During school assignments or duo projects, Azusa always wanted to work with me. I appreciated it—it spared me the humiliation of being everyone's last choice.
Still, because everyone else wanted to pair up with Azusa, I often got jealous glares. I didn't like the attention that came with being Azusa's so-called "favorite."
"Where should we work on the project?" Azusa asked with a bright smile.
"What are the options?" I replied.
"We have... the school library!"
"Meh. Surrounded by all the jealous stares from our classmates and the rest of the school? No thank you."
"Then... what about the public library?"
"I don't want strangers snapping photos or videos of us without me knowing. Or disturbing us just to ask for a selfie while we're trying to work."
"I hear you! Then... what about... your place?"
My place? The children's home? No way.
"That's not an option," I said bluntly.
"Huh, what? Why not?" she asked. "I'd love to meet your family. Your parents, and siblings, if you have any?"
Azusa didn't know that I was abandoned at birth—left at a baby hatch. I have no idea who my parents are, and no clue if I even have siblings. I don't have a family.
"What's the other option?" I asked, avoiding her question.
"Well... my place," she said, flashing a faint smile.
"I'd prefer your place over mine."
"Why though?"
She's my best—and only—friend, but I still couldn't tell her the truth. Not yet.
"Let's just go already," I sighed. "The more we talk about where to go, the more time we waste. Lead the way to your place."
"Fine..." she said with a little grin.
We arrived at the Saegusa residence. Azusa opened the front door with her keys.
"I'm home!" she called out as we took off our shoes and left them at the entrance.
"Welcome back," a Japanese woman said. I assumed she was Azusa's mother. "I see you brought a friend..."
"Yeah," Azusa replied, "she's my best friend and classmate—the one I always make lunchboxes for. She's also my partner for a school project. We're going to work in my room."
"Alright."
I don't know why, but the way Azusa and her mother interacted felt off. It was like Azusa was hoping for a warmer response, but the woman only offered cold, curt replies. Why?
From the living room, one girl and one boy watched us. They were definitely younger than Azusa and me. The girl looked about 12, the boy around 10. Probably her younger siblings. But they looked like full-blooded Japanese kids, unlike Azusa. That confused me...
"Let's go," Azusa said, and I followed her to her room where we began working on the project.
After a while, we took a break.
"Want something to eat or drink, Chisa-chan?" she asked.
"Just give me whatever you like," I said.
"No," she chuckled, "I should give you what you like. You're the guest, right?"
"Surprise me, then."
"Alright!" she smiled.
She left to grab snacks and drinks, and returned about fifteen minutes later.
"I brought ocha—green tea, sencha—for a calming effect and a little caffeine! And senbei—crunchy, savory rice crackers with soy flavor!"
"Thanks," I said, taking a bite. "Delicious."
"Hehehe," Azusa beamed. "Is it?"
"Yeah." I took a sip of tea. "I like the tea too. Did you make both?"
"I did," she said, smiling faintly. "You'd think my 'mother' would prepare it, like most moms do... but my home situation's a little different."
"What do you mean?"
"She isn't my biological mother—she's my stepmother," Azusa explained. That made everything click. The kids in the living room were her half-siblings.
"She never does anything for me. Unless my father's watching. But he's hardly ever home. Always working or abroad on business."
I had no idea Azusa lived like that. I always assumed she had a perfect life. But appearances deceive.
"She does everything for her own kids. But not for me. I'm not her daughter. Still, I try to impress her... to bond with her. But it's no use."
"I'm sorry," I said. "I had no idea."
"It's okay," she chuckled softly. "No one knows. You're the first person I've told."
She really did see me as her best friend.
"So your father's Japanese, then," I said. "What about your mom?"
"She's British. She lives in the Netherlands," Azusa replied. "Honestly, I'm thinking about moving there after high school."
That surprised me.
"I'll live alone. In a studio or something. Her husband is just like my dad's wife—cold, distant. Their kids don't even try to connect with me."
"Then why move to the Netherlands?"
"I don't know... I guess I hope to find more people like you. Maybe there, I'll find what I've been looking for. Will you come with me? We could live in a studio together. It'll be fun!"
"I'll go with you—even if you moved to the freezing continent of Antarctica or the scorching Sahara Desert. I'd still go with you, Azusa," I said.
Her eyes lit up.
"Because you're all I have."
"What do you mean?" she asked. "Don't you have a family?"
"I... I don't..." I confessed. Her expression froze.
"My parents abandoned me at birth—left me at a baby hatch. I was raised in a children's home where I'm constantly abused and discriminated against. Not just by the other kids, but by the adults too."
"To think even in a children's home, kids still find the heart to abuse others..." Azusa sighed, holding back tears. "There really is a hierarchy everywhere. And somehow, you ended up at the bottom. Even though you're such a beautiful soul. The world is so unfair."
"I've also been bullied in elementary and middle school. I hate this environment. I've wished for death so many times... even considered suicide."
"Chisa..." Azusa burst into tears.
