The loss of his parents was sudden and shocking, the horrible tragedy leaving Tasuku alone and afraid. His mother and father had always stressed that, if he needed help, go to the city. But he had lost his house in the disaster as well, and any money he could’ve used to board the train; and with nothing but the clothes on his back and his parents’ words, Tasuku began the long trek through the forest in the direction he hoped the city was.
When he finally arrived in Kairos, days later, he was starving and exhausted. A kind passerby had been gracious enough to bring him food, water and fresh clothes, but that was the extent they had been able to give. At least, it was something to keep him going. He figured, perhaps idealistically, he would be able to take care of himself after that.
He had to learn how. That horrible feeling of helplessness and despair… Tasuku never wanted to feel it again.
A month and a half had passed since then, Tasuku doing what he could to make a living in the bustling city. He ran from small shop to small shop, offering whatever help a nine year-old could. If he was lucky, he was given small change or food for his troubles. But only if the shopkeepers had anything to spare for a little street rat like him.
If he wasn’t lucky, then Tasuku would never ask for anything more. To help someone, to make someone happy, would be to offer his aid without expecting anything in return. That’s what the young boy believed.
Still… It was getting harder and harder to ignore the growing ache of hunger.
Trying to navigate the busy streets with a towering bag of goods that was far too big for his little arms to bear without falling was proving to be a challenging feat, but Tasuku was determined to do this right. It had been the first time this particular shopkeeper had trusted Tasuku with money, and he didn’t want to let him down.
He had been able to carry on without incident, at least, until he was a block away from the store, when a few punks had begun to tail him. Trying to ignore them and avoid eye contact, Tasuku only began walking faster, but his ploy to get away was thwarted when one of them approached and stepped into his path.
“Hey, kid… Nice stuff ya got there. You wanna share with big brother?”
“U-um…” He looked up at the towering individual, shrinking away. “Sorry… This is for someone else–”
But the punk only guffawed, reaching over and smacking the bag out of his little hands. It tore open on the cement, spilling its contents all over. Some eggs shattered in their carton, milk pouring onto the street, and an expensive porcelain bowl broke to pieces as it crashed onto the ground.
And Tasuku could only watch with a sinking heart as the men rooted through the bag for anything that could be salvaged…
“N-no… Wait! Stop! Please–!”
Rushing forward and grabbing hold of one of their coats, he was only shoved aside roughly, falling hard to the ground. His palms and knees were already blistering and burning, but he absolutely refused to give in. Again and again, he rushed the rowdy thugs, only to be beaten aside each time until they had finally had enough and began to turn on him instead.
“This kid’s so annoying…!”
“C’mon, let’s teach’im to respect his elders…”
And it was only then when the boots and fists began to beat at him did he cower away, shielding his face as best as he could from blow after blow after blow. It hurt… It hurt so much–everything hurt. And he couldn’t do anything about it.
He was completely powerless.
