POV: You're a Foreigner Who Got a Japanese Girl Pregnant
You are sitting in a plastic chair the color of old mustard, holding a number that says B-214, in a room that has never once been in a hurry.
The fluorescent lights at the Osaka Regional Immigration Bureau hum at a frequency just below the threshold of pain. Around you, the waiting room is a quiet assembly of people who have all learned the same lesson at different speeds: the system does not care how much you need this.