No One Cared

Something had happened to Sarasa.

The heavy rain had stopped that evening, but water still lingered in the cracks between Meteor City's stone bricks. Chrollo and the Phantom Troupe had rushed over after Shalnark notified them, only to be stopped outside the gate.

Water condensed beneath the tin eaves under the overcast sky. A drop fell with a splat at Chrollo's feet.

The boy looked down at his distorted reflection in a puddle and heard Uvogin's heavy breathing behind him. The burly boy, who was always thumping his chest, was now rubbing his knuckles repeatedly against a rusty drainpipe.

"You're not welcome here!!"

Outside the small brick-and-stone courtyard, a sturdy young man stood blocking the gate, showing no intention of letting Chrollo and the others in.

"We're all friends of Sarasa's."

Chrollo suppressed his worry and looked up as he protested.

He thought the man at the gate had stopped him because he didn't recognize him.

"Friends of Sarasa's?" The young man standing in front of the rusted iron gate suddenly scoffed, his callused hand gripping the frame until it creaked.

"Where were you 'friends' when she crawled back from the outskirts of Meteor City, covered in blood?"

"What..."

Chrollo was taken aback. He distinctly remembered that Sarasa had swapped shifts with a friend and gone to clean up garbage with her!

Why would she have gone to the outskirts?

And she had even, even suffered such serious injuries.

"Could she have gone looking for new videotapes?"

After a moment's thought, the most likely possibility occurred to Chrollo.

That had to be it. Apart from looking for videotapes, she had no reason to go to the outskirts!

Nobunaga slowly raised his left hand and rested it on the wooden sword at his waist. He remembered this man called Hank. Three months ago, in a brawl in the southern district, he had broken the necks of three raiders with his bare hands.

Rainwater was still dripping from the iron spike tucked diagonally behind Hank's waist, leaving dark red stains on the bluestone pavement.

"The acid rain on the outskirts corrodes the respiratory system," Pakunoda suddenly said, the medical bandage stretched between her fingers in a pale straight line. "A seven-year-old's alveoli can't withstand it!"

The air suddenly froze at those words.

Machi saw the fingers of Chrollo's hand twitch at his side, and the boy's usually steady voice finally cracked. "We didn't know she..."

"Get lost!"

The iron gate slammed shut.

Uvogin punched the mottled brick wall, sending plaster dust sifting into his tangled white hair.

The boy who hadn't shed a single tear when he was abandoned on a garbage mountain ten years ago now let out a whimper like a young animal.

"Chrollo, what do we do next? How long are we postponing the performance?"

Around the corner, Sheila rubbed her left leg and asked Chrollo with a displeased look.

Her leg was already bad, and accompanying everyone this far had exhausted what little patience she had.

"Of course, it's not that I don't care about Sarasa, but you saw it too. He simply won't let us in."

Sheila paused briefly, noticed the strange looks on the faces of those around her, and hurriedly added,

"We promised the children we'd only postpone the performance by one day, didn't we?"

Postpone the performance?

Chrollo's eyes grew deeper. Was a performance that could be held at any time actually more important to Sheila than Sarasa's safety?

How much affection could such a selfish person have for the Phantom Troupe and everyone in it?

"Let's go for now."

As he spoke, his gaze swept over Sheila's brightly painted fingernails.

Those scarlet crescents reminded him of the blood-red sun Sarasa had drawn on the curtain with crayons for her last performance.

"The street organized a garbage cleanup yesterday. Maybe we can get some information from the elders?"

Shalnark scratched his head, then promptly got up and headed toward the intersection.

"Give me ten minutes. I'll find a few friends nearby who took part and ask them!"

By the time his words faded, he had already run far off.

"Let's wait. Hopefully Shalnark can bring back some information..."

After calming everyone down, or rather, calming Sheila down, Chrollo fell silent again.

The air fell silent for a while, until ten minutes later.

"I found something out!!!"

Shalnark waved his arms as he jogged over, heading straight for the members of the troupe.

"Yesterday, during the garbage cleanup, Sarasa and Carl teamed, teamed up!"

"Apparently, apparently they were assigned to the main road on Seventh Garbage Mountain!"

"But acid rain started falling halfway through, so everyone found their own places to take shelter. So nobody saw when they came back."

"Huff, huff~"

Bent over with his hands on his knees, Shalnark blurted out everything he had learned in one breath.

"Let's go to Carl's place! Right now!"

Uvogin took a deep breath and asked the other members of the troupe.

Guilt weighed on his heart, nearly driving him mad.

"Do you know where Carl lives?"

Nobunaga raised his eyes, his voice full of resignation.

Of course he could hear the urgency in Uvogin's voice!

But Carl had always kept to herself. Who would know what remote corner she lived in?

"Chrollo..."

Franklin opened his mouth and looked hesitantly at the boy leading them.

"Let's go!"

