Epilogue - Called To You

I could hear it immediately from the tone of his voice. The man who answered did not trust me.

He did not give his name. I did not give mine at first either. We circled each other with questions that sounded harmless but were not.

‘How did you get this number?’

‘Who told you about this? What did they even say?’

‘Why are you asking about a child who doesn’t exist on paper?’

I answered carefully and truthfully.

A pastor. Community work. A boy whose sister had vanished. Years of searching. Helped other children come home. Check my records. No cameras. No donors. No agenda.

There was a long pause on the line. I could hear breathing, pages turning, some panicked whispering. Finally, he said, ‘You sound like someone who tried your hardest to find this child.’

‘I am,’ I replied. ‘It’s my calling.’

That earned another silence. When he spoke again, his tone had shifted. He was still guarded, but no longer closed.

‘We don’t accept monetary compensation,’ he said.

‘I wouldn’t offer it,’ I answered. ‘Children aren’t transactions.’

A sound that might have been approval came from the other line.

‘There is a condition,’ he continued. ‘For family reunification, when biological parents are deceased, imprisoned, unfit, or unable to provide care.’

I waited.

‘We require proof of commitment,’ he said. ‘Not sentiment. Not intention. Action.’

He explained it slowly and precisely.

Their organization functioned under layered protection agreements. Legal gray zones. Emergency statutes. They rescued children no one officially acknowledged. Children erased by paperwork, sold through systems underneath the one on the surface.

When a relative surfaced, they did not hand the child over. They observed and tested, by required service. Not payment, but labor.

‘Anyone can claim blood,’ the man said. ‘We look for people willing to be reshaped by responsibility.’

The requirement was simple and brutal.

If a loved one wished to take a child home, they would work with the organization. Full-time. On-site. No salary beyond basic living. No guarantees of placement at the end. Six months minimum of logistical work. Transport coordination. Intake documentation. Court liaisons. Night shifts. Crisis calls.

‘People who are only motivated by guilt don’t last,’ he said. ‘People who want credit quit. People who need the child to heal themselves burn out.’

‘And the ones who stay?’ I asked.

‘They just work.’

I thought of Kanta and his disabled mother. Her fragile body was already bent by years of survival. Kanta himself was still a child. He was sharp and brave but was far too young to shoulder what would come next.

There was no question who it would have to be.

Me.

The man asked for documentation. Background checks. Letters. References. My history. My work. He already knew more than he let on.

At the end of the call, he warned me, ‘If you do this, you will not be near your old life.’

‘I will endure.’ I replied.

‘You won’t choose your location,’ he continued. ‘You will go where the work is. Remote. Rural. Invisible. You may not be able to leave easily.’

I pictured the village I loved. The hall with folding chairs. The children singing off-key. Kanta’s sharp grin. His mother’s quiet gratitude.

And, unbidden, Aika.

Her face as she had learned to breathe again. Her music everywhere now. Her life full and bright and far beyond me.

Maybe distance was not punishment. Maybe it was mercy.

A life of service far away. Anonymous and auiet. Like a monk without a monastery. A place where longing could finally be put down.

‘I understand,’ I said.

The man exhaled. ‘I will contact you for the vetting process.’

I did not move for a long time after the line went dead.

I felt no triumph. No dread. Only a strange acceptance.

Perhaps this was what it meant to move on… Not into happiness. But into usefulness. Get Kanta reunited with his sister.

*****

The screening process was exhaustive. Identity checks. Background verification. Questions that circled closer and closer to who I was now rather than who I had been.

Marital status. Living situation. Why I wanted to be involved. Whether I was prepared to walk away if necessary.

The questions grew more personal. I didn’t even raise a concern against it. Maybe that is what is needed to prove that I am a good person. Questions on why I never had a girlfriend. To assess if I am a violent person perhaps?

I answered everything truthfully until they gave the location. They said a family member by blood should be there to identify the child and also for DNA testing, if necessary.

