Chapter one

Emi Morishita. There was her name on the lease in black and white, the Kanji stood out starkly against the white paper. The following paragraph was basically outlining the contract her parents had worked out. They were very affluent people and in everything they did the portrayed perfection. Emi no longer fit that image. Emi was flawed and her perfect family could not have a flawed daughter. Emi was damaged goods as far as they saw.

Emi had a genetic disorder, one that she had inherited from her oh-so-perfect mother. But of course there wasn't any proof. The doctors had said it was a freak mutation that caused it even though the first test they had run had showed beyond a shadow of a doubt that she had inherited it from her mother. The look on her face as Emi lay in the hospital, an IV in her arm pumping her full of pain medication was nothing short of unfiltered rage.

She had been given her diagnosis and a not so positive prognosis. Emi would get worse, the pain would get worse and she may end up permanently in a wheelchair, eighty percent of the time if not permanently. But all Emi's parents heard was "imperfection". And that was something they couldn't have.

And that led to where she was now; sitting in the main room of an old house that on her own she would never be able to afford. It was a nice house and had room upon room for her to fill with whatever she wanted. Her parents had bought the house outright and would pay her bills and pay for her medication, even give her an allowance so she could buy books and movies. That had been her dad's idea. And groceries would be delivered whenever she needed if she filled out an order form and mailed it to a specific person.

The only stipulation? She had to change her last name and could never tell anyone who her parents were. If she broke that most essential rule then all of the money would stop and she would be on her own, disabled from pain and with no one to help her. It was a harsh realization that this was what her life had become but as she read through the paperwork there was glaring evidence that her parents did not love her. Her father may like her but that was it. He liked her the way you liked a peanut butter sandwich every once in a while.

And she had signed it, with her new name of course, her new ID sitting on the table beside the paperwork.

Emi Morishita, age eighteen. Date of birth: December 24 1992. Her real birth-date was the only thing her parents had let her keep.

"Oh, Miss Morishita your father has added a new clause in the contract," he pulled out a separate sheet of paper from the ebony colored briefcase at his side. The table between them had come with the house, as had the tea set that was between them. Even the tea they were drinking had come with the house. It was her favorite kind as well, a type of fruity tea that she had loved her entire life. And the only one who knew that was her father. The tea set was one she had seen in a store and fallen in love with and it was here too. The table was simple, something that anything could be matched with. Her father's attention to detail; to details about her, was almost as painful as the pain in her legs and spine.

"It will cover any college tuition should you choose to attend university, online or in person although your mother requested heavily that you pick a course of education that would actually be useful-nothing like photography. That's actually outlined in the contract." He said and pushed the paper towards her. Emi read through it, looking for any loopholes or any punishments that might befall her but there seemed to be nothing. Emi took up her pen and signed her name to the additional clause.

The lawyer read over everything and after a few minutes he smiled and stacked the papers together, and placed them back in that shiny ebony colored briefcase.

"Well everything seems to be in order. Here," he handed her the credit card that was opened in her name and linked to the allowance account. "Have a pleasant day Miss Morishita." He stood and bowed to her and left the home, sliding the wooden door shut. The sound of the wood slamming together was a very oddly final sound.

This house was hers. It was empty and full of things that had most likely been bought by her father. But she was alone. As she looked around the room she saw an antiques cabinet that was empty and bookshelves lined the walls. Those were filled with the books from her old room. In the far corner was her wheelchair and beside that was a walker. Lying next to her was a cane.

It was aluminum and purple with a soft grip and a rubber foot and it folded into four parts that stayed connected so the cane could be put in a carrying case. She picked it up, unfolded it and used it to stand.

Her knees and back screamed as she stood and tears sprang to her eyes but she ignored the blurred vision she was suffering and limped to her new room. She slid the door open and found a bed that she honestly couldn't be more excited to climb into. It was huge and very fluffy looking. There was a desk with a lamp and a desktop computer, the same one from her old room and there was a small bookshelf in the corner. She limped to the closet and found it full of all of her clothing. Her wardrobe consisted dresses that came down mid-shin and tights. It helped her to hide the swelling in her knees. It was something she was ashamed of and really wanted to hide it.

She limped to the bed and found she could reach the lamp on the desk. The room was getting dark-the sun was setting and there were dark purple curtains that were closed over the windows. She laid down and dropped the cane and sighed. She turned onto her left side and was face to face with a phone on the wall between the bed and the desk. There was a piece of paper that was taped beneath it with a bunch of phone numbers on it. They were various doctors and the lawyer that had been there just a little while ago. Then various numbers for the groceries store that she was supposed to fill out the orders for when she was low on food and phone numbers for various universities. There was every phone number possible there...except for her parents.

