❝The world is merciless, and it's also very beautiful.❞
For years she'd suffered, under the bitter rain as it washed away the blood, under the scorching sun as it charred her wounds - for nature had fallen prey to the destructive march of the Allie...
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She was four when she first met him.
Her orphanage was doused in orange flames, set on the outskirts of the city, a brilliant blob of light against the pitch-black sky. Heroes rushed around the scene, carrying screaming children and bewildered adults to safety.
The crackling of burning wood reached her ears as she raised her soot-covered face from the ground and stared outside of the basement window.
Her bandaged arms reached out to grab the window bars but faltered when she saw the headmistress of the orphanage, Mrs. Aiko, being tended to her wounds while sitting under a tree. She was surrounded by the other children, who scooted closer to her whenever a Pro Hero tried to talk to them. Mrs. Aiko would automatically wrap her arms around their trembling frames and give them a gentle smile, a stark contrast from the look of loathing usually reserved for her.
Her stomach grumbled. She hadn't eaten since yesterday.
The basement door was hidden well out of sight, beneath a heavy green carpet. Her name did not exist in the orphanage register, so it's not like anyone would remember her, an emaciated child who only appeared from her confinement at the crack of dawn to eat last night's leftovers and disappeared again before anyone could see her.
She glanced down at her hands and looked up again. They were almost done with the evacuation. Everyone was accounted for, she heard a Pro Hero say.
Her hand reached up to scratch her greasy hair.
She was left behind again.
A rustling outside her window caught her attention. She raised her head again. Past the heavy screen of smoke and rubble, she caught sight of a boy, somewhere in his early twenties, dressed in black clothes and a gray scarf wrapped around his neck. A pair of yellow goggles dangled from between his scarf.
He was looking — no, squinting in her direction and again that ugly feeling bloomed in her chest, one that was ruthlessly crushed every time it happened, no matter how much she tried to suppress it, to avoid being hurt.
Hope.
Her breath hitched as she saw him take a step forward in her direction, his eyes growing more and more worried. He took another step and a choked sob escaped her chapped lips.
She raised a trembling hand as if trying to reach out to him, her breaths coming in short, rapid bursts when he stopped.
Her breathing stilled.
He frowned. The conflicted expression on his face grew as he slowly retraced his steps, giving one last look in her direction before disappearing again behind the smoke.
Her hand dropped to her side.
The Pro Heroes soon cleared out the scene and the rescue attempt was declared a complete success. No one was aware of the unconscious body of the four-year-old lying on the hard concrete floor of the basement.
