In Himari's home—the mother of the boy who regularly played with Haruki, Fuji—the atmosphere was warm and filled with the rich aroma of food.
Just a few days earlier, she had given Haruki a small slip of paper with her phone number written on it, gently urging him not to hesitate to call her if anything happened at home, or if he ever felt hungry and had nothing to eat.
Himari stood near the stove, softly humming as she prepared curry, its scent drifting through the house like a comforting embrace.
Suddenly, her humming was interrupted by the sharp ring of her phone.
She reached over to the kitchen counter and picked it up.
Glancing at the screen, she saw a number she didn't recognize.
Her brows furrowed in mild confusion, but curiosity led her to press the green button.
She brought the phone to her ear, her voice gentle and motherly as she continued cooking with her other hand.
"Hello?"
The silence on the other end of the line was deafening—but it didn't last long.
Soon, a quiet, stifled sob broke through.
Himari raised an eyebrow in concern. She didn't recognize the caller, but from the sound of the sob, she could tell it was a child.
She spoke again, gently, hoping for a response.
"Hello? Who's speaking?"
Finally, a shaky, broken voice came through the line.
"I… i-it's H-Haruki…"
Himari's expression softened the moment she recognized the little boy.
A faint smile formed on her lips, and her eyes drifted back toward the food she had been cooking, though her voice carried a subtle undertone of worry as she replied.
"Oh, hello, sweetheart… Why are you crying? Did something happen between you and Mr. Nagisa?"
Her question had been instinctive-just as much as she feared the answer.
The child began to cry, his breath hitching in shallow, broken sobs.
He nodded, even though she couldn't see him, then forced himself to speak through trembling words.
"M-My… d-dad…"
Himari tilted her head, unanswered questions swirled through her mind—questions that only this child could answer.
She set down the wooden spoon she had been using and turned off the stove beneath the pot, focusing her full attention on the call.
Her voice grew a bit firmer, more serious, though she tried to keep it soft and gentle, careful not to add to the boy's distress.
"Your father? What about him? What happened?"
"H-he's not moving."
Himari let out a short laugh, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere that had suddenly settled over them. She spoke in a playful tone, hoping to calm him.
"Hey… don't worry, sweetheart. He's probably just sleeping."
But the child inhaled sharply, tears still streaming down his cheeks.
He sat curled in the corner of a dark room, hugging himself tightly, the phone pressed to his ear.
Summoning every bit of strength he had left, he forced out the next words-words that shattered the illusion of calm.
"He's… hanging from the ceiling."
Himari gasped, a wave of shock slamming into her like a punch to the gut. It felt as if her heart had dropped into her stomach-then shot right back up to her throat.
Panic overtook her. She understood instantly what Haruki meant.
She spoke quickly, her voice trembling with urgency and fear.
"Don't move, Haruki. I'm calling the police-I'll be there in just a few minutes!"
Haruki gently set the phone down beside him, then turned his eyes upward, fearfully revealing the scene that had been haunting him since the moment he walked in.
Nagisa's body hung from the ceiling, a thick rope wrapped tightly around his neck. His eyes were open-but empty.
His face had turned a deep purple from the lack of oxygen.
The lifeless corpse of a father… dangling in front of a child who hadn't yet reached the age of five.
The feeling was too vast, too crushing, for any child to endure.
Those open eyes, though vacant, seemed to pierce straight through his chest-as if they could still see him.
As if he were being watched… without truly being seen.
Haruki's lips trembled, and tears streamed down his cheeks.
He drew in a shaky breath, then spoke to the body, as if his father were still there… still listening.
"Stop looking at me like that…"
He hugged his knees tightly to his chest, burying his face against them, whispering to no one but himself.
"I know… I know this is all my fault."
He pulled his legs closer to his body, as guilt and regret gnawed at his mind, blaming himself for the death of both his parents-as if he had committed some unknown sin.
What crime had this small child committed to carry such a heavy burden on his shoulders?
Such darkness in a heart so young?
Is our mere existence enough to ruin the lives of those around us?
Or is life simply cruel by nature, testing us with hardship to see how long we can endure?
And when we fail to carry the weight of the sorrow clouding our hearts, do we throw ourselves off the nearest cliff… just to say we couldn't take it anymore?
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