s…hard to approach. Even though we meet regularly and I trust him… When I talk to him, I get… careful.”

  Mira nodded once.

  “Then I’ll tell him. But next time, you should. Say it wrong, say it messy, he’ll still listen.”

  Antonio nodded, but her ease caught him off guard. He wasn’t used to being spoken to so simply by a girl. Not with the soot that never quite washed off, the smell of chimneys clinging to him, the way girls usually looked past him or not at all. Mira didn’t. She talked to him like she did to anyone else, like he belonged there.

  They turned to a street alive with children. The slums were meant to be silent—smoke-choked alleys, soot-heavy air, fear pressed into every wall. Mob terror and police raids had only deepened it. Yet now, the children moved together. United.

  A tear slipped down Antonio’s cheek. He, who had endured chimney sweep tragedies—scoldings that bruised body and spirit, winters spent coughing in ragged clothes, nights on nothing but threadbare mats—knew this fragile unity was rare and precious.

  "I can't believe this."

  "Us chimney sweeps from the sky."

  "Newsboys on the ground."

  "The gangs walking each other."

  Then he turned to Mira,

  "And you guys as the guardians from the few bullies we can't detect. We're like our own city."

  Mira’s lips pressed into a thin line.

  “Yeah,” she said, voice calm but firm. “Our city. And every part of it matters.”

  Then, Antonio added.

  "The only thing missing is... maybe doctors. Kid doctors, you—you know?"

  Mira shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips.

  “Actually… we do have one.”

  Antonio blinked, surprised.

  “We do?”

  Mira’s gaze flicked to the ground for a heartbeat, then back up, green eyes bright.

  “Leo was going to mention it at the next meeting anyway.”

  She tapped the side of her cap with a finger, teasing without meaning to.

  “And… if any of you feel sick, just say the word. I’ll get him.”

  Leo heard that part, as he finally finished with James. He didn't stand up. The mob retaliation rumors, the arrests on their thugs, the Dons preparing to respond—all of it circled around the bar he works in.

  "Nothing from Alex and Dante."

  "We need that."

  "I also hope Noor is safe."

  “Leo?” James noticed.

  Leo blinked, then smiled, gentle. The worry didn’t leave his eyes but he kept it there, for himself. The others had finally seen light, and he wasn’t about to be the one who dimmed it.

  “Sorry, James. Spaced out.” he stood up, “Don't be home late.”

  Home.

  The word lingered with James as he nodded hard.

  “Yes!”

  He turned and headed back where he came from, newspapers tucked under his arm.

  Kids were already watching him—waiting.

  James took his usual place back, lifted a paper, and the street began to move again.

  Leo finally straightened up and headed towards Lino and Tonno—still arguing.

  “Guys. Save your energy for what matters.”

  Lino and Tonno froze mid-grapple, hands still fisted in each other’s coats. Pinch, stuck between them, looked relieved.

  Tonno huffed. Lino rolled his eyes. They let go anyway.

  Leo turned to Mira, already half-thinking ahead.

  “Mira, I’ll pass by the Red Corner later. Look after the guys for me.” he paused, just long enough to matter, “And as usual, we go home early.”

  Mira clicked her tongue, biting her lip.

  “I still think they’re not worth it, Leo.”

  Leo shrugged.

  “Maybe. But hunger’s not a lesson I’m willing to teach.”

  Then, almost as an afterthought, he added,

  “If you see Alex… or Dante, tell them I said hi.”

  Mira tilted her head.

  “O…kay? That’s unlike you.”

  Leo glanced back, the corner of his mouth lifting.

  “Just checking. We don’t see them much.”

  His grin sharpened, stone face gone for a heartbeat.

  “Not as much as you.”

  Mira blinked, cheeks pink.

  “W-What do you mean?”

  “Nothing.”

  Leo turned, entering the hideout.

  “Get back here!” Mira snapped. “He dropped by the orphanage just to give me the handbills! And NOTHING HAPPENED! I SWEAR!”

  “Of all people, he gave them to you?"

  "It—It was a coincidence!"

  "Yes. Yes.”

  “Don’t yes-yes me!”

  Lino, Tonno, and Pinch piled in at once, overlapping complaints, accusations, laughter. The noise followed Leo underground.

  Inside the hideout, the kids gathered what they had.

  Leo didn't bring anything. He had to feed James and save food for the Red corner kids, as promised.

  Tonno brought bread from his family’s place—hard, uneven slices, but plenty of them.

  Mira added boiled potatoes from the orphanage, wrapped in cloth to keep them warm.

  Lino dumped a small sack of apples on the crate—used as a table, nicked and bruised but still good.

  Pinch, proud as anything, produced a handful of sugar cubes and a bit of dried cheese he’d “found.”

  It wasn’t much. It never was.

  Outside, the rest of the kids did the same—each group adding something, anything. A crust. A carrot. A tin split three ways.

  The shortage didn’t make the food grow.

  But sitting together, sharing it, laughing with mouths half full—

  that made the hunger quieter than it should have been.

  On the rooftops, the chimney sweeps gathered too. Antonio ate with them, legs dangling over the edge, soot on his hands, leaving his master below convinced he’d skipped lunch again.

  Above, they watched. Below, the newsboys huddled in their usual alley, sharing bread and whispers, their eyes alert.

  No one paid attention to the warning about gatherings.

  And somehow, without meaning to, the city of children began another day.