The air in the marketplace was thick with heat and dust, the sun beating down mercilessly on the rows of makeshift stalls. It smelled of sweat and misery, a place where the unfortunate were reduced to nothing more than property. People milled about, indifferent to the suffering around them. It was a place of cruelty, where the strong took pleasure in dominating the weak.
A 7 year old Jun was seen in a filthy makeshift stall with other gilrs around her age on the display for anyone who had enough money to buy them.
Her hair was matted and she wore a tattered dress, the fabric torn from countless attempts to escape. Her small frame was littered with fresh bruises and old scars, evidence of the beatings she endured for her defiance.
Jun had been trying to escape for as long as she could remember. She fought back whenever she could, biting, kicking, scratching—anything to get away. But every time, they dragged her back, beating her harder, punishing her for her rebellion.
They hated her stubbornness, hated that she refused to break like the others. She had killed one of the guards once, her tiny hands gripping a sharp piece of glass she had found, plunging it into his neck when he wasn't looking. The blood had sprayed everywhere, and for a moment, Jun thought she had won.
But they had caught her before she could run. She remembered their screams of rage, their hands grabbing at her hair, pulling her back. The punishment had been severe—more severe than any beating she had endured before.
They had thrown her into the dirt, kicking her until she thought her ribs would snap. The men and women of the market had laughed as they watched, taking pleasure in her suffering. She was defiant, but she was still just a child, powerless against their cruelty.
Her owners were eager to sell her now. She was more trouble than she was worth, they said. Too rebellious, too difficult to control. Today, she was up for sale, standing on display with the other slaves, her eyes hollow as she looked out at the crowd.
The voices around her blended into a distant hum, merchants shouting, bargaining for higher prices. She felt like a ghost, detached from her own body. There was no escape. Every time she had tried, they had beaten her down harder, and now she didn't have the strength left to fight.
Suddenly a merchant approached Jun, his greedy eyes scanning her from head to toe, his lips curling into a sinister grin. The owners stood beside him, rubbing their hands in anticipation. "This one's special," one of them said, his voice thick with eagerness. "She'll serve you well if you know how to handle her."
The merchant crouched down, bringing his face uncomfortably close to Jun's. "A good product indeed," he whispered, the words dripping with malice and he had a creepy smile.
He reached out to brush her face, but before his fingers could touch her, Jun's lips twisted into a smirk. Without warning, she spat in his face, the spit landing squarely on his cheek.
The merchant retreated back as his expression changed in an instant, his grin dissolving into pure fury. His face flushed red as he wiped the spit away with a trembling hand. The owners gasped, eyes wide with shock. "You little wretch!" one of them shouted, his voice shaking with anger and disbelief. "Do you know what you've just done?!"
Jun glared at them, her eyes blazing with defiance. "I know exactly what I did," she spat back, her voice sharp and fearless. "You're all disgusting pieces of shit."
The merchant's face contorted with rage, veins bulging in his neck. "This one thinks she's above her place," he growled. "I'll teach her where she belongs." He stood up, his frame towering over her, and without hesitation, he raised his hand high, ready to strike her down with full force.
Suddenly, the air seemed to shift. A murmur went through the crowd, and people began to step back, their eyes widening with fear. At first, they didn't understand what was happening.
A man strode into the market, his presence commanding the space in a way that no one else could. He was tall, muscular, and wild-looking, with dark, unkempt hair and a look in his eyes that promised violence.
His clothes were simple, worn from battle, but there was something primal about him, something that made the air grow heavy with tension. This man wasn't here to buy or sell. He was here to destroy.
It was Mousa, though Jun didn't know his name then. He was in his 20s, a reckless force of nature who lived for the thrill of battle. There was nothing refined about him, no subtlety or restraint. He was a monster, and he was angry.
"You lot are bunch of shameless beings, which makes it perfect for me to kill you all with no remorse!" Mousa shouted.
Without a word, Mousa began to move through the marketplace, his fists swinging with brutal efficiency. The first man who tried to stop him went down with a single punch, his skull cracking against the ground.
