Chapter 11 : Ugly nine years old (2)

In a quiet alley, the girl sits alone, staring blankly.
She lacks the will to live or the urge to do anything, her motivation shallow.
Blinking her hazy ashen eyes, she soaks in the silence filling her surroundings.

Moving to this new spot with the boy whose name she now knows has helped a lot.
Even in broad daylight, she can sit idly without disturbance.
No kids come to throw stones, and adults avoid her altogether.
This nearly deserted alley suits her just fine.

So, she now eats her hidden candies even during the day.
Carefully peeling off the rough wrapper, she pops the round, colorful piece into her mouth.
It’s sticky.
So sweet.
The candy rolling around her mouth feels almost warm.
It makes her drowsy as she eats, closing her eyes as if floating.
Lost in the moment, she doesn’t notice time passing until it vanishes like a dream.

Then, memories flood back, making her tremble.
“…Ain.”
Without realizing, she calls the boy’s name.
“Ain.”

The candy’s sweetness fades, but the memory sharpens.
“Ain.”
Piling up, always piling up.
“Ain.”
Her once-empty, hollow heart feels full.
“Ain.”
Her foggy ashen eyes glint briefly.
“Ain.”
Repeating, over and over.
“Ain.”
Swelling, growing.
“Ain.”
Uncharacteristically, her lips curl upward.
“Ain.”

Ain.
I’ll be good today too.
So please, don’t abandon me.

The winter of my ninth year.
It’s just after the New Year.
The aftertaste of Mom’s terrible but special New Year’s food still lingers.

After a busy rush at the grocery store, I sit idly with the uncle and speak up.
“Uncle.”
“What now? I already gave you a New Year’s gift.”

He gave me a decent pair of winter gloves, saying it’s because I’m still a kid.
But that’s not what I’m asking about.

“No, I really appreciate that. But, uh… could I maybe take some unused building materials from the shop?”
“Haha, you’re a downright thief! I gave you a gift, your pay’s gone up, and now you want to take more, Ain?”
“Well… I just noticed them sitting in the storage…”

I’ve been eyeing the wooden planks, ropes, and nails piling up for over a year, unused. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask.
The uncle, amused by my greed, chuckles and says,
“I’m starting to think hiring you was the biggest mistake of my life. What’s the culprit’s take on that?”
“No way. Think of all the money I’ve made you.”

Mistake? Hardly.
Even after my pay and expenses, sales have doubled.
The extra profit could probably raise another kid.
He’s already got three, but having another for the Empire’s sake wouldn’t be bad.

Grinning at him with that thought, he shakes his head and replies,
“Ugh… Just take the materials and go home. I bet you’re building a house for that mutt you’re so fond of.”

This guy’s practically a mind reader now.
“Well, not that fond, but if you’re offering, I can’t say no.”
“Ain, if you’re gonna talk like that, just get out!”
“I’ll take it gratefully! You’re the coolest, uncle~”
“Pfft, you sly kid. Don’t just grab the materials—take the hammer and saw from the corner too.”
“Yessir.”

I nod, quickly clean the shelves and floor, and haul the planks, hammer, and saw out of the storage, grunting under the weight.
Goddamn, this is heavy.

“Looks tough. Want me to carry it?”
“Nah… I’ll manage. A few trips should do it.”
“Hmm, fair enough. It’ll be hard, but doing it yourself’s not a bad idea.”

Even if the uncle’s kind, I can imagine how he’d react to an ashen kid.
So, for now, I resolve to handle this alone, no matter what comes later.

F*ck.
“Ah… life…”

I should’ve just swallowed my pride and asked for help.
Who cares about the stigma against the ashen?
I nearly died out here.

Dropping the last plank with a thud, I collapse onto the plank where the ashen girl sits.
Even in winter, my back’s soaked with sweat, so slumping like this is inevitable.

“Ah…”
“….”

Panting and staring at the sky, her face suddenly blocks it, filling my view.
Her eyes, hazy and unfocused, seem to pierce through me.
Tilting her head, she speaks first.

“You… okay…?”
“I’m fine.”

Her still-slurred but improved pronunciation.
A normal voice, not as cracked as before.
It feels oddly satisfying, and I can’t help but smile faintly.

“…Ah.”

Seeing my smile, the witch widens her eyes and touches my lips.
“….”
“….”

The silence between us, the touch of her skin.
If someone saw this, they might mistake us for lovers, but I can’t help saying,
“You really need to bathe somehow.”

You smell.
Even with my nose numb from the cold, you smell.

“….”

At my words, her wide eyes return to their blank state, and she slowly pulls her hand away.
Her gaze shifts back to the sky.
Between her swaying hair, her ear looks slightly red.

Late afternoon, nearing evening.
Thwack, thwack.
The sound echoes through the alley for a while.

At the scene, I’m hammering away, tilting my head in confusion, having never done this in either life.
“Is this right…?”

It’s taking shape, but even I can tell it’s shoddy and rough.
“Used up most of the planks, but, hmm…”

No materials left to fix mistakes, so I keep going, tilting my head.
It’s roughly a square, with gaps mostly sealed, so…
This counts as a house, right?
“….”
Screw it, I don’t know.
What do you expect from my first try?

With that thought, I grunt and prop up the makeshift plank house, setting it on her plank.
Once upright, it actually seems to block sunlight and wind decently.
“Well… they say nobody’s perfect on their first try. This’ll do for now.”
“…Yeah.”

She nods slowly at my words. I start patching the gaps in the flimsy shelter.
Thwack.
The steady sound continues.
My hands are scratched from mistakes, but I keep hammering.

So the harsh winter wind won’t get through.
So this winter can be a bit warmer.
With a childish wish, I pour effort into this crude, clumsy plank house.

As the sun sets, the thwack finally stops.
At the alley’s edge stands a rough wind-blocking plank structure.
A tattered tarp covers the roof to keep out rain and snow.
Inside, a moldy plank and an old mat.

Gazing at the ashen girl sitting blankly in that scene, I say my usual farewell.
“I’ll come back next time.”
“…Yeah. Thank… you…”

We part with the now-familiar goodbye.
Our monthly meetings end like this, closing another day for both of us.

But my day doesn’t actually end there.
“Good heavens, son! What happened to your hands…?! They’re so hurt!”
“It’s just… kid stuff, playing house or whatever…”
“I can’t deal with this! Wash up and come to the living room. We’ll disinfect, put on ointment, and bandage them. Hmm, this bad, we should go to the hospital tomorrow.”
“I don’t wanna go to the hospital.”
“No arguments!”
“Yessir.”

Unlike with the ashen girl, my day only ends after Mom’s fussing.