Wounds at the Awkward Age of Ten
The children who used to throw stones at her while she moved to a new place still couldn't find the girl. Yet on her hidden forearms and thighs, there were fresh scars that weren't too old.
"…."
Traces appeared little by little, day after day, only in places where the boy named Ain was unlikely to see them.
If asked whether it was someone's bullying, it wasn't—but if asked again, it was.
"Ain."
I miss you.
"Ain."
I wish this month would pass quickly.
"Ain."
I don't want to be alone.
Ain.
There was a gray-haired girl whispering those words toward the sky like that. Gray emotions were always precarious, swelling up in an instant. They were too overwhelming for a young girl to handle alone. As time passed and she approached the turning point of her gray nature, those emotions grew more intense.
"Ain."
To hold back the overflowing torrent, the girl pressed her nails hard into her forearms and thighs. Only after blood flowed and wounds formed did her emotions finally settle, allowing her a sigh of relief. Overwhelmed and confused by the deepening hues of her feelings, she made that choice. Unable to think of a proper way to suppress the flood, she quelled it with self-inflicted pain.
She had told the boy she was fine, that she could wait longer. But the sight of her trembling and bleeding suggested otherwise. Still, the girl thought to herself: Be a good child. I have to be a good child. To avoid being abandoned by him, she had to face him as a good, good child. If she let these bottled-up emotions spill out, he would surely run away. Better the familiar pain she'd known since childhood.
"Ain."
I'm still waiting.
"Ain."
I can keep waiting.
"…, Ain."
So don't abandon me.
Autumn. When the season of harvesting crops arrived, the empire's citizens bustled about. For the Harvest Thanksgiving Festival—a celebration everywhere— they couldn't hide their excitement, stepping out drunk on the atmosphere.
It was a joy that had started before I was five and continued through every autumn up to my tenth year. Now, it was something I uttered as naturally as breathing. Everyone smiled happily, except for the one gray-haired girl. And I did too.
The annual autumn festival was always fun, its multi-day vibe stirring the heart. Even reading about it in words had seemed beautiful; seeing it in person added an itchier thrill. I'd slip into the crowd unawares, savoring it with a grin. But of course, there was a subtle bitterness to it.
Rationalizing that the witch had to be left in the alley. Her waving hand, saying she was fine while staring only at me from that alley. From the days of my dazed head-tilts to now, when I smiled with feeling—it was bittersweet, making my chest oddly uncomfortable. But I'd brush it all off with the excuse that there was no choice.
Every autumn before and after meeting her had been like that.
"Ain."
"…."
But.
"Have fun and come back."
"…."
Human emotions are never constant. The girl waved casually as if it were natural, sending me off—and it shook me. Seeing her still gazing only at me, smiling that way, stirred me again.
"…, Let's go together this time."
"Huh…?"
I made an emotional choice even I couldn't understand.
"You wanna see the festival too, right?"
"C-Can I go…?"
I grabbed her wrist and pulled her along.
"You can."
"…, For real?"
Her lips curved up in joy, her eyes trembling in anxiety. Unsure how to express it, she kept asking. I nodded.
"You wanna see it, right? Let's go."
"…, Yeah."
Suppressing the new anxiety this choice brought, I smiled and said it.
"Thanks…."
Her innocent smile turned toward me. So.
The gray that everyone called ominous could light up the festival too. The girl, who hadn't committed any sin yet, deserved to enjoy it. If it was a festival where everyone was happy, then she—who smiled even brighter at my simple invitation—deserved to slip into the scenery and be happy.
Others might disagree. But as an extra without an assigned role, as the one who'd made myself her watcher, I wanted to say she did.
The Harvest Thanksgiving Festival began as the sun set. When the sky turned a vivid purple and darkened, the citizens' decorations glowed brighter.
"Keep that robe hood up tight so it doesn't slip, got it?"
"Yeah. I'll keep it on good."
I gripped the hand of the hooded girl and stepped into the crowded festival street. Our small footsteps joined the beautiful scene I'd always admired. Boom— Fireworks launched simultaneously, declaring the festival's start.
"Ah…."
The girl stared blankly at it. I'd wondered what she'd feel seeing scenes she'd never known in her life born and raised in hiding, but I didn't need to ask. Her hand in mine loosened as the colors spread, captivating her. Her eyes, fixed on me before reaching the street, now alternated between the exploding sky and the endless stalls.
