I remember everyone saying how great the future would be. Cars would be door less, goop
things that would fly and cancer would be a thing of the past. Wow, how people were
wrong. There are no flying cars…no crazy cures for cancer, not even for the fricking cold.
Nothing hovers and nobody lives on the moon. Everything is pretty much the same. Cars run
a little easier and the city has gotten a heck of a lot busier. There aren't any more street
vendors…well, you have the occasional hotdog vendor on the corner and the newspapers,
but that's about it. And if there are vendors, the food is under lock and key. I guess they got
tired of scum like us taking everything. I suppose I should explain a few things, that may help
a bit.
Well, its about the 5th of September, 2004. I managed to stay with Emily and Eric, who
schooled me enough to get the job I have today. I have regularly gone and visited Tomoyo,
who had the dashing rescue I've dreamed of. I'll start there I suppose.
You of course, remember our sappy reunion, the hugging and squealing when we were
about 16 years or so. I had kept my promise and visited her as often as I could, until one
day, her eighteenth birthday actually, I had gotten word that she had randomly quit, nobody
sure of where she went. It wasn't until about two hours later that I had figured out that After
about 7 months of looking, Eriol had found out where Tomoyo was. He just bust right into
the restaurant and swept her off her feet, almost literally. Last I knew, they were engaged…
well, at least that's what I am understanding from Tomoyo, who has yet to remover her hand
from the violated two inches of my face, hoping I am ogling the rock on her hand as much as
she is.
"Ohh, its so amazingly beautiful! Isn't it?" She squealed for about the eight time, Eriol
grinning from behind us, rocking back on his chair a bit.
"Yes Tomoyo, its gorgeous, as I've said for about a million times. Now please remove your
ring from my cornea and sit down. Your such a spaz." I sighed, shrugging her away from me
and sitting down, watching her frown and sit down next to her fiancé. Eriol smiled. Which
was unusual today, because normally these meetings of ours never bode well.
"So? Any news? ASIDE from the fact that your getting married" I blurted, hoping to stop
Tomoyos desperate attempts for attention. Eriol shrugged.
"Only that he called me the other day from his apartment in New York City." He said the
grin on his face growing wider, showing a few white specks of teeth. I think I stopped
breathing at that point, It took the annoyance of the neighbors baby screaming to snap me
back.
"New York City?" I asked, making sure I didn't here him wrong. Ne nodded and folded his
hands across his stomach.
"Yup. But, don't get your hopes up Sakura, there's like a million people in the city. I was
lucky I found Tomoyo. Who knows what your outcome may be." he said, staring at me
firmly. I nodded.
" I know. But at least there may be some chance that I could see him. Just for a moment to
know that he's alive would be enough for me." I shrugged, Tomoyo scoffed and rolled her
eyes.
"oh please, you cant possibly tell me that if you saw him you wouldn't hesitate a second to
fling yourself at him, tackling him to the ground." she laughed. I threw my shoe at her.
"OWW. But seriously. What if he has somebody? Hmm? What if, by some completely
NORMAL chance he moved on?? What you two did while we were gone, though
unbeknownst to us completely, from what you said, it wasn't anything special. Eriol and I,
we were different." Tomoyo said, shrugging and sipping her iced tea.
"Thank you Tomoyo. For your warm insight. But I suppose your right. He's probably
forgotten all about me… it was like, practically ten years ago. He's probably married and
completely happy. Last thing he needs is some bad memory bothering him." I said, choking
on my words a bit.
"Um. Okay, I have to go to work. Soooo, you know where the door is." I muttered, getting
up and walking inside. I could have sworn I heard Eriol scolding her, but I could have been
wrong.
Journalism was one of the top jobs to have right now, and I was one of the lucky people to
have said job. I say lucky in a semi-negative way, because in all reality, this jobs a crock.
Sure, doing all the digging and whatnot for a story is great fun, but the whole typing gig and
the million drafts and edits you have to go through is so insane, by the time your actually
finished, the article is almost nothing like what you had in mind to begin with. Today, when I
was called into the head honcho's office, I was expecting some stupid cover of the
salmonella outbreak in the sushi district. I was pleasantly surprised, however, when I
discovered that was to write about something I knew all too well about. Orphans. My boss,
her name is Laci, by the way, received the option to do a cover story on the perils of Orphan
kids a couple days ago, and the first person to come to mind to write this story was me.
