The World Was Going to End on New Year's Day

They were disciplined, and Miu was threatened with being sent away to Asahikawa, but in the end, they were still together. No matter how harsh the punishments and constraints were that they levied against Miu, she didn’t mind because the bullying stopped. Through everything, the most important message she learned was not about turning the other cheek, knowing restraint, or being the bigger person.

The lesson she learned was that if someone refused to leave them alone, if she hurt them enough, and broke everything they had, they would finally stop. And stop they did. Taki became a shell of himself. Humiliated. Damaged. A ripped tongue that turned into a speech impediment of his own. Now the bullying turned on him. A flash of cruel vindication occasionally danced in Miu’s mind in the months that followed when she saw new insults and antagonism hurled at the once proud boy.

From then on, no one bothered her or Yuki. Their days in the orphanage passed without any excess strain beyond the expected hardship of an underfunded group home forty kilometers outside of Sapporo. Individualized care was rare. An infestation of bedbugs almost drove them insane that summer. It was always colder than Miu wanted. Halls were lined with chipped paint. The water smelled of treatment chemicals. Food was never nourishing enough. Beds were uncomfortable. Adults and sponsors did what they could, but Miu and Yuki were forever alone.

But at least they were alone together.

One night, late in the summer, the house was allowed a trip into the city for the fireworks celebration. As the vans drove the masses of children through the lantern-lit streets, Yuki’s hand softly reached out for Miu’s. Feeling his fingers graze against her tiny hand gave her a rush of emotion she did not yet fully understand. But she welcomed the feeling of lightness that rushed through her chest and lingered through the night.

Explosions of color and light consumed the world and canvassed the sky. The two of them snuck away from the rest of the group and found a secluded hill to watch the wonder alone.

Alone together. Through it all, his hand stayed with hers. Neither of them spoke, nor even knew what to say. All they knew was that feeling was the only brightness and tenderness in their world.

When they returned to the orphanage, Yuki had one more surprise for Miu. He unzipped his backpack and removed the restored body of a familiar friend. Miu’s voice broke as she looked down at Hana, who was repaired with new fabric and bracing stitched over her torn arms.

“Hana… my baby…” Miu said through tears.

“I stole a needle and stitch thread from the nurses’ quarters. That’s actual surgical-grade thread, so it should hold. And that’s fabric from one of my shirts. I know it’s a little different than what her body was like, but it’s still her -”

His words were cut short when Miu burst forward and wrapped her arms around his shoulders and neck. No matter how brutal or intense she was with everyone else, she was always soft with him. Soft, damp tears streaked from her cheek and onto his as they held one another in that stale hallway.

Eventually, the years passed, and he did catch up to her in height. By the time he was fourteen and she was sixteen, their eyes were even with one another. Defiance had driven Miu to let her hair grow fully down her back, so that she walked enveloped by a bouncing halo of pink. Yuki’s voice changed with the expected breaks and awkward cracks, but in time it settled into a pleasant tenor. Sprouts of rogue facial hair began to appear on his chin and jaw. By the time December arrived, both of them were subtly noticing that the other had become beautiful in their eyes.

It was with that distraction in their minds that the two of them completed their Saturday chores and made their way to the gathering room for a planned meeting between the staff and all of the children. None of them knew what the meeting was about; they just knew they had been instructed to arrive before lunch.

While Yuki and Miu made their way to open chairs, Miu noticed a handful of outside adults in professional clothing were in attendance. Their stale wardrobe and neutral demeanor told her they were from the oversight departments of the government. The empty look in their eyes did not give her comfort.

Not long after they had sat down, their lead caretaker stepped forward. Miu could not help but notice that her eyes were also empty. A growing dread led her fingers to reach for Yuki’s hand.

“Children. Children, eyes up here and ears to me, please,” the elder lady asked.

All the room fell silent.

“Children, we have some important news we must tell you. We..”

She stopped and calmed her voice. She knew something. Now the dread was flowing through Miu’s entire body. Even Yuki sensed something was off. His nervous glance at Miu was met with similar concern.

“We have been disbanded, children. This orphanage is being shuttered. There is no more funding…” the caretaker finally stated.

There was a collective gasp from the children. Some immediately cried. Some groaned at the prospect of another relocation and another new school.

For Miu and Yuki, it brought a new kind of terror. Neither of them dared to speak it into existence, but the horror rushing through their minds was palpably real. They might be separated.

The odds of them landing at the same orphanage were nearly zero. Sitting on those cheap plastic chairs under the eyes of silent strangers, the two children felt their realities imploding. Through everything, every hardship, loss, heartbreak, disappointment, broken bone, busted lip, and night spent crying for comfort, the one thing that they had ever been able to hold onto was one another. Years of nightmares had been moderately survivable because they had them.

Burning tears cut through Yuki’s eyes as he imagined a world without Miu beside him every day. Silent cataclysms shook Miu’s stomach into spasms as she imagined a single day without seeing his face.

“No…” she cried to herself.

“No, no, no…”

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

"Miu?..." Yuki whimpered.

Their fingers dug into one another for comfort. It felt like releasing the other’s touch might untether them from the very world and hurl them into loneliness forevermore. Then the caretaker spoke again and confirmed their worst fears.

“Most of the boys will be sent to a companion organization’s home in Yubari...”

Miu gasped out in sorrow. This was it. Boys to one city. Girls to another.

“And the girls will be sent to a new facility in Shibetsu.”

Even further north. Even colder. Far from him. Farther and farther away from Kyushu’s warmth that she had so desperately wanted to see with him. Her thoughts began to spiral.

How would they stay in touch? How often would they see one another? Could they call each other?! Could she travel to see him?! Every weekend?! How would she afford that?! Why was this happening?! IT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE THIS!!

Sobs broke through her resolve, and all Miu could do was slump forward as she wept.

“Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, no…” she cried.

Yuki’s hand squeezed hers as he sniffed to clear the tears from his face, but no matter how he tried, they continued to fall. The end was here. Everything was going to change.

“Our home will remain open through the end of the year. When January arrives, you will be relocated. We are grateful to have taken care of you for as long as we were able,” the caretaker said with a bow.

January. Their world would break in January. As tears and complaints echoed through the room from dozens of children, all Yuki could think of was how he had less than three weeks left with Miu by his side. Christmas was coming. That would be one of their last nights together. Outside, snow began to fall. This time, even Yuki felt a shiver of cold.