---
And I took it.
The plastic folder was thin.
High quality.
There was a brand logo in the bottom right corner.
---
I figured this kid didn’t co from an ordinary family.
I opened it.
---
Official paper.
Stiff.
Thick.
Bearing a governnt seal at the top.
---
I recognized the format imdiately.
A birth certificate.
Her na was written clearly.
Yuna.
Date of birth: nine years ago.
Place of birth: Tokyo.
---
Mother’s na.
I hadn’t looked at that part yet.
My eyes stopped at the father’s column.
---
Nishida Itsuki.
The exact sa kanji.
Not a single stroke out of place.
---
I reread it slowly.
Nishida.
Itsuki.
I looked up.
---
She was sitting cross-legged now.
Hands resting on her knees.
Back completely straight.
An innocent expression that was far too composed.
---
"It’s official," she said.
I ignored her.
A few seconds later.
---
"There are a lot of similar nas out there."
"There are."
"And a lot of Nishidas."
"Yes, I know."
"And a lot of Itsukis."
"...True... and?"
"So it’s highly likely this isn’t ."
She tilted her head slightly.
Leaning forward.
---
"But the address is correct."
I hadn’t turned to the back page.
I lowered my gaze again.
The official seal.
The signature...
---
My signature?
Since when was that here?
---
I looked closer.
Every stroke.
It all looked authentic.
---
Not a cheap imitation.
Nor a crude forgery.
If this was a fake, the person who made it wasn’t an amateur.
---
I let out a soft exhale.
"You know, forging docunts is a criminal offense."
"I didn’t forge it."
"Do you know what ’criminal offense’ ans?"
"I know."
I stared at her.
---
She wasn’t the least bit anxious.
Nine-year-olds usually aren’t this calm when they’re lying.
I closed the folder slowly.
---
"If you’ve got the wrong person, what are you going to do?"
She gave a small shrug.
"Then that ans Papa is a bad person."
I stared at her for a few seconds.
---
"That is terrible logic."
She fell silent.
---
I opened the folder again.
The mother’s na was finally visible near the top.
Kanzaki Sayaka.
---
My hands stopped for a fraction of a second.
I hadn’t reacted.
Not yet.
That na wasn’t common.
Too specific.
Too well-known.
---
I closed the folder again before my thoughts could wander too far.
"Alright," I said quietly.
"Let’s assu this is real."
"It is real."
"Let’s assu," I repeated.
She didn’t argue this ti.
---
I placed the docunt on the table between us.
---
"If this is true," I said,
"when exactly did I do sothing this major?"
She smiled slightly.
"That’s sothing Papa should rember."
I had no doubts.
I didn’t rember ever doing it.
Not even once in my entire life.
I never had.
---
I stared at her.
She stared back without blinking.
The room fell silent again.
I tapped the paper lightly with my fingertip.
For quite a while.
---
"Do you have any other proof?"
She imdiately reached for her backpack again.
Without rushing.
Without panicking.
As if she had been waiting for that very question.
---
Her hand disappeared into the bag.
Then she pulled out a small, folded piece of paper.
She didn’t hand it over right away.
Just holding it in the air for a mont.
---
"This too," she said.
I stared at the paper.
"Papa’s address."
She smiled.
---
I hadn’t taken the paper yet.
My hand paused mid-air.
If the address was right, this wasn’t a coincidence.
If the address was right—
---
I finally took the paper.
And opened it.
---
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