Mainly because she knew my background and knew what I had gone through. So basically,
I was to write an expose on my childhood and teenage years. However, I was to make it in
the form of an anecdote or something, while the rest of the article was statistics, facts, myths,
all that jazz. And it had to be a thousand words, due on her desk by Monday. Ouch.
Considering it was Wednesday, I was gonna have to bust my ass for this one.
Starting out with the easy part, I got the research done in about a day and a half. It was
surprising that the number of orphans has increased so flipping much, but not because of a
logical cause like death, but because their parents disown them. They basically decide that
they don't want um anymore and chuck the kids out on the streets. Luckily, there are more
kids in orphanages or foster homes than there are in the streets anymore. Not so much like it
was when I was on the streets. But I think I wouldn't have cared either way, I probably
would have found myself on the streets again anyway.
I sat at my computer desk, mindlessly tapping my pen on the desk and wracking my brain
for things I could use in my article. The research was done, now all I had to do was figure
out which parts about our childhood I was willing to make public. And then, like in the
cartoons, a light bulb flashed and everything fell into place. I knew exactly what to write and
how to phrase it. Swiveling my chair around to face the monitor and keyboard, I grinned and
began typing;
A Place to Call Home
Sakura Kinomoto
(Authors Note
When my boss came to me asking me to write a hard hitting story about orphans, I
was only too happy to do it. But not because it might score me a few extra brownie
points as a journalist, but because I have been there.)
You look around you and see the every day hustle and bustle of the city. Taxis and
Cars caught in the never-ending traffic jams. Newspaper and hotdog vendors making
a living, families, couples and the like traversing the ever busy streets. But what about
what goes on behind the normalcy? What about that shadow you think you saw out of
the corner of your eye, but was gone when you turned to get a better look? Was it a
trick of light? A mugger? Thieves, rapists, murderers? Hardly. What you thought you
saw was no trick of light, but a child. An Orphan.
We live in a society today where if we don't want it to exist, it doesn't. Or so we think.
Take a moment to realize that there have been countless times where you have
disregarded something because you couldn't accept it. The truth remains that it
doesn't go away. Its still there, still posing a problem for everyone, whether you
choose to realize it or not. That's how people are dealing with today's homeless. At
least 9 percent of all homeless people are children, parentless for some reason or
another. Forced to scavenge the streets in order to stay alive. Sure there are the lucky
ones who were found and placed up for adoption, but what about those that remain
hidden? I'm sure nobody notices them.
In 2003, most of the reported robberies, break ins, and the like, were committed by
children. That same year, at least 100 children were taken from the streets and into
Orphanages and Foster homes, but that still left a good 100 more out there to fend for
themselves. By December 2003, one out of every four dead bodies found on the streets
or in the alleys, was that of a child, killed by the harsh New York winters. Now, in
2004, statistics have found that the number of children on the streets has lessened a
bit, but is still at a high number. I make such a big deal about this because I know
what it is like to survive the harsh winters and scavenge for food. If you'll listen, I
have a story to tell you.
When I was five, my father passed away and my mother and I sailed a ship to America
from Japan, my home country. During our trip, one of the boilers exploded and 500
people, one of them being my mother were killed. That left me orphaned. I was taken
in by the social services, they found that I had no family here and none back home, so
they placed me in an orphanage. But to me, it was more like a prison (Literally, the
building was a converted jailhouse from the '20s). I had no friends, spoke little English
and was somewhat of an outcast. So I ran. And I became another statistic, brought to
survive on the streets as an orphan.
However, it was the streets I grew accustomed to. Getting food wasn't too hard,
granted I had to steal it. And soon enough, I was taken in by a band of Vagabond
orphans like myself, just trying to survive. I wont tell you their names, they know who
they are and that's all that matters. But anyways. I lived with them for a good five
years. Yes, five years, when I was thirteen. Five years of going unnoticed by anyone,
not even the cops. We had made home an old bridge and then later, a building
scheduled for demo. We survived by dividing into groups and going out to 'hunt', to
nab whatever we could, by any means necessary.
By the time I was thirteen, public awareness of street children had grown strong, and
soon, there were police around almost 24/7 making sure to grab any 'street rats' so
they called us. The summer of my thirteenth year, the police had found most of the
people in our group and taken them to an orphanage. That left me an one other
person, we grew very cautious to stay away from the cops at any cost and grew very
protective of each other. But not even that was enough. We eventually got caught and
sent to the one place we didn't want to end up; an Orphanage.
