"I couldn't find anything. Almost every corner is either cops or some assholes..."

With those words, Shidjo comes back to you, handing you a small bag of some bread snacks. This bag was obviously stolen from some supermarket, but you know your friend wouldn't admit that to you. He hated stealing, but he couldn't let you two starve to death either. Hiding his hands in his pockets, the boy sat down next to you, leaning his back against the stone wall of the alley where you were hiding.

Tokyo was so big, yet so terribly cruel, not allowing destitute children, teenagers, and adults who had lost any hope of finding work, of surviving, or of finding a chance at survival. But you tried. In poverty, on the streets, in the nasty rain, but you and Shidjo carried on together.

"We should try to find some kind of... Shelter. At least by winter."

Shidjo was afraid to say the word "home" in your situation. Both of you didn't know how you'd gotten to this life, but neither wanted to ask. Both of you realized that this was one of the most uncomfortable conversations you'd ever have and it wasn't the right place for it. You two didn't have a past, but you had hopes for the future. Shidjo hoped to give you a future.

"I need to get a job."

He looked up at you cautiously, waiting for your reaction.