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It was a pleasure to burn.
For as long as she could remember, it was the only thing Ryoshu had known how to do. It was not the case that she was forced to; if given the choice, she would have continued to burn, because the flames were so very beautiful. Even more so, the ashes that were left in their wake.
Every night, she would wander around the Backstreets, searching for things to burn. Rubbish, from cardboard to food scraps. Pests, from cockroaches to mice. Human corpses.
Her fire kept the Backstreets clean. Ashes were better than rotting bodies on the street. She provided warmth to those shivering in the cold, too.
She was something like an urban legend. Parents told their children stories about the kind match lady who provided fire for everyone. Some were curious. Not curious enough to dare to go out at night, but curious enough to stay up and look out of their windows. However, the most they would see was the faint light of a flame burning in the distance, followed by the darkness of the night.
Even if nobody had ever seen her, Ryoshu was loved by everyone.
But she wasn't satisfied.
She hungered for more.
The language the person spoke in was incomprehensible to her. What she could make out, though, was that it was frantic. Furious, even.
This annoyed Ryoshu. She herself was a woman of a few words. What was the point of speaking if nobody could understand you?
Suddenly, the person lunged at Ryoshu. Their hands resembled something like a hook. If Ryoshu didn't act first, she would have been skewered.
So, she did the only thing she knew how to do.
The person went up in flames. Human or not, being set on fire would hurt anybody. The person flailed in a sad attempt to put the fire out, but to no avail. And then, like a baby crying the moment they realised they were born, they screamed for Mother– realising that they were going to die.
Screams of agony were a universal language. One that Ryoshu had come across for the first time, but understood instinctively.
Shrill laughter echoed through the night. Ryoshu had made her first artwork. Her medium was a coalescence of melted metal and charred flesh, on pavement.
At the same time, a revelation came to her. She wasn't satisfied with simply being loved. she wanted to love, too! It wasn't fair that everyone else could experience something so wonderful, and she was missing out on it!
To love was to see someone for who they truly were, right? Ryoshu thought to herself– by reducing the living to cinders, she was liberating them. There was no need to put on false airs or pretenses when faced with certain death. Everyone was the same in the end; blood and flesh was unnecessary when man's simplest form was ash.
Ryoshu had decided. From then on, she would love lots of people. Even if it meant hurting them. Even if it meant being hated.
And she did.
The name of the match lady went from one that was loved to one that was feared. Around the same time, another rumor began to circulate among the Backstreets.
There was a big, scary bear. It was barely held together by stitches, falling apart at the seams, and it had nails sticking out of its head. With loud and heavy footsteps, it stalked through the Backstreets, looking for prey. Once she had found her prey, she would give it a big, tight squeeze, suffocating it to death.
Everyone hated the big, scary bear, for it killed people. People who had long, fulfilling lives they could have lived. People who had loved ones waiting for them at home.
This made the bear sad. She was very lonely.
She only wanted to be seen. She only wanted to be loved.
She wanted someone to wrap their arms around her, as her own arms wrapped around them…
She wondered to herself. Was she cursed to be eternally unloved?
She'd give anything for that curse to be broken, even her own life.
"The big, scary bear… heh. Could use a better name. Let's see…"
Ryoshu mused to herself while smoking a cigarette stub she had found and relit. The rumors of the bear were widespread, and they had reached her too. She was curious; maybe they were cut from the same cloth. She kind of wanted to meet her.
"THROB. The Horrible, Repulsive Old Bear. Now, that has a nice ring to it."
"Faust has a name, you know."
The match lady turned around. The bear, whose name was now revealed to be Faust, was behind her. When did she get there? Whatever. It didn't matter.
A smile crept onto Ryoshu's lips. Various thoughts ran through her head. Such as, what words would come out of her mouth as she burnt? What would the smoke smell like? What shade of grey would her ashes be?
Ryoshu's eyes surveyed the girl who called herself Faust.
She wasn't big and scary like in the rumors. She was actually quite cute. Her white hair was disheveled and fluffy, and her eyes an icy blue. It was a stark contrast to Ryoshu's own charred black hair and fiery, scarlet eyes.
How artistic, Ryoshu thought. She chuckled to herself. Faust stared blankly at her. She seemed expectant, like she wanted Ryoshu to acknowledge she was there. Feeling Faust's eyes on her, Ryoshu cleared her throat.
"Sorry. I was thinking about something. What do you want, bear?"
Faust pouted slightly, as if upset that Ryoshu didn’t use her name despite her having introduced herself, but she carried on.
"You, match lady. Or should I say, Ryoshu? I want your fire."
Ryoshu raised an eyebrow. "Hah? how do you know my name?"
"Faust knows everything. I know about everything and everyone in the Backstreets."
"Is that so? 'Kay. Why do you want my fire, then? These days, my fire is the last thing anyone wants, y'know."
"... I'm cold. I think your fire could make me warm."
"That's all?"
"That's all," Faust replied.
Ryoshu smirked. Even if she had had her fair share of being wanted, it still felt pretty nice.
"Sure, then. "That's something I can do."
Ryoshu took a step forward. Faust accepted her with open arms.
The two became one, burning brightly.
Once upon a time, there were two girls.
The match lady, whose warm fire was loved and respected by everyone, but did not understand the feeling of love herself. The bear, whose deadly hugs were feared and despised by everyone, but had much love to give.
The match lady wanted to love. The bear wanted to be loved.
Through a fateful encounter, the two met, and granted each other's wishes.
The match lady was happy. The bear was happy.
With that, they lived happily ever after.