*****

When permission was finally granted and all papers sorted, the man on the phone made it clear that it was not a reunion between Kanta and his little sister yet. Only a viewing for confirmation.

‘If he recognizes her,’ he said, ‘then good, we proceed. If not, we do not force continuity.’

So off we went.

Kanta sat rigid in the passenger seat. He had not spoken much since morning. Hope does that to people. It makes them quiet, as if words might jinx it. His mother couldn’t join us on the day selected by the organisers.

The address was on a mountainside part of Nagano. Closer than I expected. My father had once worked among shelters tucked into the mountains of Matsumoto. It was feasible.

I knew halfway of the drive so I made a quick stop by so I could have some food, and a word with Kanta.

‘Kanta,’ I started. ‘I need you to hear something before we continue.’

He nodded without looking at me.

‘We don’t know what will happen. It could not even be her.’

‘I know.’ He said. ‘I still want to see anyways.’

‘I know,’ I said. ‘I do too.’

He turned suddenly and hugged me fiercely.

‘I am sorry for being rude the other day.’ he blurted. ‘Thank you for everything Caleb.’

‘You don’t have to—‘

‘I really wanted to help you,’ he said into my jacket.

I rested my hand on his head and patted his hair awkwardly.

‘You already helped me,’ I said quietly. ‘Long before this.’

He pulled back embarrassed and continued to wipe his face with his sleeve like nothing had happened.

You’ve grown into a good child, Kanta. Despite it all. He wasn’t my son but I felt an immense amount of joy seeing him bloom into the young man that he was becoming.

The rest of the drive felt unreal. The magnificent countryside stretched out for miles. Kanta, after having a good meal, talked the entire way and filled the silence with his excitement. I did not have it in me to tell him again to stop expecting before we were sure.

Part of the way, Kanta insisted we buy flowers for his little sister. We ended up with a bouquet of pink carnations and a bouquet of red roses.

‘For good measure.’ He said. ‘In case she didn’t like the other.’

I happily obliged. Anything that will cheer you up Kanta, in the case it is not your sister again.

The road curved once more until the gates appeared.

This wasn’t what I had imagined…

No barbed wire. No concrete walls. No sense of secrecy etched in fear. Instead, tall wrought gates opened into manicured gardens that spread wide like a public park. Stone paths lined the inside and outside of the gates.

‘It looks like…’ Kanta whispered.

‘A palace,’ I finished.

It wasn’t institutional or hidden in neglect as I had unfortunately initially anticipated. Instead, it was deliberate beauty. Someone wanted these children to grow surrounded by dignity.

We were allowed in through the enormous automatic iron gates with hanging ivies. We drove through the internal roundabout until we rolled to a slow stop inside the grounds. I turned the engine off, but neither of us moved.

The place was wrong, in the best possible way. I swallowed in awe. No wonder they made me go through all of those screening.

The closest building ahead looked nothing like a facility. It looked like a residence for someone with royal descent. No, more than that. It looked like someone had decided children deserved beauty without conditions.

‘This doesn’t look very in tune to “having to hide in the rural areas”,’ I murmured.

It’s like one of the castle houses you normally see around Scotland was uprooted and planted in the middle of a random Japanese mountainside. Gardens unfolded like something out of a dream. Tiny foreign trees were pruned with care. Small water fountains caught light.

I didn’t turn the engine off.

I don’t know why. Maybe some part of me thought that if the car stayed alive, I could still leave. Kanta didn’t move either. Absolutely gobsmacked, we just sat there, staring through the windshield.

‘This looks fake,’ Kanta whispered.

I could only nod. We were both thinking the same thing. We don’t belong here.

I was just a pastor who counted folding chairs before service. Kanta was a boy who’d learned too early how to patch up the wounds on his disabled mother. Everything in front of us was a luxury neither of us ever thought of ever coming close to.

Our disbelief was disturbed by a moved in the trees.

