Taro Town
A girl with beautiful pink eyes struggled to carry a full bucket of water with both hands toward her home. Her frail, skinny body swayed unsteadily as she shuffled forward step by step, soon arriving at the entrance of a dilapidated house.
A man in tattered clothes, reeking of alcohol, stood at the doorway. He was speaking eagerly to a well-dressed man beside him. When he saw the girl carrying the water, he quickly turned to the richly dressed man and said ingratiatingly:
"Lord Ichiro, this is my daughter. What do you think? How much can she fetch?"
"Too thin." Akiyama Ichiro shook his head as he looked at the girl.
"Lord Ichiro, don't be fooled by how skinny she is. She's easy to keep alive—doesn't eat much. I can feed her once every few days and she's still fine. And look, she's obedient and well-behaved. No matter how you treat her, even if you beat her, she won't dare resist…"
Akiyama Ichiro said nothing at first, merely examining the girl closely. Her eyes appeared somewhat hollow and stiff, yet those pinkish-purple pupils shone like stars. Though her cheeks were pale from malnutrition, her features were well-shaped. With proper care, she would undoubtedly grow into an exceptionally beautiful woman.
Akiyama Ichiro was very confident in his judgment. Goods of such quality—whether kept for himself or sold later—would bring enormous profit.
He had heard that the man once had eleven children, ten of whom had been beaten or starved to death, leaving only this girl alive. If the other children had been of similar quality, who knew how much he could have earned by buying them all?
Thinking this, Akiyama Ichiro couldn't help but sigh at the man's stupidity and cruelty. After all, they were his own children—what kind of parents could be so heartless?
Then again, if the man hadn't been so utterly devoid of conscience, he probably wouldn't have had the chance to purchase such fine merchandise.
"I'll raise the price a little."
…
The frail girl carried the bucket inside with difficulty. She had heard the conversation between her father and the other man. She knew her father was going to sell her.
Yet there was no emotion on her face—her gaze remained empty and numb.
If another child overheard being sold by their parents, they would likely cry and wail in grief. But she felt no sadness at all.
For her, emotions like sadness had drifted far, far away.
Since birth, she had never received any kindness. How she had survived until now, she herself didn't quite know. At first, she used to cry and fuss—but every time she cried, she was met with her father's fists and kicks. Crying only brought beatings.
Gradually, she stopped crying.
Sometimes, when she experienced small moments of happiness—like finally getting to eat a rice ball and smiling—she would be beaten by her parents if they were in a bad mood.
So gradually, she stopped smiling too.
Joy, sorrow, bitterness, and sweetness were buried deep inside her heart with every blow she endured. As the older siblings who once cared for her were beaten to death one by one, she felt less and less of anything at all. She slowly forgot how to express her emotions.
Bit by bit, she stopped expecting anything from tomorrow.
…
After the price was settled and Akiyama Ichiro paid the money, he said to the alcohol-reeking man:
"I have matters to attend to today. I'll come back in a couple of days to take her. Keep her here and feed her in the meantime."
"Yes, Lord Ichiro."
The alcohol-reeking man happily accepted the money from selling his daughter.
At that moment, the girl—who had been struggling to carry the bucket and had felt no sadness even upon hearing she was being sold—rarely lifted her head. Her pinkish-purple eyes flickered violently for a brief instant. But the moment she saw her drunken father, she shrank back in fear and lowered her head again.
It wasn't because being sold by her father stirred any particular emotion. It was simply because, upon realizing she would have to leave this home, something suddenly rose within her heart.
Not because there was anything in this house worth caring about.
But because once she left, she would never again see that gentle uncle who visited at night.
She didn't want to leave home.
She still wanted to see that uncle every night.
It was the first time she had ever encountered true warmth. The first time she had ever been treated with genuine gentleness.
But all of that… was gradually slipping away.
Her small fists unconsciously clenched, yet there was nothing she could do. No matter how warm something felt, it would eventually be lost, leaving only endless cold to greet her.
The light in her pinkish-purple eyes gradually faded. Those once faintly bright eyes turned numb and stiff, like a puppet without emotions.
…
Neither the parents who sold their child nor Akiyama Ichiro, who purchased a slave, cared about the girl's feelings. After carrying the bucket inside, she did not continue working as she normally would.
In the past, whenever her father was home, she had to work without pause. Otherwise, she would inevitably be met with fists and kicks.
But this time, she merely walked blankly to the doorway and curled up in a corner near the entrance.
The alcohol-soaked man instinctively raised his fist when he saw his daughter slacking off. But just as he was about to strike, he remembered he had already sold her. If she were injured, it would be difficult to explain to the buyer. In the end, he lowered his fist and snorted coldly.
"Don't run around. If I find out you wandered off, I'll beat you to death."
The girl remained curled up in the corner, as if she hadn't heard him at all.
The drunken man didn't care. Having just made a decent sum from selling his daughter, he planned to head to the gambling house for a round. He felt his luck was surely good today—he was certain he would win big.
The girl quietly stayed in the corner, lifting her head to look at the sky. Her beautiful pinkish-purple eyes were completely devoid of color, her whole being like a soulless marionette.
But as the sun gradually sank below the horizon, a faint glimmer slowly returned to her lifeless eyes.
Clear, firm footsteps approached from the distance.
"Little girl, have you recently seen anyone dressed like us?"
A passing man in tight black clothing stopped and crouched down in front of her, asking gently.
The girl's eyes remained blank, without any trace of expression.
Seeing how thin and pitiful she looked—as though she hadn't eaten a full meal in a long time—Furukawa Hiroshi sighed softly and took some loose change from his pocket, placing it in her hand.
When the girl showed no reaction, Furukawa Hiroshi still reminded her kindly:
"When the sun sets, remember to go inside. After dark, it can be dangerous outside."
With that, he shook his head and left.
The girl remained quietly curled in the corner. As the sky grew darker and darker, a faint light gradually rose in her hollow eyes.
For her, nighttime did not feel dangerous at all.
...
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