Few and too many eyes follow the orphan children of the Rukongai, though many are generally focused on the more boisterous gangs that run wild through the streets, protected by their numbers and solidarity to an extent. For every child caught red-handed with something they’ve stolen there are always two or three who contribute successfully, keeping the pack fed as they rove.
The watchers less commonly eye the loners, simply for the fact that their silence and caution makes them more difficult to spot in the first place. Rei finds her tiny stature (literally and metaphorically) a comforting thing at times. When eyes slide away carelessly and muscles relax–that’s when she can take what is life-giving, be it water or food or even clothing if she must. After that it’s her turn to run wild, treasures clutched tight to a tiny breast as her victims yell or chase after her. Thankfully, few around these parts are ever inclined to help whomever she’s stolen from.
The markets aren’t very crowded today, both a blessing and a curse: without so many, the dust and stench are kept at tolerable levels, her eyes squinted only a little under the sunlight beating down. As a curse, though, there’s less going on to distract her marks and allow her an opening.
From the safety of the rooftops, her eyes alight on a fierce looking man, and despite her youth she can immediately guess what he is, doubly so with the meaner looking characters hanging close to him.
But oh, the treasures he carries. Food enough to last her a week or more, provided she could haul it off and keep it safe–and therein lies the challenge. A plan is formulated, and she slips from the rooftop, tiny fingers clenching reflexively at the test she’s about to put herself to. Does she really dare steal from someone who’s possibly an important yakuza? The way her stomach clings to her spine and cramps tells her she doesn’t have any better options.
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