‘A cat!’ Kanta shouted as he opened the door.

‘Kanta—‘

Too late. He sprinted toward a tree where a very displeased cat clung halfway up the trunk. His tail puffed like it was blaming Kanta for being in the position.

‘I’ll get you down. Wait a second.’ he said as I stepped out the vehicle.

The cat chose violence. It launched itself sideways. Straight onto my head.

I barely had time to lock the car door before a fat orange cat with trimmed claws used me like scaffolding. He carefully avoided my face as he slid down my shoulder and settled squarely into my arms. He purred like this had been planned from the beginning.

‘Oh,’ I said stupidly. ‘Hello.’

The cat purred louder. Of course.

‘I ran first to help you!’ Kanta yelled. ‘You traitor!’

The using the word “traitor” to describe a fat orange cat sure brings back memories.

‘I appear to be… approachable,’ I muttered in amazement at how familiar the cat looked.

I crouched and set the cat down gently near the door. ‘No more trees for you. You’ve made your point.’

It headbutted my hand affectionately and walked off with its tail high.

It can’t be…

The door opened. A woman stepped outside holding a little girl’s hand. Everything inside me went still.  She looked like just a small girly Kanta! We finally found you!

The child was taller than I expected. Healthier, in fact. Her hair was neatly tied back. She hid behind the woman’s leg and peered out cautiously.

Kanta made a sound I’d never heard from him before. ‘AYA!’

‘That’s her,’ he whispered to me in tears. ‘That’s my sister.’

The girl looked at him with a furrowed brow. After a few second, her eyes widened.

‘Kanta…?’ she said with uncertainty.

Kanta sobbed openly, turned away and ran back towards the car. 

‘Aya-chan here is one of our rescues whose only identification comes from the letter and photo that her brother slipped in her pocket before being sold.’ The carer explained.

‘That’s awful.’

‘We didn’t hide these things from her. That is why she can recognize him somehow.’

I thought he wasn’t coming back anymore but Kanta came back with the bouquets.

‘Thank you,’ he announced through his tears. ‘For helping me all those years ago.’

‘It was my calling, Kanta.’ I managed to say without crying. ‘Thank the Lord. Not me.’

‘Thank you for never leaving me. And my mother.’ 

I didn’t have the words anymore. I couldn’t remain composed anymore had I spoken one more word. I could only offer Kanta a big hug.

‘We’re equal now.’ He smiled proudly as he passed me the red roses. ‘The rest is up to you. I have done the Lord’s bidding here.’

Before I could ask him what he meant, the door opened and more cats appeared. One climbed my back. Another tried my shoulder. I stood there motionless as I allowed myself became a free-for-all cat obstacle course.

‘I’m sorry,’ I told the staff member. ‘This happens more than you’d think. I was once, or twice, briefly viral for it.’

She laughed. ‘We’ve heard.’

The staff stepped aside and guided the children inward.

‘Don’t scare him away already, Bingo.’ A voice from the inside said.

A man followed them. I recognized his voice before I registered his face. The man from the phone. Her father whose health I have prayed hard for.

‘I…’ 

He met my eyes and nodded once. Gratitude passed between us without words. He went inside with the children.

And then there was only Aika and me.

She was beautiful. Not a single thing changed about her, other than how straight she stood and how confident she looked.

My knees locked. Tears of relief and joy flooded out of me without asking for permission. I couldn’t stop them even if I tried.

She walked toward me, took my hand and kissed it. The same way I had kissed hers years ago.

‘God really took His time bringing you back to me, Caleb,’ she said gently. ‘But He doesn’t rush good work.’

I tried to speak. Nothing came out.

She laughed softly. ‘It’s okay. I’ll talk.’

She held my hand between both of hers.

‘It’s been seven years since the worst part of my life,’ she said. ‘The first two, I hid. The third, the most beautiful one…was when I met you.’ She smiled.