Her right side was far worse than her left; she had torn the muscles in the right hip and thigh into shreds and the muscles had never healed right, it was part of the genetic problem. She also had a tear in the muscle around her spinal cord and a bulging disc. Not to mention the torn ligaments in her knees. And she rolled onto her bad side, slide under the blanket and used the pain she was feeling as a personal excuse to cry over loosing her parents. When she finally fell asleep her pillow was soggy from tears.

Emi woke in agony in the middle of the night. Falling asleep on her worse side just so she had an excuse for herself to cry had been an absolutely stupid thing to do and she was paying the price. Her muscles were spasming so much that she was in tears the second she woke up and it took her a moment to realize what was going on.. She puled the drawer out on her desk, knowing she would find her medication right where it had been in her old room-another touch from her father. How he could have done all of this to make her comfortable but not fought for her made her increasingly angry as she grabbed for her cane and limped to her kitchen with the pill bottles in one hand. The small fridge was full of her favorite food and drinks, something that angered her even more and by the time she had taken her medication the plastic tea bottle had been flung, half full across the kitchen, spilling its contents all over the floor.

As Emi leaned on the counter, catching her breath and trying to decide on whether to clean the mess or leave it in an act of some sort of rebellious behavior against his family and her genetics, there was a knock on the door and a female voice calling out a warm and happy early morning greeting.

With a heavy sigh Emi wiped her eyes dry on the hem of her shirt which, surprisingly hadn't wrinkled in her sleep, she limped heavily to the main room and swapped her cane for her walker. She had long gotten over the shame of using the walker-really who would care about seeing her with it? Her own family didn't care about her so it didn't matter if some random person saw her with it. She wheeled it to the doors and with more strength than she knew she had, put on a smile and opened it.

"Hello ma'am," she said after she saw the middle-aged woman. "I would bow but,"she smilingly looked down at the walker. The woman looked shocked and quickly recovered. "Please come in." She moved out of the way and once the woman was inside she shut the door with a quivering arm. Her medication hadn't kicked in yet but the pain was in full swing—the bulging disc pressing hard on a nerve that sent fire up her body.

"Oh please I wouldn't dream to ask you to. I just wanted to stop by and say hello. You see this house has been sitting up here empty for years and I was just curious as to who moved in. I can't hide my curiosity,"she said with a laugh. Emi smiled at her warmly and moved with her walker toward the kitchen to make tea and the woman rushed over to stop her. "Oh no please! It was kind enough of you to even let me in. I can't ask you to make me tea in your condition."she smiled at her. At the mention of her condition Emi found herself swallowing bile.

Her admittedly 'curious' neighbor- assuming that was code for nosy, saw the spilled tea and the bottle on the floor.

"Here, let me clean this up for you."The woman said. "Oh how silly of me! My name is Maori Kanri, it's nice to meet you!" for a middle-aged woman this Maori Kanri was a very bright and chipper woman. It threw Emi off for a second. "Where's your mop at sweetheart?" she asked as Emi sat in the chair at the table; it too would match anything. There were touches of her father everywhere she looked and it made her ache even worse.

Maori asked where the mop was and Emi pointed to the hall closet where she knew it would be and Maori Kanri, a woman who didn't know her from a can of paint, cleaned up the spilled tea ad picked up the bottle, placing it in the plastic recycling bin.

"There. Nice and clean."

"Thank you very much ma'am." Emi said and Maori waved her thanks away with a bright smile.

"Down here in the forest we have to look out for one another. I don't want to push my limits but I have a son who is just a few years older than you. He is always helping people and maybe he could help you." Emi opened her mouth quickly to argue but Maori talked over her. "Sweetheart you need help. And he needs someone to help more often. So why don't we just see how it works out?" She said with a smile that seemed to never leave her face. Emi knew that she wasn't going to be able to talk her out of it. Her silence seemed to be all the agreement Maori needed and she left her phone number with her and her son's name and promised to bring him by later that day as long as Emi was up for it.

With that Maori left, leaving Emi feeling as if she'd been spun around by a whirlwind and was exhausted by it all. She sat at the table and looked at the names and phone numbers. Maori Kanri and her son, twenty year old Daisuke Kanri.