A new morning arrived at Takagi Orphanage.
Outside, winter painted the landscape in soft white frost. The cold air still lingered heavy, but within the silence, a faint breath danced out from the boy already awake.
Shin stood alone in the hallway, his black-dyed hair still messy from sleep, eyes half-lidded but clear.Something about today felt different.
He had woken up before everyone else. Before the staff. Before the children.His body moved without a clear reason—driven by something vague, yet persistent.
He stepped onto the porch and stretched his limbs slowly. A soft breath left his lips as he raised his arms upward.
Inhale… Exhale…
The winter air pricked his skin, but he didn't shiver. Instead, he quietly welcomed it.It was unfamiliar… yet oddly nostalgic.
Without much thought, Shin turned and walked toward the kitchen.
The dim light from the ceiling barely lit the shelves, but he moved as if he knew where everything was—his fingertips brushing across the wood of the cupboards, the handles of drawers, the steel of old pans.
He looked through the corners of the supply shelves, quietly observing.Curry powder. Pepper. A bit of salt. A half-used bottle of soy sauce.
He took a pinch of spices, a dash of pepper, and a few grains of salt. Just a little.Just enough.
He wrapped them in a napkin and slipped them into his pocket.Then, just as quietly, he left the kitchen and walked outside again.
Standing still in the open yard, he watched the sun peek over the rooftops. The snow hadn't fallen yet, but the frost crunched beneath his feet.He didn't smile. He didn't frown.
But for the first time… his chest felt warm.
A creaking door broke the silence.
"...Shin?"
The orphanage manager, Ms. Yamagishi, blinked at the boy standing outside.
"You're up early."
He turned to face her, bowed his head gently, and spoke.
"I'm sorry about yesterday. I was… rude."
His tone was quiet, almost robotic, but there was no sarcasm or fear—just a sense of responsibility.
Ms. Yamagishi sighed, brushing back her sleep-tousled hair.
"You really startled me yesterday, you know. Don't say things like that so casually. People might misunderstand."
"...I'll help with breakfast."
"Huh?"
"Let me help. As an apology."
She paused… then sighed again, softer this time.
"Fine. But you listen to instructions, alright?"
He nodded obediently.
Kitchen Scene – Morning Prep
Shin stood beside the sink, sleeves rolled up as he quietly washed vegetables. His movements were unhurried, methodical, careful.
He didn't talk.
He just worked.
Nearby, the older girls and the manager began boiling rice porridge. Simple, plain, standard. They didn't notice when Shin leaned closer to the pot—when his small fingers dropped a carefully blended mix of spices from the napkin in his pocket.
It wasn't much. Just enough to enhance the aroma.
But not enough to be seen.
He stirred quietly, then stepped back and returned to washing dishes.
Breakfast Time
The porridge was served.
As expected, no one cheered. No one smiled.
But...
"Tastes better than yesterday.""Still boring, but not bad, I guess.""Something's different..."
They didn't know why.
The food still looked the same. The ingredients were the same.But it was… slightly warmer. Slightly more comforting.
No one praised it.But no one complained.
Shin sat at his usual spot and ate in silence.
The taste still disappointed him.But it didn't feel empty.
Just a little better.
He wasn't satisfied. Not yet.But the feeling inside his chest told him this was the right step.
Days passed.
Shin volunteered to help with breakfast each morning.
He always woke up earlier than everyone.Always moved quietly.Always mixed just a bit of something into the pot.
No one noticed.
But the meals got slightly better each time.
No one thanked him.No one suspected him.But Shin didn't care. He wasn't doing it for praise.
He was chasing something else.
A Week Later – Early Morning
That night, his dreams returned.
Vivid.
Clear.
He stood in a strange kitchen.Sizzling pans. Fragrant herbs. The heat of a live fire.A man's hands, wrapped in bandages, gripped a knife as it danced through a block of meat.Steam rose from pots.The sound of boiling broth, the hiss of frying onions.
"That's not enough."
"Again."
"You'll know it's right when the taste makes your heart cry."
The words echoed in his head.
The scent in his nose felt real.
And the hunger…
The hunger was deeper than anything he had ever known.
Shin opened his eyes.The ceiling of the orphanage greeted him.
But unlike before, his eyes were sharper.
And this time—his body moved with purpose.
The food will be better today.
Just a little more.
One step at a time.
His eyes gleamed with a faint red hue beneath strands of silver-gold hair that shimmered even in the dim morning light.
And thus, the fire inside him began to burn brighter.