Part 1: Haruto's Solitude and Grief
Dr. Ken stepped back, already reaching for the door.
"That's enough for today," he said quietly. "For now… goodbye."
He left the room without another word.
The silence he left behind felt heavier than before.
Akari exhaled slowly. "Let's go check on Haruto."
Renjiro nodded, already moving.
They stepped into the corridor.
It was empty.
Akari's eyes scanned the benches along the wall. "He was here."
Renjiro frowned. "And the girl?"
"Misaki," Akari said. "She was here too."
But there was no sign of either of them.
They moved faster now, heading toward the hospital entrance. Outside, sunlight spilled across the open space. Just beyond the building, a small playground stood quiet—swings creaking faintly in the breeze, a slide catching the light.
Akari and Renjiro searched it carefully.
No Haruto.
No Misaki.
Akari stopped.
Her expression changed—not to panic, but to understanding.
"…I know where he went."
Renjiro turned to her. "You're sure?"
She nodded. "When he feels like this… he always goes there."
Without another word, they turned away from the hospital and began walking, their steps quickening—not chasing, but heading somewhere they already knew he would be.
Somewhere quiet.
Somewhere Haruto went when the world felt too heavy to face.
Haruto lay on the grass.
The ground slanted gently downward, soft earth and wild grass bending beneath his small frame. At the bottom of the slope, the shore stretched out—still water brushing against stone, reflecting the pale sky without a ripple.
He stared upward, unmoving.
Tears slid silently from the corners of his eyes, soaking into the grass, one after another. He didn't wipe them away. He didn't sob. His chest only rose and fell in shallow breaths, as if even crying took too much strength.
Footsteps stopped at the top of the slope.
Akari and Renjiro stood there, looking down at him.
They didn't call out.
They didn't move closer.
They just watched.
Haruto's lips parted, his voice barely louder than the wind moving through the grass.
"…Where are you, big brother?"
His fingers curled weakly into the earth.
"You promised you'd come back," he whispered. "It's been four years… where are you?"
The words broke into the open air and dissolved, unanswered.
Akari's throat tightened.
She didn't take her eyes off Haruto as she spoke, her voice low enough that only Renjiro could hear.
"…He really does miss him, doesn't he?"
Renjiro said nothing.
But his fists slowly clenched at his sides, and that was answer enough.
They stayed where they were—at the top of the slope—watching the boy who lay below them, crying not because he remembered everything…
…but because the ache of someone missing never truly leaves, even when the memories fade.
Akari's eyes softened, and without a word, she stepped carefully down the slope. The grass bent beneath her feet, brushing against Haruto's trembling form.
She sat beside him for a moment, then gently lowered herself onto the ground, lying down beside him. Her presence alone seemed to anchor him, though she said nothing. She didn't try to force a smile, or words—just stayed there, letting the silence hold them both.
Haruto blinked slowly, then let his head rest lightly on the grass. But even in that stillness, a familiar tightness began in his left eye. The ache pulsed faintly at first, a subtle warning that his body was nearing its limit. His fingers twitched, clutching the earth instinctively, though he tried to steady himself.
Renjiro finally moved closer, kneeling at the top of the slope. His voice was quiet but firm, steadying the weight in the air.
"Haruto," he said, "I know who you're calling for. Your big brother… he's not here, I know. But I need you to hear this."
Haruto's head lifted slightly, tear-streaked, eyes wary and pained.
Renjiro continued, his tone softening. "I can't bring him back. None of us can. But we are here. Akari… and I. We'll stay with you. We won't leave, even if he never comes."
Haruto's sobs grew louder, shaking his small body. "You… you said I should trust you both! You said you're here because I couldn't handle the truth!" His fists dug into the grass, teeth gritted. "Just… just tell me already! He's gone, isn't he?!"
Tears poured down his face relentlessly, streaking his cheeks, soaking the slanted grass. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the skin around his left eye began to redden. A thin line of blood glimmered where tears met the eye's edge.
Akari's hand hovered over him, unsure what to do. "Haruto… no, listen—"
Renjiro opened his mouth, voice calm but strained. "Haruto, we—"
But he was already pushing himself up, shaking his head violently. "Stop… stop lying to me!" he shouted, tears blinding him. "I can't… I can't—"
Before they could reach him, he bolted. Grass flattened beneath his rapid steps as he ran down the slope, leaving a trail of damp soil and glistening tears behind him.