My friend SilverZephyr has found a few Simoun doujin and shared them with me. I was really intrigued by the Within the Tangled Webs doujin and the images that were a different take on Aaeru's past. I have no idea what says, though I'd greatly love to (and would gladly compensate anyone who would translate it). By now, many of you know I can't resist a good character torture. I decided to do an alternate take on Aaeru's past that is different from the one I've already done. Please note that this story does not belong in the Life and Times of Young Aaeru series. It's merely an alternate take that does fit in canon as far as that goes. There will be 3 parts to this. It sort of...grew. I'm almost finished chapter 2 and about ready to begin chapter 3 so I shall post this a chapter a day.

She hid quietly against the stacked crates. If she was quiet enough, perhaps she'd be left alone for some time. She pulled the blanket tighter around her neck. It was scruffy and holey, but it kept her warm. If she had known the words for it, she would have considered it to be her security blanket. She wouldn't know what security was; she had been alone for so long, for as long as her small mind could remember. She didn't know what it was to have a mother or father. She didn't know what those names meant.

A chill breeze blew and she curled into herself. She felt her stomach rumble, but she didn't have any food. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten; it was probably yesterday. She'd had pieces of stale bread and then drank water from a puddle. It'd made her stomach nauseous afterward, but she hadn't been thirsty after that. Dull green eyes chanced to peek out from behind her makeshift shelter. A loud cackle of laughter sent her pressing back against the crates again. She knew she shouldn't go out, but she was so hungry. Perhaps if she waited—

"What are you doing back here, kid?" snarled someone.

Aaeru glanced up. She couldn't see the face of the man, but she could smell the reek. She started shaking; confrontation would never go well. She chose not to reply. He might go away if he thought she wouldn't reply.

"Hey kid, I asked you a question." He snatched her by her arm and pulled her up. She wasn't very heavy and so he easily lifted her high into the air. She held tightly to the blanket. It was all she had and she wouldn't lose it.

"L-lemme go…" she tried to say, but it came out as a string of mumbles.

"What's that kid? I didn't hear you." She heard the laughter. He was by himself. He didn't seem really old, but what made things worse. If they weren't old, they wouldn't leave you alone.

"Put her down," called a gruff voice. It wasn't a voice she had heard around here before.

Apparently, the man accosting her hadn't either. He turned quickly, and she felt her back hit against the tall crates. She bit her lip to keep from crying out; she wouldn't draw attention like that. Silent tears streaked down her face, and she tasted something in her mouth. Blood. That coppery metallic taste she had no words for.

"Go away old man," retorted the one who held her.

"Let the child go." It was a stern command, and she could hear the anger in his voice. Fear clinched around her heart. Was he trying to get rid of the person who had her, so he could take her? She began looking for ways to escape. As soon as he put her down, she'd make a run for it. There had to be a place where she'd be safe for the night.

"No I—" The sound of hitting. Anger. Caught by surprise, he dropped her and she hit the ground. It stung and this time she couldn't help but cry out. It hurt. It hurt so bad and yet she stood anyway because it was her only chance to get away. She pumped her tiny legs, pushing forward. She felt the other man reach for her, but she dodged around his legs, her blanket flapping around her. They wouldn't catch her. She wouldn't be caught. She—

She felt herself fall forward. Her sandal had caught on a stick in the path. She got up quickly and began running again. Immediately, she could tell that her sandal had finally broken, but she didn't have any time to think about that. On she ran, leaving the broken shoe behind.

She found herself a spot in one of the empty market stalls. Crawling inside, she listened carefully for either of the men, but heard nothing. Her heart was pounding and her mouth was dry. Still, her stomach rumbled, wanting food. She had nothing to give it. If she slept, maybe the feelings would go away. She pulled the blanket tighter around her as a colder wind blew through. Soon it would be time to find a new place before the really cold wind blew.

The next morning, she was awoken by the sounds of the market place awakening. She could hear people setting up their booths, and some were already calling out their wares. Perhaps she could find a kind seller who would give her some scraps of food. It didn't need to be much, just enough to settle her rumbling stomach. The stall she had hidden in was still empty and she stood, stretching cramped limbs.

A few hours later, all she had to show for her begging was some pieces of overripe citrus fruit. She sucked the pieces until there was no more juice, and popped the rest in her mouth. She chewed slowly, savoring each bite; she had no idea where she'd get more food later on. As she looked up, she caught sight of an old man, dressed in khaki. She didn't know him, but his outfit caused him to stand out with the darker colors of the villagers. He seemed to spot her. Not only that, he looked at her like he knew her. She hadn't stolen anything from anyone in some time, but no he was coming after her.

Quickly, she turned and ran, weaving through the throng of people. She got angry remarks tossed in her direction, but it didn't matter. Every time she glanced behind her, that man was still following. She didn't know him. What did he want with her? She turned down the nearest street, continuing to push past. She finally chanced glancing back and didn't see the man anymore. Her running slowed, and she leaned against the side of a building, trying to catch her breath. She would stay here for awhile until she could go back to the market. She would—

"There you are," called a voice gently. Masculine.

She looked up, knowing it was him. She shrank back against the wall, fear creeping up her spine. She began to shake. Not again. Not again. Not again. She repeated the mantra over and over in her mind.

Shadows surrounded her. It was dark, but she could still see their outlines and she knew she was in trouble. She just didn't know what she'd done wrong. They were supposed to be kind to her here. She was supposed to have a home here. They had been nice at first. She'd been treated well, given new clothes, and fed until she felt like her belly would burst at every meal. And then, one day, that had all changed.

"I didn't do anything!" She shrank into the corner, holding tighter to the plush toy in her hand. She winced as it was smacked away. One of the shadows picked it up, and she heard the ripping of fabric mixed with laughter.