And just like that, it felt like we both fell back into that familiar, comfortable feeling.

‘The fourth and fifth, I fought and won. Helped others win too. The sixth and seventh, I learned how to rest. I went to therapy and I dedicated my musical talents for the Lord. I also started, nurtured and protected this haven you are looking at now.’

She tilted her head. ‘Did you know it takes seven years for every cell in the body to replace itself?’

I shook my head faintly.

‘I wasn’t the same Aika anymore, down to the cellular level.’ She explained.

‘I’m brand new now,’ she continued. ‘I am not the same Aika that was bound by the past anymore.’

I managed to take a deep breath finally. I hadn’t realized I was so shocked that I held my breath.

‘I don’t flinch. I don’t shake at the thought of intimacy. I can share a hug between loved ones now.’

She stepped closer. ‘I’m whole now.’

She searched my face for assurance. Oh heavens she’s just a beautiful as yesterday. If not more.

‘I’m ready,’ she said. ‘If you are.’

By some divine intervention, my voice finally returned.

’Aika. I never stopped being,’ I said. 

‘Un… Your little pal over there told me.’ She giggled.

I managed to smile through the tears. Kanta…

‘He messaged me this week to let me know about your silent longing for me. All these years.’ She teased. ‘In his pursuit of bringing you happiness, he also found his sister. Which by the way, was my first rescue mission. I was very careful but I wasn’t a hundred percent sure yet of what I was doing then, hence photos of me holding a baby floated in the media.’

I could only laugh at myself. How silly of me to have believed everything that I read in the media. How was I any better than the people who persecuted Aika by believing online news without double checking.

‘I missed you,’ I said simply.

I couldn’t see her clearly anymore over the tears flooding from my eyes. She squeezed my hand and leaned her forehead against mine.

‘Me too, Caleb,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry it took so long.’

Now that you are here, it’s all worth it, Aika.

‘You were doing what you had to do,’ I replied. ‘So was I.’

‘I needed time,’ she said. ‘To meet you properly. I needed to become someone who you could hold without fear. I couldn’t come back still afraid of my own body, my own life. I couldn’t rush my healing. I wanted to be whole when I stood in front of you.’

Aika stepped into me, and for the first time in years, my body understood peace. Her arms wrapped around me without fear. Her breath was steady. Her heart was unguarded. She fit into my arms perfectly.

‘I used to tell myself,’ I said, ‘that if something took this long, it meant it wasn’t meant to be.’

She giggled and kissed my nose. I responded in kind by gripping her more tightly against me I could feel the steady pounding of her heart against my chest.

‘I thought that too,’ she admitted. ‘But maybe it was never about distance. Maybe God just refused to let us arrive unfinished.’

I leaned in and rested my forehead against hers.

‘I really thought we missed our chance,’ I admitted. ‘That we would never see each other again.’

Aika wrapped her arms more tightly around me. I scooped her up like I had always imagined. She felt light. Both physically and spiritually. And even if she weren’t, I would’ve carried her burdens for her and with her.

‘I didn’t stop loving you, Aika. No matter how much I told myself otherwise.’ I said. ‘I just learned how to wait without reaching out.’

I closed my eyes and breathed her in.

‘Maybe love isn’t proven by speed,’ she said. ‘Maybe it’s proven by patience.’

She pulled back just enough to look at me.

‘Then this wasn’t delay,’ I whispered. ‘It was preparation.’

The same moment I pulled her back closer and tighter, she tiptoed to reach me higher. Our lips found each other unceremoniously. We kissed tenderly and slowly. Without any handkerchief blocking this time. Aika’s lips felt certain and unafraid. Her body against mine felt like a promise we made years ago was finally kept.

When we parted, she stayed close enough that our breaths still touched.

‘I’m not running anymore,’ she said.

‘I’m not waiting anymore.’

She smiled.

‘Now it’s our turn, Caleb.’

‘I’m finally called to you.’