Kerin's parents have fought violently and abused substances all her life. When their latest brawl starts a custody case, she takes an opportunity and packs up with her siblings to be exchange students in Japan. Little does she know she'll meet someo...
The flight was simple. Boruto was on the IPad, drifting in and out of sleep, but constantly asking about how much longer it would take to arrive. Unwillingly, sitting next to him was Magudarin, who texted friends and scrolled through instagram, of course snacking on some hot cheetos. I'm going to have to get after her a lot for staying up all night on her phone. She already acts like a teenager, but she's only 11. My parents only really discipline if it's something that affects them or is expected of every parent, like chores or grades. They're so worried about looking like bad parents, but behind closed doors blow smoke in our faces and slap us for doing something wrong. I sadly have accepted my parents as the bad ones they are for a while though. I know they still love us. They just make it pretty hard to love them back. Drifting away from those bad thoughts, I doodled mindlessly and sipped water to ease motion sickness. After an exhausting 25 hours of Airport security, waiting, flying, and picking up our luggage, we were finally half asleep in the taxi on the way to our new home. The bright and colourful Tokyo lights reflected through the window onto my siblings' sleeping faces, and assumingly mine as well.
We eventually arrived at a small, simple family home. The quaint neighborhood was just down the road from my new High school, which hopefully meant I could make some friends my age in the neighborhood. The kid's elementary bused them from here as well, which I was thankful for. Being a (y/age) year old who has no idea how to drive/doesn't have the money for a car, it would get really old walking all the way to the kids' school with them and then all the way back to mine.
Taking a closer look at our new home, seeing that it is three stories is very surprising to me. Although I realise I'm not in America anymore, three stories is rare in my perspective. It sounds like overkill on space, but I'm sure there's just the right amount of rooms in this different layout. It's just one more thing to hit me in the face to show that I'm really far from home. I feel a bit anxious.
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Regardless of my anxiety, I get out of the car and carry the kids inside one by one, laying them on a simple grey couch. The house is very barren. Minimalist, if you will. Of course this is because they left the decorating up to us, they're just covering the necessities. Remembering our luggage, I stumble back outside, and the kind taxi driver helps me carry suitcases to the door. I tip him 4500 yen for the hassle, and he thanks me as he turns to walk away. "Arigato" he bellows in a tired, yet genuine voice. That one word struck me again. It's going to take a while to get used to constantly hearing, seeing, writing, and speaking Japanese.
I wadle back inside with our bags, and decide to explore. I surprisingly find the home quite fitting. the first floor had an empty, yet cozy, wooden kitchen, a plain grey living room, and subtly sea themed bathroom, along with a simple dark wooden table that seats 6 people. The second floor had two empty bedrooms and a plain bathroom, and the third a master bedroom, master bathroom, and an empty study with two computers.
I carry each of the kids up the stairs to their designated rooms on the second floor separately, laying them on the plain matresses, and returning to bring their bags. When I finally make it up to my room and set my bags down, I pass out on the mattress on a Sunday morning, at 4 a.m.
