A Story Hoped to Be Recorded
Around the time Ain turned thirteen. On days when he wasn't at the grocery store, the woman was a touch more curt and mechanical than usual.
"…Welcome. Thank you for visiting Illeina's Grocery."
But she greeted customers at the counter in a way that was strikingly different from before. Now proficient in polite speech, she treated them with refined courtesy. Time had slimmed down her baby fat, revealing a more delicate, tapered face. Yet her feminine curves had become even more pronounced, impossible to hide even under simple clothes.
"Thank you. We hope you'll visit Illeina's Grocery again."
There was even a subtle air of elegance in the way she slightly bowed her head to customers as they took their groceries and turned to leave.
And when the occasional creep pestered her like in the old days?
"I'm sorry, but unnecessary conversations are not allowed inside the grocery store."
She'd shut them down firmly. Of course,
"Uncle, help."
if someone ignored her refusal, she'd immediately call for help.
These were visible changes, plain as day. The woman had grown, gradually learning to control her emotions around people. She didn't want to cause trouble for Ain or Uncle. She wanted to be helpful to those who aided her without asking for anything in return. She hoped never to err again, practiced polite speech diligently, and gritted her teeth to keep her feelings steady amid crowds.
"Next customer."
At night, when tension eased and emotions leaked out, she'd have to cut her forearms or thighs to hold them back—but she liked this version of herself.
Because of this process, she believed she'd become somewhat normal. She thought she was turning into someone who could stand beside Ain, that she could stay by his side and live like a person.
Past noon, after the lunch rush ended, she rose from the counter, straightened her clothes, grabbed a coin pouch, hefted a large basket, and turned to Uncle.
"Uncle, I'll be back."
"…You sure you're okay with this?"
She nodded matter-of-factly at his worry-filled question. It was her first time going out alone, but she'd wandered the market streets with Ain countless times, so she figured she could handle a simple errand.
"I'm fine. I can find my way."
"Alright, sorry to bother you with this. Be careful. Always watch out for people."
"Yes, don't worry."
With that, basket in hand, she stepped out of the grocery store.
A day without Ain. At Uncle's request, the woman headed to the market to buy what they needed.
The market street. Contrary to Uncle's concerns, the errand was quite easy. The store was already on the market street, so no long trek was needed.
"Tissues we need right away, and… the broken ingredient container, bought…."
These were shops she'd seen countless times following Ain, so she just had to approach, state what was needed, and buy them one by one. Dododo—
"Three bags of candy, he said… that should be the shop beyond that alley…."
Still illiterate, she murmured to herself what Uncle had told her verbally, weaving through the crowd.
"Three bags of candy… three bags of candy."
As she walked muttering, gazes concentrated on her like at the store. It was unavoidable—her striking looks drew people's attention.
"…Three bags of candy."
In the past, such stares alone would have churned her stomach, forcing her to clench her fists to endure. But now, she took a breath and pressed on. Her steps quickened, cold sweat beaded on her palms, but overcoming it with just that was huge progress for her.
Finally, the candy shop. She entered, about to ask for three bags straightaway, but
"Welcome! Oh? Ah, the young lady from the grocery store! Here for candy?"
"…."
She swallowed hard at the unexpected variety. Wouldn't it be right to bring back the most delicious, popular ones? she rationalized inwardly. It was an impulsive act, possible only because Ain wasn't there to stop her.
"…Give me ten each of the most delicious and popular kinds here."
"Haha! Just a moment."
Before long, she was nibbling samples from the shopkeeper.
Time passed. Satisfied from her brief indulgence, she selected one bag each of three kinds.
"How much?"
"Since you come often with Ain, I'll deduct what you ate. Three bags—120 dera."
She nodded at the shopkeeper's words, handed over 120 dera. He pocketed it and placed the bags in her basket.
"Thank you. Goodbye."
She greeted him and turned to leave. One more stop, and the errand would be done. She'd wasted time on candy, so she'd buy the rest quickly and return.