Without hesitation, Chrollo was the first to step out from the corner, heading toward a place he remembered.

Seeing this, the other troupe members got up together and followed close behind him.

Half an hour later, they arrived at the shanty district.

Bang!

A loud pounding suddenly rang out at the door of a tin shack in a remote part of the shanty district.

"Carl, are you home?"

"..."

"..."

After a while, seeing that there was no response,

Chrollo's face abruptly darkened, and a bad feeling rose in his heart.

"Chrollo, move aside. I'll smash the door open!"

Uvogin clenched his fist and prepared to step forward.

He desperately needed to know how Sarasa was doing and had no time to waste here!

Chrollo glanced at Uvogin and said darkly,

"No need. If Carl were inside, he'd definitely open the door for me!"

Hearing that, Uvogin stopped.

After hesitating for a while, he silently lowered his fist. Even in Meteor City, smashing someone's shack without warning was a serious taboo.

"So... Carl still hasn't come back?" Paku frowned, saying what Chrollo had left unsaid.

"Could something have happened?"

"Let's go to the Seventh Garbage District!" Chrollo said decisively.

With that, he glanced over everyone, finally settling his gaze on Sheila.

"Sheila, it's hard for you to get around, so you can head back first."

Unlike the interior of Meteor City, the garbage mountains on the outskirts were always fraught with danger. He couldn't bring this burden along!

"I..." Sheila opened her mouth, somewhat tempted.

"I'll carry her!" Franklin crouched down and beckoned to Sheila with an honest smile.

She was their companion, after all, and he couldn't feel at ease leaving Sheila here alone.

"Franklin, he..." Nobunaga and Phinks exchanged a glance, each forming a guess.

They weren't fools. Although Franklin was usually a nice guy, he was a little too nice to Sheila!

It was almost as if...

Chrollo said no more and led everyone toward the Seventh Garbage District.

Not long after they left, Hank's tall figure suddenly darted out from the street corner.

Sarasa felt her eyelashes sticking together. The warmth coming from Hank's back made her feel as if she had returned to that stormy night. When Carl had thrown the cloak over her head, that warmth, tinged with the smell of rust, had enveloped her just the same.

"He told me to run."

Her high fever cast a strange halo over her memories, the fragments of leaping through the garbage mountains flickering like frames from a stuttering old projector.

"But he turned around and went back himself... went back..." Her fingers suddenly dug deep into her brother's shoulder, and the sharp pain made Hank suck in a breath.

"Sarasa, take care of yourself. Don't catch another chill..."

Hank turned his head slightly, looking worriedly at his sister's flushed face.

He didn't understand why Sarasa had jumped out of bed and insisted on coming here the moment she woke up...

She still had a fever, and the wounds all over her body had only just been bandaged...

"Carl, are you still alive?"

Seeing that the tin shack wasn't far away, Sarasa took a deep breath and shouted at the top of her lungs.

Even though forcing out so much air made her lungs ache, she showed no sign of stopping!

"Don't stop until you've run back to the southern district. Don't look back on the way, understand?"

"Take my cloak. If I come back and don't see it, you'll have to replace it with a new one!"

In her memory, the boy had coldly stuffed his cloak into her hands, then turned and run back.

Sarasa knew he had deliberately gone back to buy time for her, since her ankle was injured!

She was the one who had chosen to go to the outskirts. Carl hadn't needed to come at all...

"Sis, there doesn't seem to be anyone in this shack!"

After knocking on the iron door more than a dozen times without getting the slightest response from inside, Hank couldn't help turning his head and speaking softly.

He didn't dare speak too loudly, since Sarasa still had a high fever.

"Let's go look, go look..."

Sarasa's face went pale, and her words became halting.

An inexplicable sadness enveloped her heart, leaving her at a loss for a moment.

Who else could she go to?

The elders? Her foster mother? Would they organize everyone to search for someone on the outskirts of Meteor City for her sake?

The outskirts were so dangerous. Who would go for an orphan?

"Brother Hank, go to the Seventh Garbage District!"

Lying against Hank's shoulder, Sarasa spoke in a hoarse voice.

Her scorched alveoli made every sentence an exercise in indescribable pain.

"Huh?"

Hank's mouth twitched. He figured Sarasa might be delirious with fever.

"You won't go? Then put me down!"

"I'll go!!!"

Looking straight into Hank's eyes, Sarasa spoke softly but with particular solemnity.

"Sigh~"

"Can't I just take you there?" Hank's head drooped as he agreed helplessly.

Could Sarasa, feverish and injured, go to Seventh Garbage Mountain alone?

The answer was no.

Hank figured that if he let her do that, their foster mother would definitely tear him apart when he got back...

"Let's go, let's go. The sooner we leave, the sooner we'll be back!"

The two figures gradually receded, leaving only the tin shack standing in the sunlight, casting a huge shadow.