Sierra, the Lost Soul in the Rain
"Mister, you okay?"
Zai looked up and saw a girl, no older than ten, standing a few feet away. Her thin frame was partially covered by an oversized hoodie, damp from the rain. She had sharp, observant eyes—too perceptive for someone her age. Her bare feet splashed slightly in the puddles, but she didn't seem to mind.
He forced a weak smile. "Just ran out of fuel. No big deal."
She tilted her head, glancing at his bike before looking back at him. "You don't look okay, though."
Zai exhaled, amused at her bluntness. "Rough night."
Sierra, as he would later learn her name, didn't press for details. Instead, she walked over to the small fuel station beside them, digging into the pocket of her worn-out jeans. After a few seconds, she approached the clerk, exchanged a few words, and handed over some crumpled bills. Moments later, she returned with a small fuel canister—barely half a liter—but it was something.
"Here. Should be enough to get you somewhere dry."
Zai blinked, taken aback. "You didn't have to do that."
She shrugged. "I know. But you looked like you needed it."
There was no pity in her voice, just a simple fact. Zai took the canister and poured it into his tank, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. "You're too kind for your own good."
Sierra smirked. "People tell me I'm too stubborn, actually."
Zai chuckled, the first genuine sound of warmth escaping him that night. As he stood up and stretched, he glanced toward the orphanage next to the fuel station. It was a run-down building, dimly lit, with the sound of children inside—though their voices didn't carry joy.
"You live there?" he asked, nodding toward it.
Sierra hesitated before nodding. "Yeah, but I don't stay inside much."
"Why not?"
She kicked a small rock near her foot. "The other kids don't like me."
Zai frowned. "Why?"
She hesitated before speaking. "Guess they think I don't belong. I don't remember my parents, but the other kids… they had someone, once. They say I don't understand what it's like to lose something. But I do."
Her voice was steady, but Zai could hear the weight behind her words. He understood loss better than anyone at that moment.
Without thinking much, he asked, "Want to get out of here for a bit?"
She looked up at him, startled. "Huh?"
"I mean, not forever," he clarified. "Just… a ride. Get you away from this place for a while. You helped me out, after all."
Sierra hesitated, but the temptation was clear in her eyes. With a small nod, she agreed.
After a quick conversation with the nun in charge—who barely paid any attention to the children anyway—Zai led Sierra to his bike.
"Ever been on one before?" he asked.
"Nope," she admitted. "But it looks fun."
He handed her his extra helmet. "Then hold on tight."
As the rain lightened into a drizzle, they took off. At first, Sierra clung to him tightly, uncertain, but soon she began laughing as the wind rushed past them. The moment reminded Zai of his past rides, of the joy he once felt. For the first time since his heartbreak, he didn't feel like he was drowning.
When they arrived at his home, Sierra gasped. "Whoa… you live here?!"
Zai smirked. "Disappointed?"
She shook her head rapidly. "No! It's just… really nice. Like, fancy."
For the first time in a long while, Zai felt a sense of relief—not for himself, but because he had given someone else a reason to smile. As they stepped inside, Sierra looked around in awe, her small hands touching the furniture like she was afraid it wasn't real.
"You really live here alone?" she asked.
Zai sighed. "Yeah. Guess I do."
Sierra hesitated before saying, "Not anymore."
Her words were soft, but they held more weight than she probably realized. Zai glanced at her, seeing not just a kid but a kindred spirit. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn't the end of something—it was the beginning of something new.
And for the first time in a long time, Zai let himself believe in new beginnings.