After finishing her breakfast, Robin headed out into the streets. She pulled her hood over her head and strolled along the sidewalk watching as the townspeople began their busy day. They walked until they reached an unusual tent.

Slaves?

She had almost forgotten that this town allowed slaves upon glancing up at the wooden signboard, yet she did not see a single slave walking around town. Curious, she entered the tent only to be invaded by a putrid scent of excrement, pee, and blood.

She instantly frowned, upon seeing the heinous conditions much like the kind seen at slaughterhouses. The rusted cages were barely 2 meters by 2 meters, stacking uniformly on top of other cages as well. She'd rather not imagine what occurred when the urgency to relieve themselves prevailed.

“Welcome, esteemed customers,” a robed man with two dark circles glasses laid on the bridge of his nose greeted. “How may I help you today?” he asked, intending to butter up his potential customer.

“Just looking around,” she quickly replied heading to the end of the tented room.

She noticed a particular youth, especially his long protruding ears and glaring golden eyes. It was hard to determine the color of his hair with all that grime, but it seemed he bared a vigorous hostility to anyone near his vicinity.

Unknowingly Robin seemed to be drawn to this particular slave, walking toward him. He was in such miserable conditions, and slavery more than often would crush weak-willed individuals in accepting their hopeless circumstances. However, his glare became even more menacing as she closed upon him.

“Do you want to be saved?” She paused, confused as to why she would even ask him. Was it something about him that made her drawn to help him, or something else she couldn’t entirely pinpoint.

The slave stiffened in either shock or confusion.

“Do you want to get out of this place?” Robin repeated.

His eyes narrowed in suspicion and shook his head. “How can I be sure you won’t treat me like all the other slaves. I’d be better off dying here than to become another animal for you humans!” he growled, bearing his milky canines.

Robin expectantly sighed. Quite the cliched response. There was no use to reason with another species when humans had obviously caged the youth in this miserable environment. “I never implied making you into my slave like the one you’re referencing to. I nearly gave you the option to live for yourself under a new identity, far away from this hell hole.” Robin reasoned.

“But it has lost its meaning already. I intend to purchase every single slave here, so whether you had agreed or not does not matter.” She said shrugging, changing her mind at that instant. They would be very good citizens, reliable, easily patriotic, and less likely to betray.

Robin turned to the entrance of the tent where the robed owner was grinning at her. “Have you made your decision yet, dear customer?”

“I want to purchase all of these slaves. Furthermore, prepare as many wagons on my behalf for transporting the slaves and bring them to the town gates. I'll pay for the wagons.” She tossed a heavy satchel of gold coins, a few rolled out gleaming under the dim lamplight.

“A hundred thousand should be enough.” The statement was not a question but rather a warning directed towards the owner whose mouth was twitching in a covert fashion.

As if on cue, Ibaraki and Moei’s eyes glinted dangerously their body hidden in the shadow but enough for their silhouette to be eerily made out.

“Y-yes, i-it’s more than enough,” he owner stammered slightly, gulping down the protest. He could feel beads of sweat forming on his brows. His eyes quickly darted between the two dangerous figures behind the black haired woman. In reality, he had planned to raise up the price of the slaves like any other businessman on the block, yet his initial plan had been seen through. However, a hundred thousand worth of gold coins was a reasonable price maybe a little bit more than the actual cost of all his current wares.

He then offered the young woman to sit, as he brought each and every slave to draw up a contract using both party’s blood. She turned her head away, being unable to stand the sight of blood. It made her queasy, the very thought of draining blood from the veins created made her knees weak and light-headed.

Alas when all the contracts had been formed, did Robin let out a big sigh. She took the offered hand and stepped inside the wagon. The passengers of varying races revealed blank looks as if accepting their supposed bleak future.

“Moei, how many health potions and all cure potions do you have on hand?” asked Robin, intending to use them on the slaves. The whip-like scars, burn marks, a few missing limbs, and deformities gave way for Robin’s empathic feelings and a sense of moral responsibility. It was slightly hard to relate, but at least she emphasized but the divide still laid. Her school's teaching and society's decorum were a bliss from the past, making Robin fully realize how easy it was to fall at the very bottom. She took a clear look at them, wondering if death may have been sweet liberation for them.

The living should not envy the dead.

Compared to their initial setting in small contained cages, they sat in a slightly better environment, clean air and open space to spread their limbs. Her shoulders brushed up against another slave; they trembed at the sudden contact and a flash of fear across their face as if she had smited them.

“Moei has 500 health potions and 300 all cure potions, Master.” They brunette took them out of her inventory, all neatly lined up and held in a wooden crate. Robin ripped her attention away from the fellow slave turning to ask why she had a tremendous amount of potions.

“Moei knows Master likes drinking health potions, so she brought some along,” she simply explained, as if it was normal.

Ha...she misdirected my coping mechanism as something I enjoyed…

“Quickly bring them out and give them it to them to take,” she pointed at the slaves. A few turned to give looks of confusion and worried glances. “Don’t worry, they’ll heal your wounds and scars. Please drink these at my request,” Robin gently ushered them to consume the two potions as she handed them out.

One courageous slave, with trembling fingers, removed the glass cork and move to swallow the deep red liquid before repeating onto the magenta colored potion. As slave finished, the scab on their eyes slowly healed at a visible rate, the first layer of dead skin falling off of his face while the surrounding skin receded before shriveling into big flakes of dead skin cells. With unsteady hands, the slave carefully touched where should have been his right eye and nearly choked out in joy as his vision slowly came back.

“T-thank y-you! T-thank y-you Master!” the slave cried out, Robin grabbing onto his shoulders before he intended to kowtow.

Robin provided him a small smile for his comfort, “There’s no need to thank me. I am responsible for you after all. By the way, what is your name?”

“O-Orion, Master,” he managed to stutter out. As he sat down, he found it difficult to keep his legs from trembling even with a firm grasp on his knee. He left hand to clutch the worn rag where his heart palpitated loudly, so loudly he could hear it drumming against his ears. An unfamiliar sensation rushed through his body that seemed to make him light and airy in a good way. It led him to ponder over the familiar yet distant feeling as if he were reuniting with his longtime friend.

He was not alone, as he scanned around the inner wagon. Where the missing limbs were noticeable, scars that remained till a dog’s death, or the deformities committed from atrocious experiments, their new Master was benevolent enough to help treat lowly slaves.

Like a dam broken through, tears streamed down their faces. Their cries could be heard from the outside as signs of sorrow, but only they knew they it was the cry of a long dormant renascence awaiting to arise from their hearts.