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She was just a shadow among the crowd, her slight figure moving like a wisp of smoke, unnoticed and unfelt. The blonde girl couldn't have been older than twelve, yet the hardships etched onto her small face suggested years beyond her actual age. Her azure eyes, once filled with innocent curiosity, now held a desolate haze of survival and desperation. Her golden hair, matted and covered with dirt, fell around her like a curtain, providing a small amount of protection against the glaring looks of those around her.

She wore an ensemble of patchwork clothing, made from scraps of discarded fabric, clinging to her skinny body. The scraps barely covered her frail form, with her arms and legs visible, the skin clinging tightly to her bones as if she hadn't tasted food for days. Her cheeks were sunken, a stark reminder of the harsh world that surrounded her, where each passing day was a battle against hunger and despair.

The little girl moved with a determined grace, her eyes constantly roving, scanning for opportunities. She was driven by a primal instinct that pushed her to survive another day, a beacon of resilience and determination amid the crushing wave of adversity. As she walked, the tantalizing aroma of grilled chicken wafted to her, arresting her attention.

At the end of the street, a big man held court over a stall, his arms moving with practiced ease as he flipped chicken pieces on the grill. A line of customers stretched out from his makeshift stand, their eager faces watching as he served one succulent piece after another.

She approached the stand cautiously, her eyes never leaving the food. But the moment she reached the counter, the seller's gaze fell on her, his features crinkling with disgust. He sneered, "Get out of here! You're scaring my customers!" His voice echoed in the silent street, earning him a round of laughter from the patrons.

She retreated without protest, her eyes dropping to the dirt beneath her feet. But the tantalizing scent of the grilled chicken was overpowering, calling out to her, tugging at her resolve.

Casting one last glance at the food stand, she decided to make her move. With cat-like stealth, she approached the stall from an angle where she was hidden from the sight of the burly vendor and his eager customers.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she drew closer, the distance shrinking with every step. Five meters. Four meters. Three. Two. One. And then, with a swift move of her hand, she grabbed a piece of chicken and bolted away, the sounds of surprised gasps trailing behind her.

"My chicken!" the vendor roared, his cry alerting his two employees. They dropped whatever they were doing and broke into a sprint, hot on the heels of the nimble thief.

The chase was on.

The narrow streets of the village turned into a labyrinth as she darted around corners and slipped through narrow alleys. Her small size was an advantage as she squeezed through gaps too small for the burly pursuers, their curses echoing off the walls as they struggled to keep up.

Yet, as nimble as she was, exhaustion began to weigh her down, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She glanced back, her eyes widening with relief when she saw no one. She quickly slipped into a narrow alley, sinking down against the cool stone wall, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.

The tantalizing aroma of the stolen meat wafted up to her, making her stomach growl. Cradling the piece of food close to her chest, she tore into it, her teeth sinking into the succulent meat.

She barely had time to swallow the first bite when a familiar set of footfalls echoed down the alleyway. Two imposing figures blocked the entrance, their grimacing faces cloaked in the flickering shadows. The child tried to escape, but they were faster, trapping her in the narrow confines of the alley. One reached out, his large, calloused hands ensnaring her small frame. They delivered blow after blow, their spiteful words echoing amidst the grunts and cries.

"A child of a whore woud steal after all!"

Despite the pain, she clung tightly to the bit of food she had, as though it were a lifeline in a stormy sea. The punches continued, a cruel rain pouring down onto her tiny body, yet she grit her teeth and bore it. She tasted blood, but the scrap of chicken remained clutched in her grasp.

"Even your whore of a mother abandonned you!"

After an eternity, the men grew tired.

"Why don't you go die in a quiet place."

They spat venomous words at her, then turned away and disappeared from the alley. Left in their wake was a small, battered form, a flicker of life in the cold, dark alley.

Rising on trembling limbs, she used her one good eye to survey the scene. With the coast clear, she finished the remainder of the chicken. Even though it was dirty and covered in grime, it tasted like the sweetest delicacy she had ever had.

As the taste of the chicken hit her palate, it was like a wave of bliss washing over her, momentarily erasing her pain and misery. Despite the grime covering it, the meat tasted heavenly to her starved body. Its warmth filled her mouth, spreading throughout her body, giving her strength she hadn't felt in days. The savory, smoky flavor, the subtle spice that tickled her tongue, the juicy tenderness that dissolved in her mouth—it was a feast for someone who hadn't eaten a decent meal in what felt like forever.

As she gnawed on the bone, savoring every scrap of meat she could scrape off, her eyes started to water. They weren't tears of pain, although her body was hurting everywhere. They were tears of happiness, the joy of having a meal, however meager and stolen. Tears mixed with the blood trickling down from her cut lips, forming a bitter-sweet cocktail that flowed down her chin and dropped onto her dirty ragged clothes.

Her small, grimy hands were covered in chicken grease and specks of her own blood. Despite the gruff punches and kicks, she held onto the chicken as if it was her lifeline. With each bite, her eyes shone a little brighter, the flicker of life growing stronger.

Her azure eyes, previously hazy, began to sparkle with a primal satisfaction. Underneath the coating of mud and dirt, her golden hair seemed to regain some of its luster. The sunken cheeks started to regain a hint of color as she ate, the life returning to her face bite after bite. Despite the tears, a wide smile spread across her face, her bloodied lips stretching as much as they could.

When nothing remained, she assessed her injuries. Bruises, cuts, nothing fatal. Good.

As she gathered herself to leave, a loud explosion cut through the night, the force of it knocking her against the hard stone of the alley.

Darkness claimed her.

When she awoke, she found herself dressed in unfamiliar clothes, her small form cradled in the arms of a giant purple titan. She looked up at him with wide eyes, but his expression was gentle, welcoming.

"Dad."

She whispered, the single word filled with an emotion she had long since forgotten.

The titan lifted her higher, his large arms protective around her. He looked down at her with a soft smile, then turned to the opening of the alley.

"Let's go home," he said, the warmth in his voice soothing the wounds on her body and in her heart.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Chloe felt safe. She nestled into the titan's broad chest, allowing herself to relax in his hold. Her small, ragged breaths gradually became more even, the comfort of his presence lulling her. She had found her home.

(Ninjas cut onions in my room.)