That evening, back at home, Hiro sits alone in his room, staring at the letter. He traces his fingers over his name written in Sakura's familiar handwriting, hesitating before finally opening it. He begins to read, his eyes moving over each word slowly, as if savoring them.
As he finishes, he leans back against his chair, clutching the letter to his chest. His mother, Mrs. Tanaka, quietly enters the room, her expression soft with concern.
Mrs. Tanaka: "Hiro? Everything alright?"
Hiro wipes at his eyes hastily, glancing up at her. He manages a weak smile, though his eyes are red-rimmed.
Hiro: "It's Sakura. She's... she's leaving."
Mrs. Tanaka: (walking over and placing a hand on his shoulder) "Oh, honey. I'm sorry."
Hiro: (nodding, his voice breaking slightly) "She wrote me a letter, Mom. She... she told me she loves me."
Mrs. Tanaka's eyes widen in surprise, but she says nothing, waiting for him to continue.
Hiro: "It's strange, knowing now. After all these years..."
Mrs. Tanaka: (squeezing his shoulder gently) "Sometimes, love has its own timing, doesn't it? But you know, love like that... it doesn't fade. Even if she's far away, you'll always have this bond."
Hiro closes his eyes, his mother's words offering a bittersweet comfort. He knows she's right, but the ache of missing Sakura feels too raw to let go.
Hiro: "I just... I don't know what to do without her."
Mrs. Tanaka: "Then don't let go of what she means to you. Keep her memory close. Sometimes, that's all we can do."
Hiro nods, his mother's words settling into his heart. He gazes at the blank canvas across the room, a spark of inspiration flickering in his mind. Sakura wanted him to keep painting, to keep dreaming—and maybe, just maybe, he can honor her by doing just that.