Taro Town
The girl with the pretty pink eyes struggled to carry a full bucket of water home with both hands. Her small, frail body swayed as she shuffled along, soon reaching the entrance to her rather dilapidated home.
A raggedly dressed man who reeked of alcohol stood outside, eagerly talking to a man in fine clothes beside him. When he saw the girl carrying the water, he turned to the finely dressed man with a fawning smile. "Lord Ichiro, this is my daughter. What do you think, Lord Ichiro? How much could she sell for?"
"Too thin."
Ichiro Akiyama shook his head as he looked at the girl.
"Lord Ichiro, my daughter may be thin, but she's very easy to keep. She hardly eats anything. I only feed her once every few days, and she gets along just fine. And look, she's sensible and obedient, very docile too. No matter how much you beat her, she wouldn't dare fight back..."
Ichiro Akiyama said nothing, merely examining the girl. Her gaze was somewhat vacant and stiff, but her pinkish-purple eyes shone like stars. Though malnutrition had left her cheeks pale, he could see that she had lovely features. With some proper care, she would surely grow into an exceptionally beautiful woman.
Ichiro Akiyama had great confidence in his judgment. With merchandise this fine, whether he kept her to toy with himself or sold her later, he stood to make an enormous profit.
He had heard that the man originally had eleven children, ten of whom he had beaten or starved to death. Only the girl before him had survived. If the other children had been of the same quality, who knew how much he could have earned by buying them all?
At that thought, Ichiro Akiyama lamented the man's stupidity and cruelty. They were his own children, after all. What sort of parents could be so heartless?
Still, if the man had not been such a heartless brute, he probably would never have been able to buy such fine merchandise.
"Then I'll raise the price a little."
The frail little girl struggled into the house with the bucket. She had heard the conversation between her father and the stranger, including the news that her father was going to sell her. Yet she felt nothing, her eyes vacant and numb.
Other children would probably have cried and made a fuss in sorrow upon hearing that their parents were selling them. But hearing those words, the girl felt not the slightest sadness.
For her, an emotion like sadness had gradually become something very, very distant.
Since birth, she had never been treated with any tenderness. She was not quite sure how she had survived until now. At first, she had cried and made a fuss too, but every time she did, all she received were her father's fists and kicks. Whenever she cried, she suffered a vicious beating.
Little by little, she stopped crying.
Sometimes, if something made her a little happy-such as finally getting a piece of a rice ball-and she smiled, she might still suffer her parents' fists and kicks if they were in a bad mood.
So, little by little, she stopped smiling too.
With every beating, all her feelings slowly retreated deep inside her. As the older brothers and sisters who had cared for her were beaten to death by their parents one after another, she gradually felt fewer and fewer emotions, and slowly lost the ability to express her feelings.
Little by little, she stopped expecting anything from tomorrow.
Once they had agreed on the price, Ichiro Akiyama paid and said to the man who reeked of alcohol:
"I still have something to take care of today. I'll come back in a couple of days to take her away. Keep her here and look after her until then."
"Of course, Lord Ichiro."
The alcohol-reeking man happily accepted the money from selling his daughter.
At that moment, the girl, who had been struggling with the bucket all this time and felt no sadness even at being sold by her parents, raised her head for once. Her pinkish-purple eyes flickered intensely, a rare sight. But the instant she saw her drunken father, she shrank back in fear and lowered her head again.
She felt nothing about being sold by her father. The emotion that had suddenly stirred in her heart came simply from the thought of leaving this home.
It was not because there was anything in this home that she treasured. It was only because, once she left, she would never again be able to see that gentle uncle at night.
She did not want to leave home.
She still wanted to see him every night.
The first warmth she had ever truly known, the first time she had ever truly felt what it meant to be treated gently.
But all of it... was gradually slipping away.
Her little fists clenched without her realizing it, but that futile gesture was all she could manage. No matter how warm something was, she would lose it in the end, just like everything else. All that awaited her was endless, bitter cold.
The girl's gaze slowly lost its focus. The faint light in her pretty pinkish-purple eyes faded, leaving them dull and rigid, like those of a puppet without feelings.
Neither the parents selling their child nor Ichiro Akiyama, who was buying a slave, cared about the girl's feelings. After carrying the bucket inside, she did not continue working as she usually did.
In the past, whenever her father was home, she had to work without a moment's rest. Otherwise, his fists and kicks were sure to follow.
This time, however, she merely walked numbly to the doorway and huddled in a corner beside it.
Seeing his daughter slacking off, the alcohol-reeking man instinctively raised his fist. But just as he was about to strike, he remembered that he had already sold her. If he injured her, he might have trouble explaining it to the buyer. In the end, he could only lower his fist and snort. "Don't go wandering off. If I catch you roaming around, I'll beat you to death."
The girl merely huddled in the corner by the doorway, as though she had not heard him.
The alcohol-reeking man paid her no further attention. He had just made quite a bit of money selling his daughter, enough to try his luck at the gambling house. He felt certain his luck was excellent now, and that he would win plenty of money.
The girl huddled quietly in the corner by the doorway and looked up at the sky. Her pretty pinkish-purple eyes held no trace of life, and she seemed like a marionette without a soul. Only as the sun gradually sank did a faint light begin to appear in her lifeless eyes.
Clear, firm footsteps approached from a distance.
"Little girl, have you seen anyone wearing the same clothes as us lately?"
A passing man in close-fitting black clothes stopped and crouched in front of her, asking in a gentle voice.
The girl's eyes were blank, without a trace of life.
Seeing how frail and pitiful she looked, as though she had not had a full meal in a long time, "Hiroshi Furukawa" sighed. He took some loose change from his pocket and placed it in her hand.
Seeing
that the girl remained unmoved, "Hiroshi Furukawa" still reminded her:
"Remember to go inside when the sun sets. It'll be dangerous out here after dark."
With that, "Hiroshi Furukawa" shook his head and left.
The girl still huddled quietly in the corner. As the sky grew darker and darker, a little light gradually rose in her vacant, lifeless eyes.
To the girl, there was nothing dangerous about being outside at night.