The past always found a way back.
Koji stood alone in the school courtyard. Tiles cracked beneath his shoes, paint peeled from the walls — but the memories were sharp.
This was where it happened.
Where he'd once lain curled, bruised, forgotten.
The sun dipped low. Shadows stretched across the yard, slicing him into light and darkness.
Footsteps broke the stillness.
Koji turned, wary.
An old man emerged from the hallway — hunched, slower than before, but unmistakable.
The principal.
His eyes brightened at the sight of Koji.
"Koji? Is that really you?"
Koji hesitated. Startled.
"Yes, sir. I thought the school was closed today. Didn't mean to intrude."
The principal waved it away with a small chuckle.
"Don't worry. Barely anyone comes by anymore — less than a hundred kids these days. Quiet place now."
He glanced toward a window, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"Your mother used to help here sometimes — watching over the younger ones when she could. She really cared for them. I'm sorry… about your mom."
Silence hung between them.
Koji lowered his eyes.
"I should've been there… with her."
"It's not your fault," the principal said, gentle but firm.
Koji looked back at the school — at the ghosts lingering behind every classroom window.
"Yeah. That's why I'm moving back in — taking care of the house. Got a job nearby I can manage."
The principal nodded, slow and thoughtful.
"So… you're with Kenji again?"
Koji exhaled quietly.
"More like stuck with him. He's barely changed."
They stood there a moment, the faint brush of ocean waves in the distance.
The principal's voice softened.
"I still think about Hana. Poor girl… she didn't deserve what happened."
Koji froze.
Like a film reel catching fire, something inside him burned — silently, invisibly.
His body stayed still, but his breath caught.
"Koji?" the principal asked, noticing the shift.
"I… I'm sorry," Koji muttered. "I need to go."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked away — back into the shade.
Back into the silence.
The sun sank lower as Koji stepped out of the school gates. Golden light stretched shadows across the street, but he stood still, looking at the quiet building behind him.
The place where it happened.
Where he was beaten.
Where he stayed quiet.
Where no one helped.
Now, it was silent. Empty.
He turned away, walking through his old hometown. It was the same town he'd grown up in — but quieter, hollower. A place once filled with noise and laughter now felt like a memory on life support.
Shops shuttered early. Power lines hummed above cracked sidewalks. A few people passed, none making eye contact.
Then he saw it.
The park.
Rusty swings. Peeling paint on the jungle gym. Weeds pushing through cracked stone tiles. A place once full of children. Now, just silence.
**FLASHBACK — EIGHT YEARS AGO**
Young Koji sat at the edge of the sandbox, his face swollen and bruised. Blood clung to his lip.
Beside him knelt Hana, the quiet girl from school. She dabbed at his wounds with a cloth, touch careful, eyes focused.
"Why didn't you fight back?" she asked softly.
Koji didn't meet her gaze.
"Because… he's my friend."
Hana blinked. "He hurts you. Beats you. Takes your money."
Koji nodded slightly. "But he… hangs out with me. We go out together."
Hana stood, frustrated. "He's using you. You're ignoring what's happening to you. What are you so afraid of?"
Koji's voice was small. "I don't want to be alone."
She stared at him.
"I… I know it's bad. But if Kenji leaves… no one else will talk to me."
A pause.
Hana knelt again, her voice softer. "You hide from him in school. You wait for him to leave before coming out. That's not friendship."
Koji's anger flared. He shoved her hand away.
"What do you know? You don't talk to anyone. You just sit alone all the time. You act like you understand."
She went quiet, eyes on the dirt.
Almost in a whisper: "I'll talk to you."
Koji blinked.
"I'll hang out with you," Hana said. "If you meant what you said."
"I don't need your pity," Koji muttered.
Hana smiled faintly. "It's not pity. It's a choice."
Koji frowned. "What do you mean?"
She stood and started walking away.
"Come to the beach tomorrow," she said over her shoulder. "There's someone I want you to meet."
The sun dipped toward the horizon, painting the park in fading gold.
**SCENE CHANGE**
Elsewhere, the cracks in the town deepened.
Koji's mother sat stiffly at her office desk as her shift ended. Her senior officer leaned in, smile too forced. She gave a polite laugh, excused herself, and walked quickly out of the building, her expression unreadable.
On the way home, her hands trembled. She cursed him under her breath.
In another corner of town, young Kenji stepped through the back entrance of a small store — the one beneath his apartment. He paused before opening the door.
"I'm home," he called quietly.
Inside, a woman in her twenties — heavy makeup, cigarette in hand — turned to him with irritation.
"You're back already?"
"Wasting money again," Kenji said coldly.
She shot him a glare. "Watch your mouth. I'm your mom."
"You're not," Kenji replied, eyes sharp.
The woman scoffed. "True. I'm not your real mom. But I'm stuck with you anyway. And your real mother? She wouldn't have liked you either."
Kenji's fists tightened.
"Where are you going?"
"Out. Friends. Don't wait up."
At the door, she turned.
"Oh. I didn't cook anything. Your friends give you money, right? Buy something."
She slammed the door.
Kenji stood alone in the silence, staring at the coin he'd stolen from Koji earlier.
**THE PRESENT**
The store lights flickered under the weight of the night sky. Kenji stood behind the counter of his small shop, packing the last few items. Outside, the streets had gone quiet — only the hum of passing cars and the distant crash of waves.
The bell above the door chimed.
Koji stepped inside.
"You still working?"
Kenji looked up, surprised. "Nah. Just about done." He shut the register. "Let's close up and hit the onsen. Feels like my bones are rusting."
Koji gave a tired nod. "Sure."
They walked under the orange glow of streetlights. The silence between them felt familiar — not uncomfortable, but weighted.
Kenji glanced over. "Sorry for bringing it up earlier. I know you don't like talking about her."
Koji shook his head. "It's not your fault. I'm sorry too… for kicking you out this morning."
Kenji waved it off. "Water under the bridge."
A beat passed.
Koji hesitated. "Do you still think about her?"
Kenji didn't answer immediately. "Not much. But… I still visit her grave sometimes. Not sure it helps. I still blame myself for what happened that day."
Koji looked away, guilt pressing into his chest, but said nothing.
They passed a glowing convenience store.
Kenji nudged him. "Let's grab something to eat before the onsen."
Koji glanced at the window. "We can get it after."
"Nope," Kenji smirked. "Get it now before all the good stuff's gone."
Koji sighed. "Fine. How much?"
Kenji stopped him. "Don't worry. My treat tonight."
They stepped inside, bathed in cold fluorescent light. Koji moved between the aisles, picking up a rice ball and a can of coffee. He made his way to the counter while Kenji lingered by the drinks.
Koji froze.
Behind the counter stood a woman — the neighbor who had peeked out from her apartment earlier, then shut the door the moment she saw him.
She looked up. Their eyes met.
Her lips parted — as if to speak — but she said nothing.
Her fingers, trembling slightly, tightened around the receipt roll.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.