my son's mother, fujishita rika.

A quiet residential area. There is a flat house building. It does not look like a rich house, but it is a very common house that looks like drawings of the 100 million-tier medium-size school. A woman making breakfast and laying out breakfast at a dining table. Fujishita no Narihana, a great nanny of grief. He is sighing with an expression that does not appear to him. Pears on the edge, breakfast in your hand. You'd like to prepare breakfast. Then I sighed, with a troubled face, when the work was not proceeding in one direction. Why? Why sigh. Why breakfast is not ready. Son Minor behind her. He is "sneezing" from behind.