"But everything changed when I met you. You made life more bearable. Thank you. I owe you my life."
She shook her head. "You've helped and supported me too. You don't owe me anything. That's what friends are for."
"Friends..." I smiled through my own tears. "Right. Friends."
"You'll have to learn Dutch, though!" she laughed. "How else will you study there?"
"I don't know... maybe an international school?"
"Maybe—but Dutch will still be useful."
"Do you speak Dutch?"
"Fluently!" she said proudly. I didn't quite see what there was to be proud of.
"You should teach me."
"Zal ik doen!"
"What..."
"That means, 'I'll do it!'"
"Okay..."
"'Okay' works in Dutch too," she giggled. "But you can also say 'is goed.'"
"Is goed?"
"Haha! Yes! That Japanese accent—this is hilarious!"
She was definitely enjoying this a little too much.
"What does 'is goed' mean?"
"Think logically. Based on English..."
"Does it mean... 'very well'?"
"Correct!"
"It sounds like 'is good' in English—that's how I guessed."
"You'll learn Dutch in no time. You're a natural!"
"Well... thanks."
"Who named you Chisa?" she asked.
"The people at the children's home said there was a name tag attached to me. So I guess my parents did," I replied. "Why?"
"Then I don't think they abandoned you willingly," she said. "I think they were forced to leave you."
"Huh?" I was confused.
"Your name, 祐咲—Chisa. 祐 means 'Help of God' or 'Divine assistance.' 咲 means 'Bloom' or 'Blossom.' Together, your name evokes divine protection and the beauty of growth. Why would anyone name their child that if they intended to abandon them?"
"I... I don't know... maybe it's just coincidence."
"I doubt it. They gave you that name and made sure it stuck by leaving a tag. That means something."
Maybe Azusa was right...
"And I saw you have a second name," she said.
"Where?"
"On the school attendance list, I think. What was it again? Tshi... Tshi..."
"Tshilela."
"That's clearly not Japanese..."
"I probably got it from my father—maybe he was American."
"Have you ever looked it up?"
"No... I'm not interested in finding out about my origins. They abandoned me, Azusa. Willingly or not—they still did."
"But maybe it would help you understand yourself better," she said gently.
"I guess..."
She picked up her phone and asked her AI: "What's the origin of the name Tshilela?"
"Tshilela is a name from the Badilaean language of the Badila ethnic group, originating in the Shaba province of Zaire," the AI answered. "It means 'to be abundant' or 'to overflow,' often in the context of divine help. The first known bearer was a mystic woman believed to be divinely protected, whose enemies could never harm her."
"Wow..." Azusa whispered. Even I was stunned.
"So your father—or mother—might have been Badilite," she said.
"Or maybe they just liked the culture and named me accordingly."
"Have you done a DNA test?"
"No. I told you, I'm not interested."
She asked her AI again: "Tell me about the ancient Badila Kingdom."
"The Badila Kingdom, known for its advanced trade networks and cultural synthesis, thrived during the precolonial era in what is now known as Zaire, Central Africa. The Swahili-Arab paternal influence brought Islamic traditions, while the Bantu maternal side contributed rich oral traditions and agricultural knowledge."
"How did it fall? What happened after?" she asked.
"The Kingdom fell due to Belgian colonization," the AI explained. "After Zaire declared independence, the last king of the Badilites, King Benda, seized control of the rich mineral resources buried beneath the land where the Badila Kingdom once stood, enriching himself and his close kinsmen.
He dispatched these trusted relatives to establish families across East, West, and South Africa, aiming to gain a foothold in the mineral wealth of those regions as well. One of his descendants later migrated to North Africa, initiating Badilite expansion there by establishing the Badila name and engaging in profitable trade.
King Benda's daughter, Princess Akela, along with her nieces, ventured to East Asia, where they intermarried with the local populations. This union gave rise to the Nami Families—also known as the House of Nami—a cadet branch of the Royal House of Badila. One of Princess Akela's descendants even married into the Imperial House of Japan, further extending the Badilite identity and heritage into East Asia.
Today, the Badilites are found across the globe, with a strong presence in Africa—especially in Zaire. However, the elite families now primarily reside in Europe, while the Namites are mostly based in East Asia, particularly in Japan, Korea, and China, where they, like their African counterparts, engage in lucrative trade."
"Wow!" Azusa gasped. "That means the Japanese royal family might have maternal Black African roots! That makes them... kind of like you, Chisa-chan!"
"But they don't look biracial..."
"It probably happened generations ago."
"Then does it really matter anymore?"
"Maybe not. But knowing our roots helps us understand who we are. I bet that's why Princess Kaguya liked the selfies I took with you—she saw something familiar in you."
"Who knows..."
Before I met Azusa, I truly believed I was unwanted—that I was abandoned because I wasn't worth keeping.
But now... knowing the meanings behind my names, Chisa and Tshilela, I'm beginning to wonder...
Maybe my parents didn't abandon me because they didn't love me.
Maybe... they did it because they had no choice.