Another man lunged at him with a knife, but Mousa caught his arm and twisted it until the bone snapped with a sickening sound. Screams filled the air as more men tried to fight him, but it was pointless. Mousa was unstoppable, plowing through the guards and slavers like they were nothing.
Bodies fell one after another, blood splattering the ground as Mousa tore through the marketplace. His fists were like hammers, each punch lethal, each movement driven by a fury that couldn't be contained.
The stalls were overturned, cages shattered, and the people who had come to buy slaves fled in terror. The marketplace descended into chaos, but Mousa didn't stop. He kept going, his rage unrelenting.
Jun silently watched, she didn't scream and run away like the others. She just stared with no emotion as the Mousa was rampaging the market. As Mousa destroyed everything, there was nothing left and he prepared to leave.
But then, Mousa saw Jun.
He walked toward her makeshift stall heavy boots crunching on the dirt and debris. Jun's heart pounded in her chest, but she didn't move. She was too tired, too broken. If this was how it ended, then so be it.
Mousa stopped in front of her, towering over her small form. He looked down at her with eyes that were still wild, still burning with the heat of battle. For a moment, he seemed to dismiss her, as if she were nothing more than a curiosity, something unworthy of his attention. But then, something shifted in his gaze.
Jun didn't flinch, didn't look away. She met his gaze, her eyes defiant despite everything. She wasn't afraid of him.
"What are you looking at" Jun said coldly.
Mousa narrowed his eyes, intrigued. He had expected fear—everyone else had run, cowered, screamed. But this girl… she was different. She didn't scream. She didn't run. Instead She just stared back at him and talked to him with fierceness that caught him off guard.
"You've got guts, kid," he said as he was heading out of the market. He then stopped. "Well I'm out. You coming or what?"
Jun looked at Mousa with surprise. She didn't expect this.
Mousa then continued walking away. Jun looked at him. She was reluctant at first but decided to follow him...
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Mousa and Jun arrived at the shelter. They were greeted with smiles from the people there and there was warm atmosphere. It was a first for Jun. She never experienced this. And she didn't know nobody here and nobody knew her. So why were they nice to her.
"Welcome back, Mousa," a woman said, her voice kind and gentle. "And who's this you've brought with you?"
"This is Jun," Mousa said simply, gesturing toward her. "She's going to be staying with us"
The woman's face softened as she stepped closer, her smile warm and inviting. She had a gentle presence, the kind that immediately made others feel at ease. "Hello, darling, I hope you feel at home here." She said with a smile
"I'm Miss Akane, by the way," she continued, her tone soft but full of energy. "If you need anything at all—food, a place to rest, or even just someone to talk to—don't hesitate to ask."
Jun stood there, blinking, unsure of how to respond. She had never been greeted with such warmth before. Her life had been one filled with scorn, mistrust, and cruelty. The people around her always had some agenda, some form of dominance or violence behind their actions.
But these people…they were smiling, and not in the same way the cruel merchants or slavers smiled. There was no malice, no expectation of something in return.
As they continued walking through the shelter, more people waved at her, nodded in acknowledgment, or simply offered a smile as if she were one of them.
"Hey, welcome!" a young man called out as they passed. "You hungry? Dinner's almost ready!"
Jun didn't know how to respond. She kept asking herself why were they so nice to her? No one here knew who she was or where she came from. And they didn't care either. She was just a stranger, but they treated her as if she already belonged.
Her eyes darted nervously between the people. She felt her guard rising instinctively, preparing herself for something harsh to follow this unexpected kindness. There had to be some kind of catch—some demand or condition.
Mousa, sensing her discomfort, patted her head. "You'll get used to it," he said quietly, giving her a small, understanding smile. "This is what home feels like."
Jun stared at him for a moment, unsure how to process his words. Home? She didn't know what that was. The word felt foreign on her tongue.
But as she looked around at the faces full of warmth and welcome, a small, tentative part of her dared to wonder if maybe—just maybe—she could belong somewhere after all.