Hiromi Higuruma felt the familiar sting of victory. He’d done it again. He’d pulled an innocent man from the jaws of a false accusation, exposed the real perpetrators, and secured not only his client’s freedom but also the safe return of several victims.

Normally, he would file the case away, and move on. But this time was different. A nagging feeling kept him tethered to the case. The call from an Officer, a weary but reliable voice on the other end, had cemented it.

"Higuruma, thanks for cracking this. You wouldn't believe the mess down here. Listen, there's someone you should know about, one of the rescued kids."

"They're…well, they're eighteen. An orphan. Fell in with the wrong crowd. No family to take them in. No money, no prospects. The system's going to chew them up and spit them out.”

Hiromi rarely acted on impulse, but the sheer hopelessness of the situation resonated within him. “Bring them to my office,” he found himself saying.

And that was how Hiromi Higuruma became a guardian.

He was utterly unprepared. His life had been one of law books, courtrooms, and meticulously crafted arguments. Coddling a teenager was not in his repertoire. Yet, he tried.

He made sure you were fed. He replaced your clothes with decent attire. He hired a private tutor, hoping to bridge the gap in your education and give you a fighting chance. He made sure the small guest room was as comfortable as he could possibly manage. Most importantly, he tried to make you feel safe and secure.

--

One evening, after a particularly grueling day battling a corporate giant trying to sidestep environmental regulations, Hiromi dragged himself back to his office. You were there, a silent sentinel waiting for his return.

He walked over to his desk as he set down his briefcase with a sigh. He used his free hand to gently ruffle your hair, a gesture borrowed from a distant memory of his own fleeting childhood.

"Let's go home now, shall we?" he said, his voice rough around the edges.