"Get over here. You didn't do as you were told, did you kid?"

"I cleaned the room up. I did what you said."

"It's not clean enough! There's dirt smeared everywhere."

Slap! She felt the hot sting of the hand and burst into tears. The pain was sharp. Slap! Again. Over and over again, until she could hardly feel her face. But she stood still.

"Get out of here. What good are you? Not even worth the name you were given. Apparently your mother thought it funny to name you that, didn't she? Look where it's gotten you! She's dead!"

She'd run away then to her room, if it could be called that. She shared a mattress on the floor with some of the other younger girls. It was always crowded, and uncomfortable, but up until tonight, she'd always had her plush toy to sleep with. Now, she was alone.

For hours she'd sat up, staring into the darkness while the others slept all around her. She didn't want to stay with these people anymore. She had no idea what it was like to be on the streets, but she thought it would be better than living here and being hurt all the time. She reached for her blanket and pulled it around her. She soon slipped into the cool night, never to return.

She realized that maybe this man wanted to take her back there. Was he with them? She didn't want to go back. She'd never go back.

"It's all right, little one. I'm not going to hurt you. I want to help you.'

She shook her head. She wouldn't let herself be helped like that. Those other people had wanted to help her too and then they hurt her. They wanted to hurt her. "N-no!" she called out. He reached out to take her hand, but she dodged and dashed away again.

"Wait, kid! Stop!"

It was harder to run now. She was tired of running. She'd already run from him once. She couldn't keep it up and she noticed that he was still behind her. He still chased her. She wanted to get away from him, but she wasn't sure how much longer she could dodge him. As she looked up, she spotted a small alley heading away from the main street.

She turned here, finding that it led back to the market place. Maybe she could lose him there again. She had to stop running. She wanted to stop running and rest, but one glance behind her told her she couldn't. He still followed after her, and knew he could probably run for a long time.

Out into the market place she shot once more, skidding on the dirt. She pushed her way through the crowds, ignoring the people who yelled at her. She had to get away. She had to hide. She tried to remember if there were any empty buildings nearby that she could duck into just long enough to lose him.

As she pushed past another group of people, she felt someone smack against her. The force of the blow knocked her forward, and she landed hard on the packed dirt. The air was knocked out of her, but she still pulled herself off to the side, to get out of the path of those browsing. It took all the energy she had. By the time she felt safe, her eyes were heavy and she couldn't stay awake. The last thing she thought of was the man chasing her. She hoped he didn't find her. She hoped—

Her head slumped over as she passed out. No one paid attention to the child with the ratty brown blanket laying against the side of the building. No one rushed to help her or give her medical aid. She was a street kid, and no one bothered with street kids. Street kids only brought trouble on those who dared bother with them.

In her unconscious state, she dreamed. She dreamed of a life she didn't have, the kind she saw other kids have. Girls like her were dressed in frilly dresses made from expensive fabric. They laughed and ate snacks on dishes. All she could do was watch from the sidelines with her tattered blanket pulled about her. Her belly rumbled at the thought of food, but she could only cover it with her hands.

She looked up at the girls once more, and knew she couldn't go play with them. She didn't even look like them. She looked down at her tattered red shirt and shorts, full of holes, dirty, and stained. She didn't have any kind of clothing like theirs. She sighed.

"Come play with us!"

Looking up, she noticed one of the girls looking at her. She wasn't talking to her. Nobody wanted to play with her before. She looked down at her hands instead.

"Can't you hear? Come play!"

The same girl was still talking and looking at her. "Me?" she asked.

"Yes, come play with us." The girl held out her hand.

She looked down at her own hand again, covered in dust and dirt. Then she looked back up at the girl, whose hand was clean by comparison. Hesitantly, she reached out, and took the offered hand. The girl pulled her to her feet, and dragged her back to her group of friends.

The amount of food they had been between them was amazing. She hadn't seen so much food in front of her for a long time. Greedily she reached out and grabbed anything she could reach- cookies, cakes, and candies. She drank down cup after cup of the warm tea, but no one seemed to mind. No one told her to stop eating so much or that she was just a street kid.

"You'll get a tummy ache if you eat so much," giggled the one girl.

"I don't care. I'm really hungry and it's really good food. Can I have some more of these cookies?" she asked, speaking with her mouth open. A plate was passed in her direction. She reached out and took more.

"You're a funny girl," giggled the girl who had brought her over.

"I am not!" she protested.

"No it's not a bad thing. You're just fun to watch. I can't eat so many snacks," replied the girl.

"Ohhh…" She still didn't quite get it. However, there was food, and so she was happy.

"Will you play with us again?"

"Maybe."

"But it's fun! Haven't you played games before?"

"No… no one plays with me."

The girl offered her a smile. "You can play with us. Want to play tag?"

"What's that?"

"It's a game. Someone is 'it' and they try to tag everyone else. The last person tagged gets to be 'it' the next time."

"I dunno…"

It wasn't long before the girl had convinced her otherwise. For the first time, she let go of her blanket and took the girl's hand, joining the rest of her friends. She was chased and then got to chase. The air rang with laughter and she knew that she'd want to play with them again.

Soon the girls and the game began to become blurry and it was as though her eyes weren't working correctly. She rubbed them, but found that it made no difference. The scene before her was completely blurry, and then it became black. She found herself making the switch from sleep to being awake. In the darkness, she knew it wasn't real. The girl hadn't been real. The game hadn't been real. Most of all, the food hadn't been real. She would still be hungry. Dream food never satisfied an empty belly. She tried to sleep again, wanting to go back to that girl and her friends and the food. She drifted into an uneasy slumber, and this time, there was no girl and no game. All she found was the quiet darkness.