I know!!! I finally got one for Shirako!!!

Shirako Takamoto pulled up to the back entrance of one of Los Angeles' Salvation Army buildings. He left the Acceledrome extremely early in the morning so he could get here in time.

With a yawn, the young Japanese got out of his car and walked up to the plain, wooden door that served as the kitchen entrance. Not far from him, Shirako could see the chef's small garden, which was brown and empty now, because of the present season. Upon entering, Shirako was greeted with the warm, moist, roomy kitchen.

"Well, well, well. Look who just came in! I thought you weren't comin' for a while there, honey," a small, aging black woman said when she saw him.

Shirako smiled. "Hey, Ms. Pam."

They hugged while others shouted their greetings from their work stations. A tall Hispanic walked in holding an apron and hair net. "Put these on, Shirako! We've got work to do! Vamos!"

The Teku member was soon cutting up vegetables for a soup, while happily exchanging conversation with the other kitchen workers. Though he only came on Christmas Eve, and sometimes Christmas day, he had made such an impression on them that each year they all got to know him better and better, so he felt like an old friend that came more often.

It had started nine years ago, when Shirako was then. His father had just moved the family to America from Japan, in search for better work. Shirako's father had found a low-paying temporary job and so had his mother. So, with both parents out working all day and everyday, Shirako was left to fend for himself at their tiny apartment until they got home. And along with this limited parental authority, he also had a free leash. Everyday, with the apartment key in his picket, Shirako would go out and do whatever.

Flashback

The small boy sat on the work bench, listening intently to the mechanic explaining the engine to him. Though he didn't understand much English, and spoke even less, little Shirako Takamoto didn't let that stop him from learning as much about cars as possible. The aging mechanic spoke slowly, carefully articulating his words while he also pointed at the objects he was talking about.

It was Christmas Eve, and the only reason the mechanic was working was because of the little Japanese boy that came everyday to the repair shop. Today was the last "lesson" until the twenty-sixth of December.

Glancing at the clock, the man suddenly stopped. "Oh man! I need to get home!"

Shirako's brow knitted together in thought. He recognized 'I' and 'home,' but not the other words. But he easily figured out that the man needed to get home.

Slipping off the bench, he asked, "Tomorrow?"

The man looked at him. "No, not tomorrow. The day after tomorrow."

Shirako licked his lip. He couldn't remember what 'after' meant.

Seeing this, the man grabbed a calendar. Pointing to the twenty-fifth, he said. "Not tomorrow." He traced an X with his finger on the date. "The day after tomorrow." He tapped the twenty-sixth several times. Then, he repeated the motions, making sure the boy understood.

Shirako did and nodded to the man. Grabbing his jacket, the boy waved goodbye to the friendly mechanic and left.

The light outside was dimming, and a familiar pain in his stomach was growing. He was hungry, and he only had an apple for his lunch. Shirako, however, wasn't worried. His parents would be home when he got back, and dinner would be ready. Then he stopped. He remembered his parents saying something about being home late that night.

Suddenly, Shirako was much hungrier than before. Gnawing in his bottom lip, he looked around, hoping for an idea to come to mind.

While he was thinking about his little predicament, it occurred to Shirako that he could quite vividly smell a hot meal. The smell seemed to be coming from a large, rather plain, building across the street. In front of it, a tall pole stood with a red shield with white lettering on it.

The hungry boy quickly ran across the road and went around the building, soon finding the kitchen door. He slowly opened it and peeked in. Within he could see people chopping up vegetables, gathering plates, and preparing desserts. Shirako knew that this wasn't a hotel, or a restaurant, so he couldn't figure out why they were preparing so much food. Suddenly, one of the people spotted him.

At first, Shirako wanted to withdraw, thinking he was in trouble. But the friendly smile and beckoning motions convinced him otherwise. Timidly, he entered the warm kitchen while everyone looked at him.

"Honey, are you hungry?" The woman asked.

Shirako only understood the last two words, and he understood that the sentence was a question, and vigorously nodded.

A few people chuckled good-naturedly.

The woman was soon rushing him in and quickly set a bowl of stew with cornbread before him. Shirako wasted no time in gobbling up the food.

"What's you're name, sugah?" The woman asked.

After a moment of mental translation, Shirako answered in slow English. "My name is Shirako."

When the black lady realized his English wasn't very good, she carefully replied, "My name is Ms. Pam."

The young boy smiled back and said, "Ms. Pam."

After his meal, Shirako watched them get ready for dinner, and even helped cut up some vegetables. When the meal was ready, homeless men and woman lined up to receive their Christmas Eve meals. Observing all of this, Shirako decided that he wanted to do it again.

End Flashback

And so, he's been doing it ever since.

In a few hours time, Shirako and the others had finished making the meal, and were now serving it to hundreds of men, woman, and children.

Sooo...did you like it? I hope so. Taro's comin' up next.