I gripped her hand tighter.
"Don't let go."
"Ah…."
I wanted to let her soak in the atmosphere, but this world cruelly denied her happiness. There was a forceful pull toward misfortune. Relieved she seemed to like it, I still had to watch in this crowd—lest her hand slip, her robe fall, drawing hateful stares. Adults might keep distance, but kids would approach, throwing stones and mocking. Then the imperial guards would come, dragging us away.
It sounded like a common fantasy, but it could become reality. So I held tight to that hand peeking from her robe's edge. The robe hid her identity, but without the perception-lowering magic covering her gray hair and eyes, it was just ordinary.
So.
I pressed down her hood, her expression sinking apologetically, and headed where the crowd thinned. We could enjoy the festival without being caught. At least today, she'd laugh and revel like everyone else.
Thinking that, I moved toward things she'd like.
The festival's heat was beautiful from afar, but up close, it grew dizzyingly chaotic.
"Skewers hot off the grill for just 20 dera! Two for 30!!"
"Fruit shaved ice here!! Hey, pretty lady! Come now for a discount!!"
Merchants shouted from the long row of stalls.
"Mooom! Buy me this!! I want it!!"
"How many times do I have to say no? We have it at home!"
Kids whined with their moms. Or cheers nearly like roars erupted from nearby performances. Woooaaah—
Familiar to me from years of experience, but not to her, it seemed.
"A-Ain…."
She'd been gawking curiously moments ago, but now clung to my back, overwhelmed by the crowd's heat. Almost hugging me from behind. Feeling her hands tremble on my waist,
I didn't say to back off. Instead:
"Anything you wanna eat? Let's grab it and go somewhere quieter."
"S-Something to eat…."
Her half-lowered head lifted, sniffing around quickly. Not a dog, but turning her head by scent—it was odd. Soon her gaze fixed on one spot.
"Can I try that?"
"Ah…, yeah. Let's get that."
I nodded and headed to her choice. Not really food—more a snack.
"Mister, two cotton candies please."
"Haha! Sure, two for 20 dera! Just a sec, I'll whip 'em up!"
The gray girl had stared longingly at the pale, cloud-like cotton candy.
She loved sweets—I'd brought candy since she was little. Each monthly visit, she'd rummage my basket for it.
And such a she:
"Ah…!"
Watched intently as cotton candy formed from nothing. The vendor twirled the stick, and her head followed. He couldn't see her face under the hood but laughed at her cuteness, twirling more dynamically. Her head bobbed whoosh-whoosh—small-animal-like. Like one fixated on jiggling food.
"Hahaha! What a cute kid! Here's your cotton candy!"
A big cloud chunk thrust out.
"Wooow…."
She held it preciously, eyes sparkling between me and it.
"Let's go."
"Yeah…."
As I'd said before. Gray had its own brilliance. Hidden under the robe, it still sparkled with emotion.
I led the excited cotton-candy holder to a building rooftop. Gripping my hand totter-totter, her eyes stayed glued to it. If I looked away briefly, the cloud shrank bit by bit.
By the rooftop:
"…."
"Eat mine too."
Just an empty stick left; she stared blankly. I chuckled and handed her mine.
"H-Huh, can I…?"
"Yeah, it's fine."
I didn't like sticky sweets anyway, so to her expectant gaze.
And predictably, her eyes followed it.
"…, Thanks."
Her smile and thanks were aimed at the cotton candy. Cute, but oddly like losing to a snack.
"Wooow…."
Chewing airless fluff busily dispersed even that with a chuckle.
Anyway.
Night fell; from the roof, streetlights and surging citizens filled the view. We'd stepped away to breathe, but wanted to rejoin as part of the scene. The kid extra and gray-bearing girl shining on a protagonist-less stage. Saying we extras didn't want pathetic deaths ending ordinary lives. Vowing to escape assigned roles for new lives. Recalling that resolve again.
But I kept it inside. Treating her like anyone:
"Festival fun?"
"Yeah…, fun."
Her now clear pronunciation as I watched.
"What next?"
"I-I wanna watch that show over there…."
She eyed me and the scene expectantly; I nodded.
"Sure. Rest a bit, then go."
"Yeah."
Her smile bloomed; she sidled closer. I smiled back.
The festival stretched on.
And we filled it.