The Unrecorded Story
There once was a tiny girl. Gray hair. Gray eyes. Just for that reason alone, she had been abandoned in an alley, waiting only for the day she would die.
She was just a little child. Cast away even though she hadn't committed any sin yet. Sitting quietly in a dim corner of the alley, she blankly awaited death amid the musty, foul stench.
She was the kind of child who would scratch at the wounds from stones thrown by other kids, letting yellow pus trickle down.
That tiny girl, without even a name, always longed for affection. Her emotions were so faint that she didn't crave or yearn for it every moment, but at the very least, she wished for one person to see her as ordinary.
Huddled in the deepest corner of the alley, the girl at that time was only four years old. Still young enough to miss her mother's milk, even if she'd never tasted it. She thought that surely must be true, despite never having experienced it.
Even as blood trickled from stone strikes, the girl believed that.
Summer was so hot it was hard to breathe. Winter was so cold that no amount of curling up could withstand it. And so, the girl began to wonder what meaning there was in surviving like this.
A year passed, then another. The pitiful girl, still unable to leave the alley, stared at her festering wounds. Possessing nothing, she thought it might not be so bad to die pelted by stones like this.
But no child ever threw hard enough to kill her.
"Hey, if you hit her too hard, she'll die! They say if a gray one dies, the curse spreads!"
They threw just hard enough to make her suffer—enough to wound her, to make it hurt and itch. Then they left.
So sometimes she wished even an adult would kill her. But adults looked at her with eyes of contempt, as if they couldn't bear to approach, and walked away.
Even when the girl turned six, that life repeated endlessly. Time flowed on indifferently, heedless of her protests, even as she began to shiver uncontrollably.
Her body, wrapped in rags, was gaunt, and her exposed arms and legs were covered in scars. With no food, she rummaged through trash bins at night.
The foul smell rising from the bins was no issue for her. The alley she lived in always reeked the same way, and the familiar stench actually brought her some comfort.
Opening the lid always sent a few rats scurrying out with a thud. They were prior guests who had eaten first. The silver lining was that unlike humans, they were considerate enough to leave her scraps of spoiled food before fleeing.
So she scooped them up and shoved them into her mouth with a waaang.
It was disgusting, slimy and weird, salty one moment and sour the next. But blankly, she chewed and chewed, swallowing down the rising nausea.
She wanted to die. But she wanted to live just as much.
Her emotions were faint, leaving her with no real desires. But a tiny fragment remained, holding onto one wish.
The girl yearned for human warmth. Instinctively, she sought it out.
She missed her mother, whose face she couldn't even remember. If not her mother, then anyone—just someone to look at her.
Thinking that, she gazed up at the sky. She saw clusters of light etched against the dark, vast curtain. It felt like if she made a wish there, someone might hear it. Staring blankly, she murmured a small, desperate plea.
God existed. Even in a world full of misfortune, surely God existed.
The girl huddled in the alley came to that realization only at the age of nine, thanks to a certain encounter.
"…?"
"…."
There was a girl as small as herself. Black hair. Pale skin. Perhaps even smaller than her, but unlike her, living in the world of the ordinary.
"Are you okay?"
"…."
And that girl asked her this, gazing with pure, clear eyes.
"Your wounds… they look painful."
"…."
But faced with human warmth for the first time, she didn't know how to respond. To be precise, all she'd ever heard were curses and scorn, so she couldn't think of a proper reply.
So she just stared blankly at the girl.
Thud—one step closer.
Thud—another step.
With no answer from the gray girl, the nameless one approached bit by bit, then knelt down nearby.
"Oh… your wounds are bad."
"…."
Examining her body, she scratched her head as if troubled.
It was what she'd longed for so desperately, yet she couldn't comprehend this girl. Why. Why wasn't she throwing stones? Why wasn't she glaring in contempt and leaving?
"Hmm… I think there was some medicine at home…."
"…."
But she couldn't voice those questions. She just hoped this small girl, now standing, would come back and speak to her again someday.
Time passed. The gray girl remained in the alley, and the nameless girl visited her now and then.
"Hi? Is that wound from last time better?"
"…, ah."
She smiled. The girl smiled with pure, untainted joy. Sneaking ointment from her mother, she applied it to the wounds.
"Sorry. I could only bring a little today."
"Ah…. It's, okay…."
When she saw the girl rationing a slightly spoiled sandwich scavenged from a bin, saving it until lunch the next day, she brought food in horror.
That was the first time she understood what "delicious" meant. Delicious wasn't the disgusting chew of slimy weirdness. It wasn't the salty-sour she'd known.
Shoving the offered food into her mouth greedily, she chewed messily, and the girl smiled at her again.
"Eat slowly. I'll bring more next time."
"…."
Gazing at her blankly munching away, she showed pure delight.
It was one day. No, it wasn't just any day.
"You witch! Monster!"
Thwack—
"Ugh, gross!"
It was surely an ordinary day. Everyone hated her except that one girl, so it was familiar.
Thwack—she just took the stones thrown at her.
She no longer questioned it. People had hated, despised, and loathed her since even younger days, so now it felt like everyday routine. She still didn't understand why, but figured there must be a reason.
Even as a stone finally hit her head, drawing blood.
"Whoa! Hit her head!"
Even as the kids cheered at the red droplets hitting the ground.
"Throw more, more!"
The wound hurt and itched, so she scratched, then curled up from another stone. Amid the pain of being pummeled, she thought it would all end soon enough.
But.
"Wh-what are you doing…!"
That day was a little different. The black-haired girl, seeing this scene for the first time, jumped into the fray, yelling at the kids.
Being so pure and innocent, unaware of pushing others aside.
"This… this is bad! You shouldn't do it!"
The untainted little girl just screamed for them to stop.
It would have been better if she'd been a bad kid too, swinging her fists first. If she'd fought back against those rotten kids who charged at her in disbelief and beat her soundly before leaving.
"…, ugh."
"Ar-are you okay…?"
That day, bad luck left them both covered in wounds, abandoned like that.
And yet.
"Yeah… I'm fine. Are you okay? It hurts a lot. I brought ointment… guess we'll apply it together today, haha…."
The girl didn't forget to smile.
After that, with her help, she moved her spot. It was just from one foul-smelling alley corner to the next or beyond, but heading to a new alley with moldy planks and junk wasn't bad.
At least for a few months after moving, no stones came.
She'd thought it was a daily routine she had to endure, but it wasn't. She'd seen the hatred and contempt as inevitable, but she didn't have to take it with her whole body.
"If people keep bullying you, just run away. Don't stand there taking it."
"…, yeah."
She still didn't quite understand why, but nodded. She believed the ordinary girl knew better than she, who couldn't reach the edge of normalcy.
More time passed like that.
"Sorry…. I don't think I can bring food or medicine anymore…."
Until she saw the girl who had helped her arrive in a wretched state.
God existed. But it was a god that desperately wished only for her misery.
The girl huddled in the alley came to think that at fourteen, upon seeing her helper in such a pitiful state.