The swings creaked softly in the twilight, slow and lazy, like they had been waiting all evening for someone to remember them. Three girls sat there together, their silhouettes outlined by the fading light, moving in a quiet rhythm that felt older than any of them. One swung high enough for her shoes to almost kiss the sky, another drifted low and steady, and the third let herself sway with the wind as if she belonged more to the moment than to the ground beneath her feet.
They laughed at nothing in particular, the kind of warm, shapeless laughter that only comes when the day is ending and nobody is in a hurry to leave. Fireflies blinked awake among the trees, pale gold against the growing blue, as if twilight itself was exhaling around them. It was simple, ordinary, familiar. Three girls on swings, their voices tangled with the cicadas and the soft rustle of grass. Nothing more and nothing less.
The girl swinging highest slowed first, heels scraping across the dust until dry earth puffed up around her. Mimi. Pale blonde hair tied in two careless twintails, strands escaping like they had better things to do. Her eyes were sharp, bright, restless as ever.
"I cannot believe we once thought we could do makeup," she said, already laughing. "Ragna walked in with a single lip balm. One. Just one."
The girl beside her scoffed, dark red jellyfish-cut hair framing her face in uneven shadows. Ragna sat like gravity bent differently around her, push steady, measured.
"It was a good lip balm," Ragna replied, unimpressed with the universe. "Unlike your makeup box from 2010, full of glitter, broken eyeshadow, and questionable decisions."
Mimi gasped as if personally attacked. "It was a treasure chest, thank you. Neera just ruined it with her earthquake eyeliner."
Neera, black hair neat, blue eyes calm and observant, was barely swinging at all. Her voice held that clean precision she always carried.
"I do not understand why my hands shook," she said. "I had perfect aim. The problem was… maintaining direction."
Mimi burst into laughter so hard her swing twisted sideways.
"You drew one line on my eyelid and one on my eyebrow. I looked like I was ascending to a higher plane," she wheezed.
"You looked like the plane rejected you," Ragna corrected in her usual deadpan voice, which only made Mimi wheeze harder.
Neera finally smiled, slow but warm. "At least you were colorful. I contributed eyeliner chaos and Ragna contributed chapstick diplomacy."
Their laughter tangled in the twilight leaves, easy and familiar.
Mimi leaned back, hair spilling like sunlight behind her. "And the kitty party. The one where we were supposed to bring food."
Ragna groaned instantly, shoulders stiff with remembered dishonor. "I told you. I brought traditional tea because my family decided it for me. It was elegant."
"It burned my tongue off."
"It was fresh," Ragna insisted.
Neera raised her hand like she was presenting evidence. "I brought gulab jamuns. They were warm. And sweet. And sticky. And they fused into one large sphere."
"We sliced it like a cake," Mimi said, hand over her mouth.
Ragna nodded, solemn. "One giant jamun. A miracle of physics."
"It was a diabetic war crime," Mimi muttered, but she was smiling like the memory lit her from inside.
Their swings slowed again, almost still. Twilight deepened into something softer.
Neera looked at the dirt beneath her shoes, thoughtful. "We used to play here. These same swings. These same benches. We jumped off just to see who could land… gracefully."
Mimi snorted, leaning back until the chains squeaked. "Gracefully? We were mostly trying not to die."
Ragna's reply was immediate, flat in delivery but almost fond. "You were the first to fall," she said, not mocking, just remembering. Her lips twitched like she was holding back a smile. "You tripped over your own shoelaces."
"You pushed me," Mimi shot back, dramatic sigh and all.
"I nudged you," Ragna corrected, faint pink dusting her cheeks. "You overreacted."
Mimi narrowed her eyes playfully. "I face-planted into the mud."
"Yes," Ragna admitted, soft, like nostalgia had rounded all the old edges. "And you got up laughing. You always did."
Neera didn't interrupt. She watched them with that quiet, anchored warmth of hers, a small smile tucked into her voice. Fireflies glowed around them lazily, matching pace with their swaying.
Mimi was the first to get the idea, because of course she was.
