Ever since I was a child, I've felt out of place.
Like an ink stain on a clean white page.
In my own family, I was the odd one out.
The one no one noticed.
The one they turned away from.
In our house, love had invisible walls I could never seem to cross.
So I dreamed of escape.
Of somewhere far away —
A place where I could breathe freely.
Where my absence wouldn't matter.
Where I could finally just exist, without apologizing for it.
Asia always held a strange pull on me.
A distant world, mysterious, quietly promising.
Over the years, I taught myself its languages — Japanese, Chinese, Korean, English… even a little Thai — the way some people draw maps before running away.
I was ready.
One day, I made the choice: I would leave.
Start over.
In Japan.
My parents?
They didn't care.
Their indifference was like a wall — cold, silent, impenetrable — that only pushed me farther away.
Leaving wasn't a decision anymore. It was a survival instinct.
A month after I arrived in Tokyo, I found a part-time job at a yatai — one of those small traditional food stalls on the street.
Under a red tarp that smelled of noodles and hot broth, I met the woman who ran it — a kind old lady with tired eyes, a soft voice, and hands worn by time.
For the first time, I felt welcomed. No judgment. No conditions.
And then one rainy evening...
– "Good evening, welcome. What can I get for you?" I asked politely.
One of the men stared at me.
He didn't smile.
His face was cold, sculpted — like something carved in stone.
Striking.
Too perfect to belong in a place like this.
He didn't fit.
Not in this humble little food stall.
He looked like he carried an entire different world on his shoulders.
He didn't move. He didn't speak.
But his eyes…
They were sharp. Silent. Cutting.
He watched me like someone reading a situation, assessing risk — or maybe just observing something… unfamiliar.
There was something about him that demanded silence.
Respect.
Fear, even.
And still, I couldn't look away.
Eventually, I dropped my gaze.
My heart had started to race, and I didn't know why.
– "Four bowls of soy noodles, and two bottles of sake," one of the other men ordered.
– "Coming right up."
I hurried to the kitchen, trying to shake the weight of that stare.
When the dishes were ready, I served them and went back behind the counter.
Everything had gone strangely quiet.
Too quiet.
Then the door slammed open.
Three men walked in, loud and aggressive.
The air shifted immediately.
One of them, bald and tall, stepped toward my boss with a nasty grin.
– "Hey, old lady! You're two months late. Give us the money now, or we'll torch the place."
I froze.
Loan sharks.
My boss turned pale, stepping back with shaking hands.
– "I… I don't have it yet. Please, just give me another month…"
Without a word, the second man shoved her.
She stumbled into a stool and fell.
– "What the hell is wrong with you?!" I yelled, rushing over. "Don't you have any shame?"
One of them turned toward me, grinning.
– "Look at that… a little gaijin trying to play hero."
He grabbed me by the waist and squeezed my hip.
– "Not bad. For a foreigner..."
Disgust rose in my throat.
Without thinking, I reached into my apron, pulled out my chopsticks, and stabbed them into his eye.
He screamed and stumbled back.
I grabbed a chair and threw it at them.
Then I snatched a kitchen knife and stood between them and the old woman.
– "The next one who touches her — or me — I'll cut his throat."
The man on the floor writhed, clutching his eye.
The other snarled.
– "You're lucky. Next time, if the money's not there, we'll burn everything down. Including you, bitch."
They left.
I stayed frozen for a moment, then exhaled slowly.
My whole body was trembling.
– "Are you alright?" I asked, turning to the old woman. "Did they hurt you?"
– "I'm fine… Thank you, Amal. Thank you..."
Then I remembered the four customers.
I turned to look.
They were still there. Still standing.
And he…
He was still watching me.
Motionless.
Expressionless.
Not surprised. Not impressed.
This time, his gaze sent a chill down my spine.
Not fear. Something colder than that.
Then he turned, and walked out with the others.
Without a word.
I stood there for a second, stunned.
Then I cleaned the mess, and offered to walk my boss home.
That night, I stayed with her.
Still shaken.
Still wondering who that man was, and why his silence had felt louder than any scream.
I didn't know it yet, but that night…everything had already started to change...
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