Saturday, August 2nd, 2005.
Tokyo city, Japan.
The morning sun cast long shadows across the bustling streets of Tokyo.
The city was bustling with several million people, each hurrying toward their own destination, dressed decently and respectably.
Yet among this sea of people, one figure stood apart like a sore thumb.
A young boy, no more than ten years old, struggled against the weight of what appeared to be too heavy for his small size; however, he surprisingly could move it.
His clothes, that were once probably shades of blue, had faded to a brown color, patched and re-patched at different angles.
The shirt hung loose on his thin shoulders, too large for his questionably slender frame, as if he got it from some charitable individual or perhaps, a dumpster.
The cart he dragged behind him was sticking out just like him, given that such was becoming rare these days.
It was a wooden box designed for horses, with iron wheels that were already rusty.