She leaned forward on her swing, blonde hair flying behind her like a flag of bad decisions. "What if we try it again?" she said, grin wide enough to be illegal. "One jump. For old times' sake."
Ragna raised one brow. Neera blinked like someone who needed ten seconds to calculate injury statistics. But the swings were already moving again, higher, faster, wind catching clothes and laughter in equal measure.
Mimi went first.
She kicked off with a whoop, body sailing through the air like she had wings tucked under her ribs. For a moment she froze mid-flight, striking a dramatic idol pose — hand up, one knee bent, showmanship in her bloodstream — then landed lightly on her tiptoes, stumbling only half a step before throwing both arms up in victory.
"TADA," she declared, like she had just performed at a stadium.
Ragna followed without announcing it, because she was not the dramatic type. No posing, no flair, just a quiet inhale and a clean jump. She hit the ground harder, momentum driving her forward to her knees. Gravel bit into her skin, red forming instantly along the scraped patches, but she didn't flinch. She just brushed dirt off like it was dust on a book spine.
"Could have been smoother," she muttered, pretending it didn't sting.
Then came Neera.
She took longer to lift her feet, swing slower, steadier, less reckless. The air caught her hair, the world tilted, and she pushed off a second too late to be graceful.
For one heart-beat she actually looked like she might make it.
And then she didn't.
Neera hit the ground in an unplanned combination of knees, hands, and dignity. Except the sound was wrong. There was no sharp gravel scrape, no solid thump of body meeting earth. Instead there was a soft hollow thud, like someone dropping a cushion over wood. Like the ground had space beneath it.
Mimi and Ragna froze mid-laugh.
Neera stayed face-down a moment longer than pride should allow, palms pressed into the dirt as if trying to confirm reality.
She lifted her head slowly, hair sticking to her cheek, eyes wide and baffled.
"…Did anyone else hear that?" she asked.
The swings behind them swayed empty, chains whispering in the twilight.
Neera stayed crouched, fingers hovering over the patch of grass like she expected it to whisper back. Mimi tip-toed around the spot as if it might open up and swallow her whole, which frankly only encouraged her curiosity more.
Ragna folded her arms, staring at the dirt with narrowed eyes. "That was hollow. Something's under here."
Mimi gasped dramatically. "Hidden treasure. Pirate gold. A chest full of diamonds and tax-free income."
Neera finally stood, dusting off her knees. "It is not treasure. It is probably a broken sewer line."
"That's even better," Mimi said immediately. "What if there's a mutant crocodile? Or like… cursed Victorian dolls?"
Ragna squinted. "Why would Victorian dolls be in a sewer?"
"Why wouldn't they?" Mimi countered without missing a beat. "They're creepy, they lurk, they judge you with their little glass eyes— sewer is perfect real estate."
Neera pinched the bridge of her nose. "We are not digging up cursed playthings."
"I think it's a wine cellar," Ragna said, surprisingly thoughtful. "Old houses around here had them. If someone built this park over one, the ceiling might be right beneath us."
Mimi lit up like a match. "Wine cellar means secret room. Secret room means ghost crime scene. Ghost crime scene means haunted vintage furniture. I want a haunted wardrobe."
"You already sont enough chaos to haunt things yourself," Ragna replied, tone flat but lips curved at the corner.
Mimi turned to Neera. "Okay scientist girl, what's your theory?"
Neera crossed her arms, considering. "Possibilities include: one, a buried storage bunker. Two, old catacombs or tunnels from wartime. Three, someone hiding an antique car. Four, a very expensive underground cheese vault."
Ragna blinked. "…Cheese vault?"
"Yes," Neera said with grave seriousness. "Cheese needs precise conditions. Temperature controlled environments. Humidity-balanced maturation. It is very possible we are standing over a wheel of parmesan older than us."
Mimi looked like she had seen the face of God. "Cheese treasure."
"Please don't call it that."
"Cheese treasure," Mimi repeated louder, as if summoning fate.