But
"Ah, right, miss."
"Yes?"
The shopkeeper called her back.
"Do you read the newspaper or anything…?"
"Ah, um. No."
She shook her head, puzzled by the sudden question.
"The news says the world's getting rough lately. Best not wander alone—stick with that Ain kid. Just being nosy."
"…Yes, I will."
It seemed like simple concern, so she replied politely and left.
Thus, she headed to the last shop. It wasn't strictly for the store—Uncle had craved certain food, telling her to grab plenty while out.
She stopped at a bustling eatery, ordered two packed bowls, and sat quietly.
Truth be told, she still hated crowds. The murmurs, the stares pinning her down—they felt like assaults on her emotions, forcing multiple deep breaths.
Yet she mingled deliberately, for Ain's sake. To become more normal, she threw herself into the fire.
Thus, enduring the stares, she waited as if unperturbed.
And then.
A word reached her ears as she sat, waiting impatiently for her food.
Gray.
That single word halted her slight fidgeting. Sharper than the din, it pierced her ears, stirring her calm emotions—thud, thud.
"Paper says the neighboring kingdom hunted down grays and burned them."
"How'd they find those well-hidden bastards?"
Thinking back, that was probably what the candy shopkeeper meant to hint at.
"Kingdom's sword saint led a big purge. Probably spotted during the search. They say higher-ups can recognize grays."
"Makes sense. Guess the Holy Kingdom's sending paladins next."
"Bet it'll hit the papers soon. Need purification after the ash settles."
He'd spared her the gruesome details, just calling it "rough times."
Strangers had no such courtesy, blurting it outright. Common rumors, spread from newspaper scraps.
Such talk circulated endlessly in markets—not today alone. A certain man always guarded her ears, so she'd never heard it before.
"Dunno why they keep popping up, but gotta root 'em out and kill 'em."
"Tsk tsk, bad luck piles up. What're the gods doing…?"
"Hey, don't blaspheme. Gods hold 'em back, so only a few spawn."
The raw hate and contempt she'd been shielded from by Ain now flooded her ears without him.
Gray. Gray hair. Gray eyes.
In truth, as a child, she hadn't known they were despised. No one threw stones saying, It's your fault. Glances of contempt came without curses.
She just thought herself a worthless alley orphan, unworthy even of parents' gaze.
She dimly realized the truth after meeting Ain—during the hero's send-off or festival, when he always pulled her robe low over her head.
Now in clean clothes, body washed to reveal pale skin, she wasn't seen as an alley rat—yet he insisted: Never remove the robe. Never let go of my hand.
She tilted her head but obeyed. Walking crowds, she noticed: black hair, brown eyes; blonde, blue; red, black. Amid common colors, only hers was gray.
Not oblivious, she pieced it together following him.
Thus, when he gifted the necklace hiding her hair and eyes, stepping out robed-free for the first time—seeing no hate gazes felt unfair, heartbreaking.
Just two colors changed, yet she blended into normalcy. Sad. Blushes and glances replaced contempt—unfathomable.
Nothing else differed. Hair and eyes alone, same as before.
"At least the Empire's fine for now."
"Who knows? Could be nearby. They hide well—only higher-ups spot 'em."
She strove tenfold to be good, yet raw hate seeped in after mere moments out.
The world still called her monster. Whispered grays must pay. Would be exposed eventually. Drag Ain to the pyre too.
Better vanish alone and die, it murmured.
Why? Why flee without sin? Hide like criminal sans crime?
Why so harsh to her alone?
Such thoughts inflamed her emotions, turning crowds repulsive, stomach churning. Self-loathing spiraled into despair.
Yet she clenched fists, nails drawing blood—drip, drip—to endure, lest she hated by Ain.
She knew ash in public would waste his efforts. Betray Uncle's care.
Her red blood dripped, soaking the floor.
