Chapter 9: Shin's Daily Life
Monday, early morning.
Shin, as always, woke up earlier than the others.
The orphanage was filled with the soft chorus of snoring, but Shin quietly slipped out of bed without a sound. He folded his blanket and gently placed his pillow, each movement precise and silent.
He stepped out into the yard, breathing in the crisp morning air as birds chirped overhead. His limbs moved with practiced ease as he began his usual stretches, each motion deliberate and steady beneath the soft blue sky.
"Warm-up complete."
With his routine finished, Shin made his way toward the kitchen. This time, he didn't wait for anyone. He fished a small key out of his pocket and quietly unlocked the kitchen doors.
A subtle change—but a meaningful one.
He had been entrusted with his own key now.
The kitchen lights flickered on with a quiet hum. Shin walked straight to the fridge, opened it, and peered inside.
"Let's see… I guess we'll stick to salad with bacon and eggs today," he muttered to himself, his voice flat but thoughtful.
He began pulling out ingredients, his hands moving almost automatically.
Shin prepared breakfast for the orphanage residents with quiet ease.
His small frame moved gracefully around the kitchen—a silver flicker of motion in the soft glow of the lights. Every action was filled with precision, care, and routine. The rhythmic sound of a knife chopping vegetables echoed through the room, blending with the gentle sizzle of oil in the pan.
So focused was he that he didn't hear the knocking at the kitchen door.
Only when a light chop landed on the back of his head did he blink out of his trance.
"Morning, Shin. As early as always. But please respond when someone's knocking."
"Sorry, Akiha-neesan..." Shin muttered, rubbing the back of his head.
The one who'd given him the chop was none other than Akiha, the orphanage cook.
"If you keep doing everything yourself, I'll be out of a job at this rate," she teased, setting down her bag.
"Sorry..." Shin apologized again, this time more softly.
"Well, at least you left the side dishes. Mind if I handle those?"
Shin gave a small nod. "Mmm."
Just then, the sound of footsteps echoed into the kitchen.
"Yo! Shin, up early as always."
"Morning, Shin. Looks like you already took care of most of it."
Turning toward the door, Shin saw the two who had just entered—Haru and Amiya.
"Good morning, Haru-niisan. Ami-neechan," Shin greeted, bowing politely.
"Sniff sniff As always, the smell is amazing! How do you even do this with just eggs and bacon?!" Haru said with vigor after taking a deep breath.
"There goes my diet plan again... ha~~" Amiya sighed while looking at the breakfast dishes.
"Well, Shin also made salad. You can just eat that, and I'll take your portion."
"In your dreams!!"
As the two argued, a sudden head chop landed on both their heads.
"Ouch!!" ×2
"Come on, you two! Don't just stand there—help Shin prepare the dishes!" Akiha scolded.
"Yes, Ma'am!!" ×2
The four hastily prepared the orphanage breakfast.
Breakfast commenced with everyone eagerly waiting for Sakuya-obasan, the orphanage manager.
"Everyone, take your seats and behave," Sakuya instructed.
"Well then, let's give our thanks to the people who provided our meal today. Itadakimasu."
"Itadakimasu!!" everyone echoed in unison.
As always, the moment spoons met mouths, the room quieted. Making noise or reacting too much would cost precious seconds—seconds that could be used to grab more of Shin's eggs and bacon.
Those who made that mistake often ended up with less.
After breakfast, everyone helped clean up. Somehow, the dishes still looked spotless despite being used.
Then, as if on cue, the others formed a line—orderly and eager.
The orphanage manager sighed. She never failed to be amazed at this strange but consistent morning ritual.
It was time for Shin to hand out the bentos.
"Here's for Haru-nii and Amaya-nee."
"Thanks, Shin!!"
"Thanks as always, Shin."
Haru gave a loud thanks, while Amaya offered a more polite one.
"Here's for Riku-nii and Ren-nii."
"Thanks."
"Mnn."
Riku gave a short but grateful response, and Ren gave a polite nod.
As Shin continued handing out the bentos, Sakuya watched them with a soft expression. Her mind wandered to the events of the past six years.
At age six, Shin had entered elementary school.
Sakuya had been worried at first. Shin wasn't exactly the social type.
But somehow... he managed.
Though still quiet and monotone, Shin no longer ignored others. He even played with classmates—though rarely. He often preferred sitting in the corner, reading.
At the orphanage, he slowly became a part of things. Especially from the perspective of the four boys around his age. They often dragged him into games or activities, even if he tried to escape.
At seven, Shin was reluctantly dragged by classmates to explore and play. Though he preferred solitude, his peers occasionally managed to pull him in. He remained a loner at school but wasn't isolated.
At eight, Shin discovered gardening. He convinced Sakuya of its benefits—using arguments far too advanced for his age. Impressed and slightly overwhelmed, she allowed it.
He tended his garden with care.
Two months later, an accident ruined it.
For three days, Shin's eyes were blank. He refused to cook. The other orphans realized then—it had been Shin who had improved their meals all along.
After the manager helped the others apologize and repair the garden, Shin quietly returned to his duties. A large sign was soon placed: "Shin's Garden."
From then on, angering Shin—especially damaging something he valued—became an unspoken rule: Don't do it.
At nine, Shin received his own kitchen key.
It was also the year he took interest in bentos after overhearing the older orphans talk about budgeting and lunch. Shin started making them. At first, the others were surprised. Then, grateful.
That year marked a shift. The older orphans grew close to Shin. Some helped with chores, homework, or tending the garden. Not that Shin needed help—he was diligent and clever beyond his age.
Rumors also began circulating in town—of an unusually good bento. But no one could trace the source.
At ten, during summer, the orphanage partnered with a local convenience store. Shin's bentos were sold under a limited contract. They sold out daily. The owner even reserved one for himself.
Small fights often broke out in-store over who would get one.
Other shops grew curious, but the owner refused to disclose the source.
The money earned went straight back into the kitchen—improving tools, ingredients, and Shin's repertoire.
When the orphanage director visited, he was stunned by the food's quality.
He suspected expensive ingredients—only to learn they were mostly store-bought, with some grown in the orphanage's unusually fertile garden.
Funding was increased.
And for some reason, the director began visiting more often.
Sakuya sighed softly.
"To think it's already been six years. Children grow fast, ha~~" Sakuya murmured.
As she finished reminiscing, Shin approached, holding the final bento.
"Sakuya-obasan, here is your bento," Shin said in his usual monotone, but casual tone.
"You know, Shin, you don't always need to make my portion," Sakuya said with a warm smile as she accepted it.
"Well, if you don't want it, I'm always happy to take the extra~" Akiha chimed in jokingly.
"You must be joking, Akiha. Shin made this for me—I can't let it go to waste~" Sakuya replied with mock haughtiness.
The two women laughed and playfully bickered over the bento.
Meanwhile, Shin began preparing to head to school with the other children.
With the sound of children playing in the yard and the staff chatting nearby, Shin walked out alongside his fellow orphans, a small, warm smile tugging at his lips.