The river carried the crate farther than anyone could have imagined. Daylight faded into evening before the current finally slowed, gently pressing the battered wooden box against the roots of an old willow tree bordering a quiet village hidden deep within rural Japan. Rain had begun to fall by then, each droplet tapping softly against the worn lid as though nature itself was attempting to wake the child trapped inside. It was an elderly fisherman who discovered the crate the following morning. Expecting abandoned cargo, he pried the lid open with little effort. Instead... He found a boy. Curled tightly into himself. Silent. Shivering. Still waiting.
Chei slowly lifted his head, blinking at the unfamiliar face before him. His lips parted, but no words came. He had spent so many hours hoping the cult would return that he hadn't prepared himself for the possibility of strangers finding him instead. The old man stared for several long moments before quietly removing his coat and wrapping it around the trembling child. "...Poor thing." Those were the first gentle words anyone had ever spoken to Chei. He didn't understand why hearing them made his chest ache.
The villagers searched for his parents for several weeks. Notices were posted throughout neighboring towns, authorities were contacted, and every effort was made to discover where the mysterious child had come from. Yet every trail ended in silence. No missing reports matched his description. No relatives stepped forward. It was as though Chei Mirae had never existed. With nowhere else to send him, the village entrusted him to a nearby orphanage.
Life there was nothing like the cult. Children laughed. They argued over toys. Caretakers smiled while serving warm meals. People hugged one another without asking permission. It was a world completely foreign to Chei, and that unfamiliarity made him stand out immediately. He spoke very little. He struggled to understand ordinary conversations. Whenever someone smiled at him, he simply stared back, uncertain whether he was expected to respond. The other children quickly noticed. Some whispered that he was strange. Others became frightened by how emotionless he appeared. Most simply avoided him altogether.
Prospective families visited the orphanage almost every month. Whenever they arrived, the children eagerly lined up to introduce themselves, hoping to be chosen. Chei never joined them. Not because he didn't want a family. He simply couldn't understand why anyone would choose him. One by one, the children around him found new homes. Beds became empty. Rooms grew quieter. The faces he had slowly begun recognizing disappeared forever. His bed, however, remained untouched. No one ever stopped in front of him. No one asked for his name. Eventually, the caretakers stopped encouraging him to participate.
Months quietly slipped into years. Chei accepted loneliness as though it were another lesson from the cult. Until one ordinary afternoon... Everything changed.
He had been sitting alone beneath a large cherry blossom tree in the orphanage courtyard, carefully tracing circles into the dirt with a small stick he had found nearby. Pink petals drifted lazily through the spring air, occasionally landing in his silver-white hair without him noticing. Footsteps approached. They didn't stop. Instead... Someone sat beside him.
"You always sit here." The cheerful voice caught him off guard. Chei slowly looked up. A girl around his age smiled back at him as though sitting beside strangers was the most natural thing in the world. "You don't play with everyone else." Chei remained silent. She tilted her head. "...Can you talk?" After several awkward seconds, he quietly nodded. "...Yes." The girl's smile widened. "Oh! I thought you couldn't."
She extended her hand without the slightest hesitation. "My name's Laine." Chei stared at her outstretched hand. He had seen people greet each other this way before but had never done it himself. After a brief moment of uncertainty, he carefully placed his much smaller hand into hers. "...Chei." "It's nice to meet you, Chei."
For reasons he couldn't explain, those simple words stayed with him for the rest of the day. No one had ever said they were happy to meet him before.
Their conversation was interrupted by another child walking toward them with an expression that could only be described as annoyed. He folded his arms. "Laine." She looked over. "Hm?" "Why are you talking to him?" She blinked. "Because I want to." The boy glanced toward Chei before letting out a quiet sigh. "Everyone says he's weird." Chei instinctively lowered his eyes. There was that word again. Weird. He expected Laine to stand up and leave. Instead, she lightly nudged the boy's shoulder. "Then maybe everyone else is wrong."
The boy rolled his eyes so dramatically that Laine laughed. "...You're impossible." "And you're grumpy." "I'm realistic." "No, you're grumpy."
After several seconds of silence, the boy reluctantly looked toward Chei. "...I'm Yhan." Chei nodded once. "...Hello." Yhan scratched the back of his neck. "...You're really bad at talking." "I know." "..." "..." Laine burst into laughter. For reasons neither of them understood... Yhan laughed too.
It was small. It was ordinary. Neither child realized it then. But that simple conversation beneath a cherry blossom tree would become the beginning of a friendship destined to shape—and ultimately destroy—all three of their lives.