Every night he sneaks into my room

A seven-year-old boy with coffee-brown hair sat at a short-legged table. He was in an old traditional Japanese kitchen, surrounded by tatami mats and sliding shoji doors. His big blue eyes focused on the study books in front of him, while his tiny fingers gripped a pencil, as he kept his attention on calculations.

"You are being too harsh on that boy," an elderly woman with a hunched back said as she cut a pear with a paring knife.

A man wearing rectangular eyeglasses stood next to her, keeping his arms crossed as he watched his adopted son do his assigned homework. His mouth was pressed in a line and the creases on his forehead were deep as he observed how the child was doing.

The boy's grandmother was about to serve him some fruit slices, but the man raised his voice.

"No. Do not disturb him now."

The grandmother sighed and placed the ceramic plate on the table. She gave her firstborn son a somber look and walked away, leaving her young grandson to continue his studies in her kitchen.

The seven-year-old finally put down his pencil after a few minutes of concentration. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and tried to stifle a yawn. The man leaned in and glanced at every answer on the paper, ensuring that the boy had completed his work correctly. He then flipped to the next page and pointed to the top.

"Now, continue with this one."

The boy looked longingly at the plate of pears, his mouth watering as he imagined how sweet and juicy they were. His father was about to give him one of the slices, but he stopped halfway.

"Finish your work first. After everything has been completed and approved, then you may have some. Is that clear?"

The memory of the scene faded away as Natsuo blinked, bringing him back to the boarding school dormitories. As he looked down, he realized he still held a pear in his hand, reminding him of when his father fed him one piece at a time.

He shook his head, thinking Masashi should have adopted a dog instead of a child. A thud followed as he tossed the fruit into the trash and walked out of his room.

At the end of the school year, the final grades were published, and everyone could see who achieved the highest grades. The atmosphere heated up when the headmistress posted a printed document on the wall, displaying Natsuo Nakashima's name at the top. His classmates were silent as he strolled past them, before whispering to one another as they turned away from him.

He had made no friends during his stay and was barely acknowledged by his peers, but for some reason, he didn't care. He had become comfortable in his own company, which was a bit strange, but somewhat liberating at the same time.

"Did you bribe the headmistress, huh?" Kohaku said as he appeared behind the crowd, grinning with his front teeth missing and jabbing his elbow at the top student.

"Are you sure you are not from another planet with those eyes? Could it be that your space parents left you here on purpose? Maybe they noticed how annoying you were and figured it would be better if they abandoned you on Earth!"

Then, the memory of his grandparent's rural house in the country flooded back into Natsuo's mind.

He, as a seven-year-old again, descended the stairs when he heard his grandmother's voice, talking to someone over the phone.

"Masashi is a busy man, since he manages his own hospital department, but - the boy? No, he was adopted. Noriko was the one with those issues... I can't remember what exactly anymore. I need to ask Masashi again..."

The boy's eyes widened as he listened to his grandmother's words. A strange, tight feeling gripped his belly, as if he had just been told a secret he wasn't supposed to know - yet his curiosity kept him listening. He slowly snuck towards the kitchen, walking barefoot down the wooden stairs.

"They tried for so long to have a baby... but their doctors eventually convinced them to do it. I advised them not to, that things would just work out for them naturally, but you know Masashi is a stubborn man..."

In the dim hallway, Natsuo crouched low, and listened intently to every detail his grandmother revealed. That day, he discovered the truth about his parents for the first time, but he had already realized that something wasn't right. He didn't look like one of them, even though he wanted to. It might have been easier for them to like him if he had brown eyes and dark hair, just like them.

"I heard the girl was a student and visiting Moscow when some man attacked the poor thing. Masashi said he was a local criminal and had recently been released from prison - oh no, I have no idea what happened to him," the elderly woman confessed as she stirred the steaming soup while holding an old-fashioned phone to her ear.

Back in the present, Kohaku waved his hand in front of Natsuo's face, trying to get his attention.

"Nakashima? He is completely lost. Maybe he is in contact with his space parents," he commented, making both of his friends chuckle.

Natsuo shook his head, pushing the memory from his mind.

"Maybe I'm an alien and you are just an illusion created by me. Maybe it's better to leave me alone," Natsuo snorted as he walked away from the crowd of students, letting his thoughts take over again.

He pondered the other possibilities of his life, thinking it would have been better if that girl who gave birth to him had dumped him down the toilet. It made him think of the injustice of it all - how the unfortunate student in Moscow didn't ask for a child and how he didn't wish to be born.

