I was standing in front of the mirror, buttoning my cuffs, staring at myself.
My uniform was full of wrinkles from weeks without ironing—my shirt looked like a stormy ocean.
My hair was a mess, clinging in strands to my sweaty forehead. I tried to fix it with a lazy hand gesture.
After half-heartedly straightening myself up, I headed down to the cafeteria for breakfast.
The place was alive with noise. Some kids wore the usual exhausted expressions, sighing dramatically as if life had betrayed them already. Others just couldn't stop talking—screeching like they were on a sugar high.
That was the orphanage for you.
Today's breakfast was eggs, cheese, and olives. And cherry juice. Not exactly my ideal combo, but hey, it's not like there were a lot of options.
Makoto—one of the oldest kids here alongside me—was already rushing to grab his tray and claim the first empty seat he could find.
Same old Makoto.
He's the kind of guy who wakes up ten minutes earlier than everyone just to gel that one stubborn bang of hair into a perfect spike.
And of course, that goofy grin of his never left his face.
He spotted me, eyes narrowing into tiny crescents from his smile.
"Hey Takashi, will I ever see you wake up early for once?" he teased, his voice carrying across the room.
"And will I ever see you sleep? Hmm, I wonder... Must be your hair routine that takes all night," I shot back, mimicking his dopey grin.
"Hey, hey, don't talk trash about my hair!" he protested. Then suddenly, his tone shifted—surprisingly serious. "By the way, grab your food and come sit with me. I need to talk to you."
That caught me off guard. He sounded like someone who just did ten years in corporate and was about to hand me a resignation letter.
When I walked over to his table with my tray, he was already done eating—just poking at the crumbs, clearly bored out of his mind. He never could sit still for long.
"I'm here," I said, dragging out the chair and sitting across from him.
He leaned in dramatically and whispered into my ear, "So… this inheritance thing—what's going on, man?"
His breath practically hit my brain stem. I jerked back. "Why are you whispering like we're plotting a heist? It's not even a secret, Makoto."
He paused—pretending to think, though I was 99% sure there was just empty air behind those eyes.
"I dunno, man. Thought maybe it was all hush-hush," he chuckled. "Anyway, so the inheritance thing is true? Nice. Just remember all those promises you made to me. If you forget, I'll haunt you. You know that, right?"
"I know," I muttered.
He leaned back, more relaxed now. "By the way, everything okay? You've been coming back super late these days. If you need help with anything, just say the word, man."
Honestly, I could've asked for help with him.
I knew he'd been doing karate since he was seven, and on a whim, while chewing on my egg, I asked if he could teach me a few moves.
He lit up with excitement. Said he'd been looking for a training partner forever.
Great. What have I just gotten myself into?
After finishing breakfast and wrapping up our morning banter, I stepped outside the orphanage.
Suddenly, I felt a violent buzz on my right thigh—my phone going off like it was being electrocuted.
At first, it freaked me out. I'd kept my phone on silent for so long that I mistook the vibration for an insect bite or something.
But when I finally pulled it out and saw the name on the screen, my face turned red and my heart did a triple backflip.
It was from Hinata.
> "Which metro station do you use for school? If we're close, would you wait for me, Takashi?"
I stared at the message.
Swallowed hard.
Clutched the phone like it was the Holy Grail.
And tried not to die of overthinking right there on the sidewalk.