We were separated the six of us, none of us were sent to the same place and in time,
we all got adopted. I went to an amazing couple, who I proudly call my parents. They
welcomed me with open arms and took me in as their own, not thinking twice about
who I was or where I had been, what I had done. That was 10 years ago. About that
time I was reunited with one of the people I traveled with, she was still in an
orphanage, but I was rooting for her. She never got adopted. However, she was swept
off of her feet by the one person she loved, who happened to be another of our group.
I have since kept contact with them and see them regularly. I briefly saw two others of
the group, but never got the chance to talk, I only hope their lives turned for the
better. As for one, the leader of the group, we still have yet to find him. Though I know
he's out there somewhere.
My point in all of this is quite simple. And if I may say it so bluntly: being an orphan
sucks. Take a second and imagine what it would be like to hide in the dark and smelly
alleys of New York, to know that you are alone in the world, no parents to hold you
and tell you everything will be okay. Then imagine living in an orphanage where you
have to share everything (And I do mean EVERYTHING) with at least fifty other kids,
all of whom are waiting to get out of there because the owner of the buildings goal is
to get rid of you, like your not worth their time. Its terrible right? No child should live
like that, we've enough problems in the world already, lets not force the children to
endure the same issues.
(If you want to know more about Orphanages, Orphans, Foster care, or adopting a
child, do not hesitate to call your residential social services office.)
I saved the file and printed it out immediately, rushing up the three flights of stairs to Laci's
office, where she was just getting ready to head home.
"LACI!" I said, startling her a bit.
"Sweet Genius Sakura…scare me out of my skin why don't you. What's up?" she asked as
I handed her my article.
"Done?? Already? Man, Sakura, I think you just broke some sort of record somewhere.
Alright, come on in, ill take a look at it." I nodded and followed her inside. Sitting down at
her desk, she sighed and placed the papers in front of her, beginning to read. I sat there
patiently and somewhat anxious. I really hoped all I needed was one draft. That was
practically confirmed when I saw a tear fall onto the paper. Laci gets very emotional on
topics like these. I waited about ten minutes before she sighed, put down the papers, and
wiped her eyes.
"You…You went through all of that?" she asked, her brown eyes boring
into me.
"Yep." I nodded, almost like it was nothing. She smiled a bit and leaned back in her chair.
" I'll send this down in the morning, don't even think about fixing it. Its brilliant." She sighed,
clutching the article for dear life and standing up.
"Thanks Sakura" She said, as she escorted me out of the door.
"I'll see you tomorrow. Your article should be out in the papers by Wednesday. I'll tell
Adam to get me some pics of an orphanage and some kids to go with this and you got
yourself the front page. Good work." She said, stepping into the elevator and waving her
fingers as the door slid to a close. First page. Hells yes! That called for some definite happy
dancing.
Wednesday rolled around and my stomach was in knots as I was handed my morning
Times. A large picture of my orphanage, the one I ran away from, was splattered on the
front page with a headline of " Child Homelessness at large" nice heading. I flipped the paper
out and scanned the page, there it was, my article, graced with pictures of depressed looking
kids and some black bold captions. My story covered two pages and it seemed that no
matter what person I looked at, they were all reading the same article…mine.
Thursday sunk in and the headline of the morning paper read; " Kinomoto article raises
awareness" Um…okay. That's really good, but I never realized that a lil article would cause
two days worth of hubbub. As I flipped through the pages, I came across the Readers
Response section, a few pages dedicated to letters the readers put in, in regards to a certain
article. Most of them had to do with mine. Good lord. Most of them had to do with
commending me on my excellent writing and how much my story touched them. Then there
was one that really caught my eye. It was short, but it made my breath catch in my throat.
" As I read this article, I smiled at how well she described everything without giving
way to the gory details. She probably wont read this, and probably doesn't care but im
writing to make it known that 'the leader of the vagabonds' has read it and nearly
choked up, which is saying a lot for me. Glad to heat im missed and actually worth
looking for.
-Just another Street Rat"
I think I started crying, or it was raining on me only, cause my face was streaked and my
eyes were red. I tucked the paper under my arm and began running as fast as I could down
main street and made my way towards Tomoyo and Eriols apartment.
Woooo… that was a long chapter. But a good one no?? YAY she found Syaoran…
in a way. They haven't actually seen each other…yet. But she did find Eriol!
HURRRAHH! Ahh, sorry, im on a sugar high right now. Anywho, review and tell
me what you think!
Until Next time!
Ja!
Kirra