Ragna crouched down beside them, brushing away a little dirt with the back of her hand. The hollow sound still lingered in her mind. "We could dig," she offered. "Just enough to see if there's wood or metal."
Neera stared at her like this was both the best and worst idea of the evening. "We do not have tools. Only our bare hands."
Mimi gasped again — the spark-of-stupid decision igniting behind her eyes. "The park maintenance shed. It's still there. I know for a fact they keep trowels and a rusty shovel."
Ragna's smile was tiny, but it was there. "Are we really doing this?"
Neera hesitated for exactly one second.
Then she sighed. "If we find cheese, I'm keeping half."
Mimi held out her hand like they were signing a pact.
"Treasure, relic, sewer crocodile, or parmesan," she declared. "We go down together."
Ragna placed her hand on top of Mimi's. "Together."
Neera stared at them like a rational adult. Then placed her hand too.
"Fine," she said. "But if we get arrested, Mimi is taking the blame."
Mimi beamed proudly. "As always."
And just like that, the three of them turned toward the maintenance shed, twilight thick around them, swings still swaying behind like they didn't want to be left out.
The maintenance shed sat at the far edge of the park, half swallowed by shadows and overgrown shrubbery. The kind of place adults ignore and kids dare each other to poke with sticks. A rusted padlock hung on the handle like it had survived a world war and planned to survive this evening too.
It did not expect Mimi.
"Okay," Mimi whispered, crouching like a spy despite wearing bright hair ties that practically glowed. "Operation Acquire Weapons."
Neera and Ragna flanked her automatically, one on each side, pretending this was a coordinated mission and not three friends committing petty crime with zero preparation.
Mimi scoured the ground until she found it — a rock big enough to be considered a geological threat. She lifted it with alarming enthusiasm.
Neera stared. "You cannot be serious."
Mimi grinned like a goblin. "I am always serious."
Ragna sighed, but there was amusement flickering beneath her steady expression. "We'll watch. You smash. I'll whistle if someone comes."
Neera straightened her back like she was about to defend a thesis. "I will create innocent conversation if an adult approaches. You two keep smashing. I will stall."
Mimi raised the rock like she was choosing violence with God as her witness.
Ragna and Neera took their places on lookout duty, scanning the park with the intense focus of security guards earning minimum wage.
Mimi swung.
The first hit landed with a metallic clang, loud enough to startle a bird out of a nearby tree. All three girls froze instantly.
Silence. No footsteps. No shouts. Just cicadas and Mimi's heartbeat trying to escape her body.
She tried again. Clang. The lock dented.
Third swing. CLANG. A piece chipped off with a victorious crack.
Ragna peeked inside the shed window. "One more hit should do it."
Mimi squared her shoulders, like she was about to deliver a finishing move in a boss fight.
She brought the rock down with full force.
CRACK.
The lock snapped clean, fell into the dirt like even it had decided to give up.
Mimi stood there panting, glowing with triumph, rock still raised like a weapon of divine judgment.
Neera exhaled slowly. "That was… actually effective."
Mimi looked proud. "I am a woman of many talents."
Ragna opened the shed door with her foot, like she hadn't just participated in mild vandalism. "Let's get what we came for before someone sees."
Inside the shed was darkness, the smell of rust, cobwebs, forgotten tools and rain-damp wood.
Neera found a flashlight on a hook, flicked it on and dust motes spun through the beam like tiny stars.
"Bingo," Mimi said, reaching for a small shovel, a trowel, and a gardening fork like loot drops in a video game.
They passed tools into each other's hands with silent ceremony.
No one talked about what they were actually doing.
They didn't need to.
This was the kind of bad idea that didn't require logic, only friendship.
"We dig," Mimi whispered, breathless with excitement.
Ragna nodded, already turning back toward the swings.
Neera closed the shed door gently behind them, lockless and guilty, then jogged to catch up.
Three girls.
Three stolen tools.
A hollow patch of earth waiting where their childhood once sat.
This was not destiny.
This was curiosity with dirty shoes and adrenaline in its teeth.