Homeless, parent-less, and broke at the young age of ten, Kiyotaka Ishimaru's desperation had driven him to do the unthinkable; he had become a pickpocket. And he was a pretty good one at that, having stolen just enough to allow him to eat the night before. However, today was a new day, and the uncomfortable rumble in Kiyotaka's belly told him that it was very much empty. So, as much as he despised it, Kiyotaka had to go out and search again, lest he wanted to go hungry today.
And that was how he'd ended up in this situation; on the cold, hard concrete, with a mouth full of gravel, staring up into the intimidating figure of the ex-bosozuko he'd just tried to rob, unsuccessfully due to him tripping on someone's foot. Tears were streaming down his face, along with blood from the cut he'd gotten on his head, and the tiny boy was holding his scratched up arms and hands over his head and face, shaking profusely.
"P-please, sir, I-I d-didn't know it w-was you, the Daiya Oowada, I just—please don't!" Kiyotaka squealed as he was picked up by the back of his shirt, curling up like a kitten as the much larger man lifted him up, a little smirk on his face.
"Ah, shit kiddo, I ain't gonna hurt ya'! I don' hurt kids, 's not my thing." Then, he reached out with one hand, and Kiyotaka was absolutely sure that Daiya was going to hit him, but then...
He affectionately ruffled the boy's soft black hair and smiled widely. "That took a lotta guts, too! Goin' after a big guy like me. Yer pretty tough, kid." Completely in awe, Kiyotaka let his jaw drop, and Daiya gently set the boy back on the ground. "What's yer name, kid?"
"K-Kiyotaka Ishimaru," he barely whimpered, his legs shaking so hard he was afraid he might fall over.
"Ah, fuck, yer an Ishimaru, huh?" Daiya leaned down to the boy's level, and Kiyotaka's shaking lessened a bit, though Daiya's expression was serious. "What's a kid like you doin' stealin' from people? Wouldn't yer mum be a lil' disappointed in ya'?"
At the mention of his mother, Kiyotaka flinched, before sputtering out, "I-I...my Mama's dead. So is Papa...t-they died a couple months ago..." He lifted his hand up to his cheek, rubbing away some of the dirt and tears on his face. "I-I-I'm very sorry for trying to r-rob you, M-Mister Oowada, I was hungry and I-I...p-please don't turn me in to the police!" He'd started to cry again, and Daiya reached out, scooping up the tiny boy into one of his arms. It was highly unexpected, and Kiyotaka let out a little squeak as Daiya stood up and straightened, grinning at the trembling child in his arm.
"No harm done, kiddo!" He laughed, then gave the boy's head a good knuckling, before starting off down the street. "Since yer an orphan, I guess you gotta go to an orphanage then, huh?"
"M-Mister Oowada—"
"But don' worry, kiddo, ya' ain't goin' to any old orphanage, yer gonna go to my orphanage!"
"W...what?"
"I run an orphanage, did it ever since my folks kicked the bucket. You'll be just fine there, with kids yer own age an' shit. That's what kids like, right? Playmates? And ya' won't have ta' pickpocket anymore, it'll keep ya' from getting' into more trouble like this, right?" Daiya knuckled the kid's head again, then shifted his arm a bit. "Now, let's go get you cleaned up, a'ight?"
Unable to really do anything except nod, Kiyotaka clung to the man's comparatively huge chest and buried his face into his neck as he did.
He had no idea what his life was about to become.