"Thank you for showing me the logbook." I hand the register over to the old lady as she places it back inside the rusty shelf.
'It is the least that I can do, sweetie."
After returning the journal, the grandmother guides the two of us, Roxanne and me, to the exit. Upon reaching the door, we see the Japanese girl perching close to the gate. Himari has been watching the clouds fluttering southwest, wanting to see everything beyond their building.
Wistfully, she cannot go out or play with the other children in the park. Himari needs a caretaker to run around the park and return home at a designated time.
I always see her during weekdays, where the rest of the children are there, waiting for her arrival.
Himari is not sad because of the time-strains allotted for her. In fact, she feels joyful and content, unlike the rest of the children I know.
"Are you going to leave?" The little girl displays blended emotions of sadness and loneliness on her face as she watches us take the steps outside of the building.
She crumples her candy wrapper tightly while holding her tear, making sure it would never slip from her cheeks. I habitually tell her to avoid shedding a tear every time we go home.
This event is not our last goodbye, and we will see her again tomorrow.
"Himari, what snack would you like to eat?" I kneel and meet her eyes, wanting to tear up at any minute.
"Can you make me a sandwich?" She voices out while bashfully fidgeting with her hands. "I've heard it from aunt Mizuki that you are from America. I was wondering if you can make me a sandwich that you like."
Himari averts her gaze and buries her beating-red cheeks using her tiny fingers.
"I was curious about your snacks from your hometown," she appends as her voice trails off.
"Say no more, Himari. I will prepare you some snacks, together with Roxanne."
"Yeah! I make the best sandwiches in town!"
We can see Himari sparkling with joy after hearing such promises from the two of us.
After trading our valediction, Roxanne and I go straight to my home and do our things. I head over to my chair, open the laptop, and continue filling up the blank pages with words for my chapters. Roxanne helps herself with the auxiliary gaming laptop and plays the latest online game on the internet.
We resume our daily evening routines, trying to finish what we can before midnight.
However, an image appears and keeps boggling my mind. It does not hinder me from writing my chapters, but enough to distract my train of thought from time to time.
The scene of a man walking by the orphanage startles my mind. The bloke gives a tiny envelope that I assume contains the amount of donation he has placed inside the letter. Following the act, the guy leaves the building, with his obsidian hoodie covering his face and body.
It was the image I saw when visiting the foster home before.
"So that was Nickson," I mutter to myself while recalling the memory repeatedly until I finish the current chapter I am writing.
It is without a doubt that the man I saw that day was Nickson. All my worries about his salary vanish from my sight, leaving him a guiltless guy.
That is all I want to hear from him. And now that I have received his answer, I have no intentions of butting head against him unless needed.
He is doing a sublime job of adapting my work without me conferencing anything about the story. Nickson must have an admirable grasp of the plot, characters, and the setting despite not seeking my knowledge.
It is as if he is inside my head and knows everything about the book.
The thought that bugs me the most is his continuous desire to adapt my novel to a manga gaining nothing from his work. According to the logbook, nearly one hundred thousand Yens per month donated to that orphanage, similar to what he had said earlier. I have never believed his words from the get-go.
But upon seeing that chart, I have realised now that I was on the wrong side of the world. Nickson has proven himself correct with that simple note with numbers written on that pad.
"Say, Roxanne?"
"Hmm?"
Clicking sounds mixing with the musical instruments play on the setting, coming from an online game.
"Do I have to apologise to Nickson tomorrow?"
"You should," Roxanne instantly replies without even hearing my explanation.
"If you feel you did something stupid, then there is nothing wrong with admitting it and apologising it in front of someone," She adds while leaning back from her chair upon seeing the text [Defeat] on the screen. "This game sucks crap! I cannot believe the developers even made this game!"
"Maybe you just played badly?"
"Oh, shut up! You are not helping."
We both succumb ourselves in laughter after saying our comebacks and later resting on the couch to the fore of the wooden table. The two of us do our homework for thirty minutes nonstop and help ourselves with the leftover snacks of Glico Pocky-the long stick coated with succulent flavour, with Gyukoro-Japanese green tea.
It is the only graze that I can buy from the nearby convenience store, and probably the first ones I have noticed during my wander.