After the revelation he had heard accidentally from his grandmother, the seven-year-old Natsuo had decided to confront his mother about his origins. The only answer she gave was an empty look, before stepping away and finding her husband. Natsuo only remembered the look on his father's face, mixed with disappointment and frustration, making it clear that it was a topic they wouldn't be talking about that day - nor would they ever again.

He stepped closer to the locked window and rested his forehead against the glass. His gaze followed fluffy clouds drifting across the pale blue sky, while his thoughts turned to the future.

One day, he would break free from his former life and escape his adopted family's restrictions. He would live his life on his own terms and find out who he truly was - then maybe one day he could figure out the meaning of his unwanted existence.

(Elsewhere at the same time)

A long dining table was covered with a white linen tablecloth and set up with delicate china plates, crystal glasses, and silverware. Platters of exquisite, colorfully garnished dishes were laid out for diners to enjoy, each one artfully arranged and beautifully presented.

A server at Takuya's mansion approached the two guests from Japan, and poured them each a glass of expensive red wine.

"I hope he hasn't caused too much trouble," a woman in her designer dress said as she looked at her brother-in-law with a hint of concern.

"Not at all. He is so well-behaved, even though he hasn't had much of an appetite," Toshiro replied as he lifted his bourbon to his lips and took a sip.

His pale brown eyes shifted towards his nephew on the right, who poked his gourmet dish with his fork, seemingly uninterested in the lavish meal.

"But I understand that it can be difficult to adjust to American cuisine. I can have my chef prepare more Japanese dishes for him," Toshiro, while tidying up his black suit, added and gestured to the server to fill his glass up.

"Jiro, you should appreciate what your uncle does for you," his mother scolded.

Her son squeezed his fork tighter and pinched his lips together, refusing to be thankful to anyone.

(A while later)

Jiro's mother rested in her brother-in-law's extravagant living room, drinking evening tea from a small porcelain cup with gold trim. The two brothers had headed to Toshiro Takuya's office to discuss a billion-dollar deal in their family's cyber security business, which would make them one of the richest families in the world and top corporate leaders in the industry.

Every piece of Toshiro's mansion was a tribute to the family's success and extravagance - the walls were decorated with expensive paintings and sculptures, the floors were covered with luxurious and soft carpets, and the furniture was made with only the finest materials. The large, ornate windows offered an impressive view of the spacious estate and beautifully manicured grounds, but that evening, a storm raged outside, making it difficult to enjoy the scenery.

The rain pounded against the skylights and thunder rumbled almost continuously, creating a dramatic backdrop for the conversation in the living room.

"What is the matter with you? Why are you acting this way?" Jiro's mother asked as she noticed her son's unreadable expression.

They were seated in comfortable armchairs near the fireplace, facing one another. The boy's lips twisted and tears trickled down his face as sudden emotions took hold of him.

His mother glanced at him, clearly not expecting such a strong reaction.

"Uncle... forced me not to tell..." Jiro managed to say as tears ran down his chin, in the same fierce way the rain fell from the sky.

"Forced not to tell what?" the mother asked, her tone becoming agitated.

Jiro looked at her nervously. His shoulders slumped as he finally gave up trying to keep the secret he had carried for so long.

"Almost every night... he sneaks into my room... and he..." Jiro whispered, but his sobs obscured the rest of his sentence. His voice broke, and he struggled to find the words, when the flashbacks of it all were too painful to articulate.

The woman's face became pale as she lowered the cup to the granite table, shaking slightly as she listened to her son's confession.

"And h-he does something to me... s-something I don't want him to do.. a-and - "

When the boy opened his mouth to continue, his mother harshly slapped him. His head snapped to the side as her palm landed on his cheek, leaving a faint pink mark behind.

"That is enough, Jiro," she said firmly, her voice full of disappointment as she stared into her son's wide and watery eyes.

"We have forgiven you for what you did, but that does not mean you can keep gaining attention with these stupid tricks."

Jiro gazed at her mother in complete disbelief. A stinging feeling of defeat hit him as he realized the person who was supposed to protect him wouldn't believe him.

"Wait until your father and uncle hear about this," the woman said with a sigh as she stood up from the velvet chair and made her way to her brother-in-law's office.

Jiro stared at the fireplace, watching the orange and yellow flames flicker and dance. His stomach ached with pain as his emotions burned like those logs on the fire.

Only one thought remained in his head - he was in danger and no one would help him now. His instincts told him to run, to leave quickly before his uncle found out he had broken their agreement.

In an instant, he rushed to the entrance, unlocked the heavy door, and ran out into the pouring rain as fast as his trembling legs would take him.