The sky has turned that soft bruised-purple that comes right before evening.
Our shadows stretch long and thin across the pavement, two silhouettes that
have walked this exact route since we were small enough to hold hands.
Kiyomi kicks an empty can. It rattles ahead of us like a lazy soccer ball.
Kiyomi
You forgot your umbrella again yesterday.
Third time this month.
The teacher had to lend you one of those tiny kid ones with the frog face.
Kiyoshi
…I got home dry.
Kiyomi
Barely.
You also left your math textbook in the clubroom last week.
Tadashi found it and carried it around like a lost puppy until he could give it
back.
She glances at me sideways.
Kiyomi
You've been spacing out a lot.
Like, more than your usual "I'm secretly judging everyone" spacing out.
This is new levels.
I keep my eyes on the cracks in the sidewalk.
Count them.
One, two, three.
Kiyoshi
I'm fine.
Kiyomi
You're not.
But I'm not gonna push.
Just… try to stay inside your own body sometimes, okay?
She falls quiet for a few steps. Then her voice changes (lighter, nostalgic).
Kiyomi
Remember when we were kids and you decided you were going to be a
superhero?
Kiyoshi
…Vaguely.
Kiyomi
You made that cape out of Mom's old red tablecloth.
Tied it around your neck with a shoelace.
Then you climbed the tallest tree in the park to "survey your territory."
She laughs under her breath.
Kiyomi
You got stuck up there for two hours.
Wouldn't let the fire department help because "heroes don't need rescuing."
Eventually I had to climb up and carry you down on my back.
You were crying but pretending it was the wind in your eyes.
She bumps my shoulder.
Kiyomi
You were so cool back then.
Fearless.
Everyone in class wanted to be your friend.
You just didn't care.
I don't answer.
I remember the tree.
I remember the cape.
I remember feeling like the whole world was mine to save.
Kiyomi
You still have that in you, you know.
The cool part.
It's just… buried under all the quiet lately.
We pass the vending machines that always eat our coins.
Kiyomi stops, digs in her pocket, buys two canned coffees anyway.
Hands me one without asking.
Kiyomi
Speaking of people who think you're cool…She pops her tab. Takes a sip.
Watches me over the rim.
Kiyomi
Yui-chan spent twenty minutes today trying to fix the part of your hair that was
sticking up.
While you were unconscious.
Kept saying "he's going to hate this" every time she touched it.
She lets that sit in the air for a second.
Kiyomi
She also asked me—like, five separate times—if you like melon bread or custard.
Because she "happened to buy extra."
Another sip.
Kiyomi
I'm not saying anything.
I'm just reporting facts.
I stare at the canned coffee in my hand.
The aluminum is already warming from my palm.
Kiyoshi
I noticed.
Kiyomi
Good.
Because she's dying over there and you're the only one who doesn't see it.
She starts walking again.
Kiyomi
I want you to be happy, idiot.
That's all.
If melon-bread girl makes you happy, great.
If not, that's fine too.
Just… don't miss it because you're too busy being absent from your own life.
We reach the corner where our house is visible two blocks down.
The streetlights flicker on one by one.
I stop walking.
Kiyoshi
I get it.
I do.
Kiyomi
But?
Kiyoshi
But right now…
I don't think I can.
I look at her finally.
Kiyoshi
Everything's still broken inside.
I don't know which parts are mine and which parts are just echoes.
I don't want to drag anyone into that mess until I figure it out.
Kiyomi studies my face for a long moment.
Then she reaches up and flicks my forehead—same spot as always.
Kiyomi
Fair enough.
But when you do start putting the pieces back together…
don't forget there are people waiting to help carry them.
She turns and keeps walking, hands in her pockets now, voice drifting back over
her shoulder.
Kiyomi
Also, I'm telling Mom you lost another umbrella.
Prepare for the lecture of your life.
I follow her slowly.
The canned coffee is still unopened in my hand.
The evening feels wide and quiet and a little less heavy than before.
I noticed.
I really did.
But for now, that's all I can do.
The last of the sunset is bleeding out behind the hills.
We're on the quiet stretch of road just before the turn to our house when Kiyomi
slows her steps and glances sideways.
Kiyomi
Hey.
Shrine.
Come with me for a minute?
She doesn't wait, just angles off the pavement and starts up the stone steps
that disappear between the cedar trees.
The red torii at the bottom glows faintly under the paper lanterns that someone
already lit.
I hesitate.
My legs are still shaky from earlier, my head a dull throb.
But she's already three steps ahead, hands tucked behind her back like we're
seven again and she's dragging me on some harmless adventure.
Kiyoshi
…Okay.
The climb is slow.
Our shoes scrape softly on the mossy stone.
Halfway up, the town lights blink on below us, tiny and distant.
At the top the shrine is empty.
Just the honden, the offering box, the two fox guardians wearing their faded red
bibs.
The air smells like incense and wet leaves.
Kiyomi steps forward first.
Clap—clap.
Bow.
Coin into the box—clink.
She shakes the thick rope; the bell gives its low, tired voice.
I follow behind her, mirroring every motion.
Clap—clap.
Bow.
Coin.
Bell.
We stand side by side in the hush.
Kiyomi (soft, almost to the wind)
Do you remember when we were eight and snuck up here on Tanabata?
We tied our tanzaku so high the old priest found them weeks later and scolded
the whole neighborhood.
I nod without thinking.
Kiyoshi
Yeah.
You wished for a little brother who actually listened.
I wished we could stay kids forever.
Kiyomi
And then we bought shaved ice from the stall at the bottom—blue Hawaii flavor
—and you spilled half of it down your yukata.
A small, nostalgic smile tugs at her mouth.
Kiyoshi
You laughed so hard you snorted syrup out your nose.
She hums, pleased, like the memory is warm candy on her tongue.
Kiyomi
And that winter when we were ten… the pond behind the shrine froze solid for the first time in years.
We tried skating in our school shoes and you fell straight through.
I had to pull you out by your scarf.
Your lips were completely purple.
Kiyoshi
You cried harder than I did.
Kept saying "don't die, don't die" while we walked home dripping.
Kiyomi
Because you looked like a half-drowned kitten.
She closes her eyes for a second, breathing in the cedar scent, smile still in
place.
Then she opens them again and stares straight ahead at the dark wooden doors
of the honden.
Her lips barely move.
Kiyomi (so quiet only the night hears)
But none of that ever happened.
She doesn't look at me.
Doesn't blink.
Just keeps that gentle smile fixed in place like a mask.
Kiyomi (still whispering to herself)
We never came here on Tanabata when we were eight.
The pond never froze hard enough to stand on.
I just made those up.
Both of them.Her fingers curl tighter around the strap of her bag.Kiyomi (voice
softer than the wind)
And you remembered every detail I didn't even give you.
Perfectly.She bows once more to the shrine, polite and composed, then turns to
me with the same easy smile she's worn since we left school.Kiyomi
Come on.
Curry's waiting.
Mom's gonna kill us if we're late again. She starts down the steps without looking
back. I follow a pace behind, the bell's last echo fading above us. The night feels
suddenly wider.
Colder. And somewhere behind her calm eyes, I know she's still asking the
question she will never say out loud. Who are you really? But she keeps it locked
inside,
smiling like nothing in the world has changed,
all the way home.