The playground had not changed.
The paint on the rusted slide was peeling in the same places, like scabs that refused to heal. The swings creaked with every sway of the evening breeze, a tired sound that reminded Hiroshi of long summers and scraped knees. Even the cracked concrete beneath his feet felt familiar—comfortingly so.
He stood at the edge of it all, fingers clenched tightly around the small velvet box in his pocket.
This is stupid, he thought. I'm stupid.
But his heart refused to listen.
"Aiko will come," he muttered under his breath, as if saying her name aloud might summon her.
"She said she would."
The sun was sinking, staining the sky in soft hues of orange and violet. Twilight—neither day nor night. Hiroshi felt like he belonged to that in-between space.
They had grown up here. This playground had been their kingdom once. Pirates, astronauts, heroes. Back then, holding hands meant nothing more than crossing the monkey bars together.
Now, it meant everything.
Footsteps approached.
Hiroshi's spine stiffened.
"Aiko…"
She stood a few steps away, school bag slung over one shoulder, long hair catching the dying light. She looked just like she always did—except somehow farther away. Older. Like someone already walking a path he could no longer follow.
"You wanted to see me?" Aiko asked, tilting her head slightly. Her voice was gentle, cautious.
"Y-Yeah." He swallowed. "Thanks for coming."
There was an awkward silence. The kind that pressed down on the chest, heavy and suffocating.
Aiko glanced around the playground. "It's been a while since I came here."
"Me too," Hiroshi said quickly. "I thought… maybe it'd be nostalgic."
She smiled faintly. "It is."
That smile was enough to make his resolve crumble.
If I don't say it now, I never will.
Hiroshi took a step forward, heart hammering so loudly he was sure she could hear it.
"Aiko," he said, forcing his voice steady.
"There's something I need to tell you."
She stiffened. She could sense what was imminent from his shaky tone.
That alone almost stopped him. But his mind had already been made by then. He continued.
"We've known each other since we were kids. You've always been there for me. When my dad left… when I couldn't talk to anyone… you were the only one who stayed." His hands trembled. "I don't know when it happened. Maybe it's always been this way."
He pulled the box from his pocket.
Aiko's eyes widened slightly.
"I love you," Hiroshi said. "I always have."
For a moment, the world held its breath. That was the longest pause of his life.
The wind stopped. The swings fell silent. It was almost as if time itself had stopped.
Then Aiko exhaled.
"Hiroshi…" She looked down, fingers tightening around her bag strap. "I'm sorry."
Those two words shattered everything.
"I—" She hesitated. "You're important to me. You always will be. But not like that."
The velvet box almost slipped from his fingers.
"I don't see you that way," she continued softly. "I never have."
This time his fingers truly lost their grip, the velvety box hit the ground with a dull thud.
His ears rang.
"Oh," Hiroshi said. "I… see."
He wanted to laugh. Or scream. Or disappear.
He thought he was prepared for the worst. He thought he was ready to face the truth. That finally letting his long unspoken feelings out, would at least give him some closure. But alas, no matter how mentally prepared you might have been hearing those words sting. A lot. Hiroshi almost felt like he was being torn apart from the inside.
"I should've told you sooner," Aiko said. "I didn't want to hurt you."
"It's okay," he lied immediately. "Really. I get it."
He bent down, picked up the box, and shoved it back into his pocket like it was something shameful.
"I'm glad you told me," he added. "Thanks for being honest."
She nodded, relief flickering across her face. "I hope we can still—"
"Yeah," he interrupted. "Of course."
Another lie.
"I should get going," Aiko said after a pause. "It's getting late."
"Right."
She took a step back, then another. "Take care, Hiroshi."
"You too."
She turned and walked away.
Hiroshi stood there long after her footsteps faded.
The sky darkened.
Something inside him collapsed silently. His world came crumbling down.
He began walking home, hands shoved deep into his pockets, head lowered. Each step felt heavier than the last.
You knew this was coming, he told himself. Why does it hurt so much?
Breaking his internal conflict was a scream that tore through the air.
"Aiko!"
His body moved before his mind could catch up.
He spun around and ran back toward the playground, heart slamming violently against his ribs. The shadows seemed thicker now, stretching unnaturally across the ground.
"Aiko!" he shouted again.
It was what he dreaded. He saw them.
Figures clustering near the swings. Too close. Too many.
Aiko was there—struggling, crying out, her voice raw with terror.
Hiroshi didn't think. He probably didn't know what he was doing.
He charged.
"Get away from her!" he roared.
He swung his arms aimlessly, it connected with one of the guys. But before he could even process what happened next, a fist met his face.
The world exploded in white.
He fell, pain screaming through his skull, but he forced himself up again. Someone kicked him in the ribs. Another blow struck his stomach. He tasted blood.
"Stop!" he yelled, swinging wildly. His punch connected with nothing but air.
Laughter.
"Idiot," someone sneered.
He fell again.
This time, he couldn't get up.
Boots slammed into his side. His vision blurred. He heard Aiko crying, screaming his name, and that hurt the most. More than anything else. More than any of brutal blows to his body.
Move, he begged his body. Please move.
It didn't.
Eventually, the footsteps retreated. Voices faded into the night.
Silence returned.
Hiroshi lay on the cold ground, gasping for breath, staring at the darkened sky. Tears streamed down his face—not from pain, but from something deeper.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry… Aiko…"
The world beside him darkened.