We eventually compile our papers and place them in our bags, preparing to pass them for tomorrow during our class. Even with my strenuous works and chapters, I can still find the time to comply with my activities and study for my exams, if we have any.
It is always the same as yesterday where I escort Roxanne outside and watch her stride in the empty streets. Fortunately, a guard is watching over a distance, checking for any anomalies lingering in the environment.
I return to my room, still sprinting upstairs and researching any reference that I can find.
"Tomorrow is the day of the school gathering," I murmur to myself.
I abruptly stand up and go for the closet, finding any clothes that I can wear for that day. While checking my dresses, a knock from the door alerts me, with familiar voices echoing through the window.
"Yuki, we are home!~"
My parents shout and open the gate, bringing with them the luggage they have during their trip.
The two of them have been going on multiple business trips at once, trying to maintain their business here in Japan. They also used that time to visit their distant relatives and provided them with souvenirs and treats for the children.
"I can ask my mom to choose for me." I run down the steps and meet with my parents.
Each of them has this exhausting look on their faces by the time I approach them. Their dark eyebrows welcome my orbs as I wave my hand.
"You guys are home late," I stutter, after witnessing their expressions up close. "Or early?"
They usually return home around Christmas day and spend the rest of Christmas eve and New Year before attending to their business. Occasionally, they will check me and the house. They also visit the neighbourhood from time to time and invite me to eat whenever I am free.
"Tough day. Horrible, even." My father regards his work while taking off his fluffy coat on the rack.
"Yuki, can you prepare us some dinner, if you still have one," My mother peers through the kitchen and notices the extra plate and rice inside the rice cooker.
"I will, mom," I dash towards the kitchenette and ready them something to eat with the surplus curry I have eaten with Roxanne.
Luckily, we do not finish our food whenever Roxy and I eat dinner in our home. I always foresee that my parents might come home and surprise me in the middle of the night.
"Was Roxanne here?" My mother asks as she spots an unfamiliar bag in their eyes.
"That clumsy girl," I retort while resting the bag near mine, so I cannot forget to bring it over to Roxanne tomorrow.
"Yeah. It is from hers. Roxy forgot about it." I finally give my mother an answer while fixing the meals at their tables. The dishes are steaming over to my nostrils, inviting me to eat with the rest of my parents in the dining room.
"Wow! Japanese chicken curry?" Dad queries me with a question with his eyes glistering at the wings dumped on the yellow ochre soup.
"It is! I saw it from a television commercial." I puff out my chest and announce it with confidence. After all, I am a cook in my household.
Nobody. Can. Hold. The. Spatula. But. Me.
"Come sit with us, Yuki," My father suggests while lightly tapping the vacant chair.
"I am fine standing, dad," I acknowledge, while swivelling my head towards my mother.
"Mom, can you choose my dress for tomorrow?"
"What is the occasion?"
"My school is holding a welcoming party. I was hoping, you know, to join and meet some friends."
My mother sweeps the spoon from her plate and gobbles everything in one go. It happened so fast that even my eyes had not glimpsed the performance just now.
"Woah, honey, you gotta eat slow or you would get fat."
"You idiot!" My mother and I react to his comment and attempt to slap him from behind. If it is not for the food munching inside his mouth, then we have probably hit him if we have the chance.
"I'm just kidding, you two!" My father shields himself with the finished plate from my mom while eluding his face away from our hands.
The two of us ladies proceed upstairs while slamming the door shut behind his face. While climbing the stairs, my mother brings her baggage with her and brings it inside my room.
As the door shuts behind us, my dad looks at the gate with confusion, thinking to himself what he did wrong to make us this mad.
But we are only playing games with him all this time, and wanted to have a little fun before resuming our serious talk.
"What is the matter, Yuki?" My mother repeats her inquiry as she approaches the cabinet.
"I need to choose a dress that will-," I rub my shoulders, while I feel slightly embarrassed to continue my sentence.
"You want to be pretty?" She connects with my incomplete sentences.
"Yeah…"
My mother flickers the hangers and clothes on the side while browsing for any attire that I can wear. She even opens the sizable luggage and throws the dresses on the bed.
"Here! Let us try everything on."
"Like, right now?"
"Around an hour. We still have time."
I glance at the wall clock and see the long and short arrows marking the number twelve. It is currently midnight, with the dusky sky showing on my windows.