She'd changed, unchanged. Efforts made, but core unaltered. Necklace hid, yet essence gray. Still a beast endangering all when emotions surged.
Voices echoed relentlessly: Gray. Gray hair. Horrors. Kill 'em all. Serves 'em right, damned things.
Hallucination? Real? Hate turned self-hate delusion? Mere newspaper scorn?
She couldn't tell.
And as she barely held on, others noticing her oddity, soft hands covered her ears.
"Hey, grannies! Kid here's—watch what you say! Here to eat tasty stuff, so shut it and stuff your faces!"
The shout pierced despite the cover. For her sake, yet unfamiliar voice.
Arms embraced from behind, face unseen. But the warmth was kind, soothing her thudding emotions.
Lips neared her ear, gentle voice:
"You okay?"
"…."
"Don't listen to anything."
A voice she'd heard—years ago, not recent. Etched in memory from a winter scene.
When tiny-boy Ain tossed old clothes to shivering gray girl and left.
Son, let's go home.
Ain's worried mother. Son, listen to Mom…! This isn't okay! Anxious as he neared the alley girl. Son, stay away! Finally laced with hate like others.
She remembered clearly, recognizing the voice. Tremors wracked her.
Ain's mother. Who despised, feared gray her.
"It's okay."
Who hated her like other adults.
"No one says that anymore."
Her hand sparked fear from touch.
"Come on. Follow me."
Anxiety peaked; she turned.
Unlike then, gentle smile met her.
Kindness, yet terrifying. Pure aid from ignorance? Hate upon truth? Ain's parents too—prayed not.
Different emotion crept; she bowed head, avoiding eyes.
Behind the passing pair, red drops trailed—drip, drip.
Thus escaped the crowd. Held by comforting hand, to quiet street.
Ain's mother said nothing en route. Just led, hand clasped, back visible.
Why help? What to say? Doubts swirled, unspoken. Feared unwanted reply; stared at joined hands.
Steps halted; she turned, but head stayed low.
"…."
"…."
Mother pondered words, silent gaze fueling dread of discovery. Begone from Ain? Could she deny? Reach for him?
Not anger—fear, sadness boiled. Precious to him, closer than her. Like child self craving mother, she bowed mutely.
Time passed; voice came.
"Hm, shall we introduce ourselves? I'm Rain."
"…."
Ordinary, light—shattering dread.
"What's your name?"
Simple greeting for strangers.
No name yet for her.
"I… don't have a name…."
"…Ah. S-sorry. Auntie messed up. R-right. You're the kid working with Ain at the grocery, yeah…?"
"Yes…."
Her reply flustered the other; awkward air flowed in solitude.
Rain broke it.
"Th-that… um. Yeah. Your hand okay? Saw lots of blood earlier."
"…F-fine."
Lie—nails tore deep, blood dripping. Magic could heal instantly, but not before Ain's mom. Ash would horrify, make her recoil.
Hide hand, claim fine. To seem good.
Silence again; she prayed for end. Feared hate words breaking her; head bowed, eyes down.
Rain smiled bitterly at her fear-filled eyes.
"…Yeah. Hurry back and treat it. Sorry for holding you."
"Yes…."
Hesitant, more to say—but farewell. She whirled to flee.
Hoped no words chased the runaway.
She distanced.
"Get along with Ain."
"…."
"He's so lacking—hope you'll help him, Auntie does."
"…Ah."
Not dreaded kind.
"…Back then."
Knew her truth, remembered gray.
"I was sorry."
"…."
Clear even afar.
Turned; "We'll get along from now on, right?" Rain smiled bittersweet, apologetic.
Thus.
The woman.
"…."
No. I answer.
"Yes."
"…."
"I'm not fool enough to forget my savior."
Healing bloody hand gray,
I met his mother's eyes, bowed head.
Always thought: Become useful to Ain. Not burden to my helper.
If unchanging self harms him,
Better die alone.
That's what I think.