She locks eyes with Miroku and instantly tries to shorten the gap between the dumpster and herself. Fear radiates from her gaze, even though her scraggly, unkept black hair covers most of her face. Miroku approaches her gently.

"Hello! How are you?" he asks. A small sarcastic smirk plays on the girl's lips, for a moment, before being replaced by a kind of hollow devastation that rips a hole in Miroku's soul for some reason. The girl's eyes reflect all the horrible emotions that could be expressed, blanketed in a deep sadness that Miroku has never seen before, "Where do you live?" he asks, "If it's nearby, I could always drop you off," he continues.

Any pain shown on the girl's face is multiplied as she croaks out a reply, "N-n-no... Th-thank you. I-I'm f-f-fine," she replies, several new cuts forming through her chapped lips and her nose crinkling with the effort of not running away. Her voice is shaken by the cold, which bites far into her bones.

"No, you're not fine," Miroku protests, gathering her state. Her once white shirt is now torn and frayed, the original white colour lost to dirt and grime. Her body is frail, underweight and malnourished. Her fingernails are broken, and in some places growing back through the cuticle, which sickens Miroku to the core. Her face and body is scratched, bloodied, bruised and burned, and he can very clearly see multiple bites from animals and humans, as well as a small tattoo of a butterfly on her waist that has a scar the shape of an 'x' running through it, "No... No, you're really, really not fine at all. I need to help you."

Miroku tries once again to approach the girl and she jumps to her feet, falling down immediately as he hears a deafening crunch from her ankle. She rests her head in her hands and quietly whimpers, so no one else but he can hear, "Help... me... please."

Miroku grasps her arm in a place where there are no injuries and gently helps to stand her up and leads her to his motorcycle. He carefully forms his spare helmet around her tangled hair and buckles it, afraid that any sudden movement could send her running and get her killed. Revving the engine, Miroku pulls out of his parking space and rides at a steady and soft pace to his home.

Once he arrives, he leads the girl to the door of his bedroom, "I'm sorry but," he begins, "my dad can't know that you're here, otherwise he'll completely misunderstand the situation since you and I are a similar age, I think. He'll probably end up killing himself while on a police investigation filled with his own red herrings because of it. So you'll need to stay in my room."

The girls eyes suddenly take on an angry tint as she growls, "I'm not free. You're trapping me. Just like all of my other masters. You're no different. You're going to leave me here to rot until you want to play. Until you make me play. You'll- You'll hurt me," she proclaims. Suddenly her eyes take on a fearful tone stronger than anything Miroku had seen before as she says again, "You'll- You'll hurt me," she drops to her knees and her eyes well up, "No," she pleads, "No. Please. Please. Don't do that. I've been a bad child. I've misbehaved. I know. I'll do better. Just please don't- please don't hurt me," she begins to sob, "Please don't. Please. No. Please. Don't- don't- don't- h-hurt m-m-m-me... Please. Please. Please please please don't. Don't h-hu- hurt me. P-p-please," she begins to wail. Her breathing speeds up. She is going to faint, "Don't hurt me please!" She exclaims, panting and shuddering, "I've been bad, I know- Oh, I know. I know. I know. I kn-know I've been bad. I'll f-f-fix it. I'll fix it! Please! Please! Please! Please! Plea-hease, please please. Please! Plea-ease!"

Her breathing hitches and she dissolves into hysteria, screaming with every breath, every sob, every blink. She has forgotten reality and deludes into images of scenes she had hidden away in her mind long ago. Scenes she could not bare to remember for fear of making herself useless, for if she made herself useless her masters would not be happy. They would be angry. And if they were angry she would be forgotten with the other kids, whose blood still stained the floor from when they left.

Miroku reels her back into reality with a firm but kind hand on her shoulder and a hand under her chin, raising her face to meet his, "I don't know what you're masters did to you before," he begins, "but I am not your master. I will not harm you. My name is Shochikubai Miroku, I am eighteen years old, and I am your friend. Okay?"

"Y-yes," the girl replies shakily as she stands up, leaning on Miroku for support because he said friends did that if other friends were hurt, "I-I'm Natano Tsukiko, I think I remember being a Natano, b-but I'm not sure. I kept track of my age using New Year's Day, so I'm either se-seventeen or eighteen, and I need a friend very badly," a small smile creeps up on Tsukiko's face as Miroku opens his bedroom door.

"There's a blanket and some throw cushions on the couch, so you can sleep there and I'll sleep on the floor like I always do. Okay?" Miroku asks. Tsukiko finds it funny that Miroku cares about her opinion and is willing to give up his luxury for someone like her. She will not say this though, because that would only worry Miroku more, and Tsukiko wants to be anything but a nuisance.