Why Do You Want to Adopt Me?
When I woke, snow had been falling outside the window — winter. But an intense summer that warmed the glass had come and gone, and before I knew it the green leaves beyond the pane were tipping, little by little, into red.
There was nothing in the hospital room that would let me check the date, so I couldn't say exactly how much time had passed. From the changing view outside and the things people said when they visited, though, I could tell that roughly half a year had slipped by.
Lately even the doctor who used to come no longer really examined me. She would simply sit by the bed, tell me all sorts of stories, and leave again.
She often talked about small squabbles with the other doctors, or about her family and her children. My attending physician said she was currently her husband's third wife.
When she stroked my hair and told me she'd have nothing left to wish for if she had a son like me, all I could do was smile awkwardly.
With the gender ratio as skewed as it was, monogamy was vanishingly rare — but that was still a fact I hadn't gotten used to, measured against what I'd known in the other world. Of course the other world had its differences by race, but humans there had been monogamous as a rule.
Come to think of it, my parents had been monogamous too.
Squeeze…
My grip on the doll I was holding tightened a little. It wasn't so much the thought of if Mom had been more as the sudden awareness of how precious a child I must have been to Mom and Dad.
The doctor watched me like that, smiled faintly, told me to wait just a little longer, and stepped out of the room.
Wait for what…?
The following week brought my counseling session — every Wednesday, same as always.
After yet another meeting with a counselor who still didn't seem to believe me no matter how many times I said I'd been a hero in another world, I had sworn to myself that today I would make her believe it. Then she brought up something I never saw coming.
"…Adoption selection…?"
"Yes. It might feel sudden, but… you'll need a guardian… I'm sorry I couldn't tell you sooner."
I shook my head a little at her apology to say it was fine, then sank into thought.
It wasn't that I'd never expected to be adopted. I couldn't even leave the hospital room on my own; I wasn't going to live in a ward until I was old enough. I knew I'd need a legal guardian, and that adoption was how that would happen — but…
"Selection…?"
I simply didn't understand what "adoption selection" was supposed to mean, as opposed to just being adopted.
Even at my puzzled question, the counselor scratched her cheek with an embarrassed smile. It was a habit of hers whenever something was hard to explain. Seeing that, I gave a small nod as if to say I understood for now.
Everything I knew about adoption came from the other world. There, churches or orphanages looked after abandoned children until nobles, or commoner couples who couldn't have a child of their own, came, paid a fee, and took one home. That was the adoption I knew…
Selection… Don't tell me I have to compete to be chosen out of a crowd of kids?
If that was it, I had no confidence at all. I was different from ordinary children; I was bound to be unpopular.
When my face fell a little, the counselor gently stroked my hair. At first she'd hesitated even to do that; lately she'd started offering these small touches more freely. Twenty years in the other world or not, I felt it again — here I was just a small child, soothed by something as simple as a hand on my head.
When I was alone in the room, I would periodically try to find Mana in the air, or mutter short incantations in the hope of casting a spell.
Mana, which had been a given in the other world, simply did not exist in my original one. Without it, of course, no matter what I chanted, nothing answered — and magic never came.
After hearing about the adoption selection, I tried a little harder. Men with superpowers weren't unheard of, I'd been told. If I used magic, people here would take it for a superpower, and a boy with superpowers might be a little more appealing to adopt. That was my small, greedy hope.
But hope or not, the emptiness sitting in my chest and the nothingness at my fingertips couldn't even stir a breeze.
Knock. Knock.
Someone rapped on the door while I was practicing. Today was Monday; no one was scheduled to visit.
When I called, "Who is it~?", the counselor's voice answered from outside. I told her to come in, and she entered looking a little apologetic.
She said the preparations for the adoption selection were suddenly finished.
At that, I flinched and trembled slightly. She stroked my hair and told me that if I was nervous, I could bring my doll. I nodded, hugged the teddy bear I treasured tight against my chest, took her hand, and followed her slowly.
Holding her hand, I arrived at the familiar counseling room. Unlike usual, though, women in vests marked Police stood at every corner, sunglasses on.
I looked around, tense, clutching the doll harder. The counselor lifted me gently onto a chair and soothed me, saying the officers were there to protect me. I loosened my grip a little and nodded.
I still didn't know how an adoption selection worked that it needed police, but I hoped it would simply end with me being adopted without incident.
If someone asked what I'd learned in the other world that still worked after I came back, it would be the way of reading people's eyes that the Saintess taught me. She said it was a kind of psychology — by looking into someone's eyes, you could guess what was in their heart.
Neither the Saintess nor I had held ordinary positions, so figuring out what the people who approached us really wanted had been vital. That skill worked just as well in my original world.
My attending physician showed pity, apology, and maternal love. The counselor showed a sense of responsibility and a familial affection like looking after a younger sibling.
And the couple sitting in front of me now looked at me with thick, open greed.
Whether that greed was for me as a person, or for something else they stood to gain by taking me, I couldn't say. One thing was clear enough: this wasn't them choosing me. It was a selection where I chose them.
Before that couple, more than ten people had already come saying they wanted to adopt me. All of them turned the same greedy looks on me as they greeted the boy sitting beside the counselor.
Some reacted with wild exaggeration to every word and gesture, fishing for my favor. Some suddenly tried to hand me snacks. The moment anyone reached out with food or to touch me, the officers posted around the room would rush in, restrain them, and throw them out — and even then I had to keep a faint smile on my face.
No matter how greedily they looked at me, no matter that they'd come for something other than me, the truth cut both ways. They needed me; I needed them too.
So every time someone left and the counselor asked, "What did you think?", I only repeated that they seemed like good people.
Before I knew it, more than twenty had come and gone. The counselor asked if I wanted to rest; I shook my head and said we could keep going.
I wasn't fine. Those nakedly greedy stares felt like they were crawling stickily over my skin, and the thick, cloying sweetness of their praise made me sick. Even so, wanting to finish the selection quickly outweighed wanting to stop.
According to the counselor, from today through Friday I would be meeting nearly thirty people a day.
When the door opened again, I reflexively hugged the doll and dropped my head — an attempt to hide the expression of disgust that would come with another sticky gaze — but—
"Oh? Team Leader, you applied too?"
"Yes. Honestly, I didn't think I'd make it."
What I felt wasn't sticky greed. It was a warm, gentle gaze. At the easy way the counselor spoke to whoever had come in, I slowly lifted my head and looked at the owner of that look.
I knew her. She was the woman who had installed the surveillance cameras in my room about a week after I came to.
But more than recognizing her, what held me was the warmth in the way she looked at me. That warmth was somehow wiping away, little by little, the unpleasant stickiness that had been clinging to my body until now.
Even while she talked with the counselor, she glanced over at me now and then and offered small smiles. The Saintess who had cared for me in the other world rose in my mind, and tears threatened at the corners of my eyes.
My mouth opened and closed a few times on its own, but my throat was tight and nothing came out. I slowly tugged at the counselor's sleeve.
She and the woman stopped talking and waited for me to speak.
"Um…! Um…"
The words stuck; maybe my throat was still locked. But I forced them out slowly. I wanted to ask the question I hadn't been able to put to anyone else I'd met.
"Why do you… want to adopt me?"
My voice trembled against my will — and the woman's eyes began to tremble the same way.