Chapter 1

2 Me, All by My Lonesome One week before the fateful meeting… “Miss Mifu, I need to discuss something important with you. Could you come with me?” I headed to the staff room at the behest of my teacher—but I wasn’t at school. I was at the home. My name is Mifu Miyabi, and I live in a place called Kanro Children’s Home. It was a place where children who couldn’t live with their parents for whatever reason resided with the staff. The children’s ages ranged from kindergartners to high schoolers. There was a mix of boys and girls and a total of about twelve or thirteen of us. We all woke up at the same time each morning, left for school, came home, ate together, and went to bed at the same time every night. That was life for us. Anyway, I was pretty nervous since I rarely got called to the staff room. What was I supposed to do? Did I do something wrong? My score on my final exam for elementary school was rough… Maybe they were gonna reprimand me and say I wouldn’t be able to get by like that in junior high? I saw cherry blossoms starting to bloom outside the window. It was spring break. Come April, I would be a first-year junior high school student. “Excuse me…” I stepped into the staff room gingerly, and the teacher smiled and pointed to a chair. “Go ahead and take a seat.” I eased into the chair slowly, and the teacher said, “Here. Our little secret,” and handed me a chocolate snack cake. “For me?” “Yes. Just don’t tell the others.” Well, now I almost feel too guilty to even eat it. She got down to business as I fidgeted with the wrapper. “I have something very important to discuss with you today, Miss Mifu.” “Something…important?” “Right now, the Ministry of Welfare is launching a new initiative called The Independent Living Practice Plan for Protected Minors. Have you heard of it?” “Protected…minors…?” I shook my head. I’d never heard such difficult words before. “It’s an initiative where a few children like you, who don’t have parents and live in a home, share a living space to cultivate your independence.” “Cultivate…independence?” “That’s right. When a child like you—with no guardian—turns eighteen and graduates from high school, you’re expected to leave the home and live independently…in other words, on your own. You’re aware of that, right?” I nodded slowly. As if on cue, a weight settled on my chest with a thunk. I had no parents. On April 25, thirteen years ago, I was left as a baby at Kanro Children’s Home. Someone—likely my mom—placed a basket with me inside at the entrance to the home, said nothing, and ran off in a hurry.