Rorschach had been born with a little color.
What color?
Yellow!
After all, before Rorschach turned eight, his job had always been...
Helping his prostitute mother keep watch for her clients!
He did not even know who his father was, and neither did his mother.
Yet Rorschach had always been physically strong, even as a child. He had most likely inherited that from his mother.
Because his mother had an exceptionally fine reputation in her line of work.
She was the kind with seemingly endless energy.
Even when she was eight and a half months pregnant with Rorschach, she had still been able to keep working.
And what about Rorschach's circle of friends?
His mother was a pitiful prostitute born of war.
Naturally, Rorschach would never become the child others flocked around.
Of course, there were times when people surrounded him—for instance, when a crowd gathered around him to decide how best to beat him up.
A child like him, raised by a single parent, from a poor family, and especially short and skinny.
Was clearly the perfect bullying target for bad kids.
From then on, Rorschach understood one thing.
There were good people and bad people in this world, justice and evil.
But there was no God!
Because justice had never stood at his side!
And conversely, if there truly was a God in this world.
Then that so-called deity did not deserve to be called a god.
Also because justice had never stood beside someone like him, someone entirely without fault!
And from that same moment onward, Rorschach truly made up his mind.
If justice would not come to him, then he would use his fists to forge his own justice!
More than that, he would bring the justice he forged to even more people!
And that was