In the dimly lit corner of the Tokyo internet cafe, I sat engrossed in the digital world of cryptocurrency trading. The hum of computer fans filled the air, and the monitors' glow illuminated my contemplative expression. My days were a never-ending cycle of trading, earning, and spending.

As an orphan, my life had been marked by solitude. I found solace in the virtual realm, where numbers and algorithms replaced the complexities of human interaction. But a sense of longing for a family, a place in this world, never left me.

Sometimes, I would take solitary walks in the nearby park, watching families bond and share tender moments. It both warmed my heart and filled me with envy. I yearned to understand what it was like to belong to a family.

One fateful evening, on my way back from a restaurant to the internet cafe, I stumbled upon a commotion. Drawn to the disturbance, I witnessed a lifeless woman on the pavement, a pool of crimson around her. Beside her, a young girl cried with an intensity impossible to ignore or forget.

Uncertain of how to handle such situations, I walked away that night. But the memory of that girl's heart-wrenching cries haunted my every thought. Her pain echoed in my mind long after I returned to the comfort of the internet cafe.

Days passed, and the image of the girl haunted me. I couldn't ignore it any longer. One evening, as I left the cafe, I saw the same spot, the dried blood, and the weight of discomfort settled in my stomach. I decided to seek help, to visit a nearby hospital.

As I exited the hospital, there she was, the girl with sunken cheeks, her throat parched from crying. I couldn't hold back any longer. I asked, "Where is your father?"

She stared at me with eyes carrying a lifetime of pain but said nothing. In that moment, I realized that no one was coming for her. The truth hung heavy in the air, binding our fates together.