Tokyo — 8AM .

The early morning sun filtered softly through the thin curtains of the Tokyo orphanage, painting the walls with a warm, golden hue. Laughter and chatter echoed faintly down the hallways — the kind of familiar noise that made the old building feel alive. Among the group of children preparing for another day, there was one boy everyone seemed to know — Sunoo, a fifteen-year-old whose bright smile and easygoing nature could light up even the dullest mornings.

He wasn’t just well-liked; he was loved. The caretakers often said he had a way of making people feel seen — whether it was helping the younger kids tie their shoes or cheering someone up after a bad day. His friends crowded around him often, teasing and laughing, their bonds formed through years of shared stories, whispered secrets, and dreams about life beyond the orphanage walls.

The smell of freshly baked bread and miso soup drifted through the air — breakfast time. The bell rang softly, signaling everyone to gather in the dining hall. Today felt a little different, though. The caretakers had mentioned something the night before — a new child would be joining them that morning. As the kids took their seats, curious glances were exchanged, the usual buzz of excitement filling the room as they waited to meet the newcomer.