The following morning came rushing in, eager to start the day.

Maki anxiously observed her son's withdrawn demeanor as he ate, a stark contrast to Haruki's usual self. The boy had always been a lively presence at the table, so witnessing this sudden change in behavior sent a wave of concern through her veins.

She nudged her husband, who was engrossed in picking at his grilled fish and veggie stir-fry, silently urging him to take notice of their son.

Akashi glanced at Haruki but found nothing amiss, giving a nonchalant shrug as he wondered why his wife was making such a fuss.

Unable to bear it any longer, Maki set her chopsticks aside and spoke up. "Haru, sweetheart, are you sure you'll be alright on your own?"

The boy nodded, his voice carrying a hint of reassurance. "I'll be fine."

"We could stay a few extra days, spend the beginning of summer vacation with you," Maki coaxed, her efforts focused on brightening her son's spirits.

However, Haruki simply smiled and shook his head. "Nah, don't worry about me. You and Dad have important work to do. Remember, you're both in demand."

As marketing managers with hectic schedules, Maki and Akashi were rarely at home. They constantly attended conferences and business trips, often traveling far from their family. Haruki had grown up well aware of this reality, accepting it long ago.

That's why he had spent most of his life with his older sister. When the family still resided in Kyoto a few years ago, Haru had lived with his cousins and grandparents, with Ayame always by his side. Now that she had gone abroad, Maki couldn't help but feel a twinge of worry.

"We'll be gone for a whole week or more," she reminded him. "You'll be alone the entire time."

"I'm sure I can handle it," he chuckled. "Besides, this isn't the first time you've left for a trip like this. I've gotten used to it."

Indeed, it wasn't the first time his parents had been away for an extended period. However, this time they were leaving their son completely on his own.

"If he says he'll be fine, then he will be," Akashi chimed in between bites of rice. Leaning back in his chair, he continued, "He's already a teenager, and a boy at that. We'd be more worried if it were a younger version of Ayame. Are you afraid he'll throw a wild party or something?"

Maki had long accepted that Haruki would never engage in such antics, especially since he had never formed lasting friendships. The few people he had tried to bond with had either moved away or severed ties for reasons he couldn't fathom. That's why his sister had been his sole companion throughout his childhood.

"If that were to happen, it would actually make me a little happy," Maki sighed, turning her attention back to Haru. "Well, this is an opportunity for you to make new friends and create bonds. Ayame will be doing the same," she encouraged.

"Yeah," the young teenager agreed with another subtle nod.

But making friends seemed like an arduous and daunting task. Of course, he could never voice such thoughts to his mother, who held such high hopes for him.

An hour after the family's breakfast, Maki and Akashi embarked on their trip, leaving Haruki completely alone at home for the first time in his life. The house descended into an eerie silence, suffocating him.

Nevertheless, he resolved to shake off the unease and indulge in some mind-numbing television.

Before long, boredom consumed him. As he endured the monotonous programs on the oversized screen, he absentmindedly fiddled with his mobile phone.

The urge to call his sister and demand answers about being kept in the dark gnawed at him, but after pondering for a while, he dismissed the idea. If she refused to communicate, he would reciprocate in kind. Fair play.

With that decision firmly in mind, Haruki tossed his cellphone aside, rose from the couch, and departed the house a few minutes later.

...

Originally intending to take a leisurely stroll around a few blocks near his house and return once his legs grew tired, Haruki inexplicably found himself being drawn in a particular direction. Before he knew it, he stood before a familiar park entrance mere blocks away, prompting memories of the enigmatic child from the day before.

...He wondered about what had happened him.

After deep contemplation, Haruki leisurely made his way toward the entrance. It didn't take much effort to recall the precise location. As soon as he stepped through the park gates, he headed straight for that recognizable tree.

The late morning had brought a surge of people to the park. Love-struck couples seemed to outnumber the previous day, and the place was so congested that Haruki was tempted to turn back on multiple occasions. If that tree turned out to be swarmed by 'those kinds of people', he swore never to return.

Surprisingly, however, there was no one present. Just like the day before, the tree stood isolated, as if it didn't belong to the park at all...

Yet, an eerie sensation tingled in Haruki's spine.

It had been understandable yesterday, during the twilight hours, but now? What kept people away? Was this tree somehow sacred?

Such thoughts nearly pushed him to retreat, but the possibility of encountering that child again brought back his courage, compelling him to approach the familiar swing.

**

The little ginger-haired boy held his book firmly, straightening in his seat as the sound of footsteps crunching leaves and twigs reached his ears, casting a shadow of melancholy over him.

By now, he should have grown accustomed to people incessantly invading his space, yet it still annoyed him. He despised being disturbed, which is why he always pocketed a handful of pebbles each day he scaled the tree. Hidden high above, he could pelt the interlopers without them ever suspecting his involvement.

He had encountered such nuisances before, couples seeking a secluded spot for romantic encounters. But now, many people knew better than to venture near the tree. The mystery of the flying stones remained unsolved to them.

So, who dared approach this legendary tree?

If it were just one person, he could ignore them, as long as they kept their noise to themselves and refrained from any peculiar behavior.

He observed the figure walking towards the swing, scanning the surroundings as if searching for someone. Finally, their gaze lifted upwards, locking directly onto the child's position, their calm, brown eyes meeting his.

The ginger-haired boy's heart jolted.

It was... the same person from yesterday? But what brought him here?

Meanwhile, Haruki found no one perched on the branch he had encountered the day before, scratching his head in confusion. Why did he feel a little disappointed? Had he secretly hoped to find the child and apologize for his outburst?

But at least now, knowing the child had returned home, a sense of relief washed over him.

"So dumb, why was I so concerned?" Haruki muttered, taking a seat on the swing and gently tapping his toes to push himself back and forth. Since he was already there, there was no need to rush back home. He might as well stay and appreciate nature.

A few moments after he was already lost in thought, a sudden voice shattered his reverie.

"It's you again."

Haruki jolted upright, his body tense, taken aback by the unexpected interruption. He turned to face the once-vacant branch, only to find the same kid from yesterday perched on its edge, staring right at him. And just like before, the kid clutched a book in his hands, his bare feet swinging casually from the branch.

Haruki and the kid locked eyes, their gazes maintaining a silent standoff. One appeared composed, while the other seemed on the verge of losing his sanity.

Breaking their little stare-down, Haruki mustered a stiff smile as he broke into a cold sweat.

A hallucination. It's a hallucination.

"Hello?"

The child's voice pierced through Haruki's racing heart, as if he had stumbled upon some great misfortune by showing up uninvited. Moments ago, Haruki was certain that no one occupied that spot. So how come he was suddenly seeing that kid again?

Could this kid be... a gho—

Suppressing the horrifying thought, Haruki took a deep breath, attempting to steady himself. He fervently hoped that when he turned around again, the illusion would be gone.

Slowly, Haruki mustered the courage to look up once more. The kid remained perched on the branch, but his attention had already shifted to the book in his grasp.

Summoning his voice, though it trembled slightly, Haruki spoke, "H-Hey kid, can... can you hear me?"

The ginger-haired child's inquisitive gray eyes met his own.

Haruki's heart raced, his words tumbling out. "Are you... maybe... a ghost?"

A profound silence stretched between them, the other kid giving Haruki a bewildered stare. Finally, exhaling a sigh, the kid nodded. "Yes."

Haruki suddenly wanted to go home.

The boy continued, matter-of-factly, "I'm the ghost of the child who died on that swing. Bound to this area for all eternity. That's why I'm always lingering around here."

Haruki bolted off the swing, aghast, his horror confirmed. His intuition had been right all along—this place was far from ordinary. No wonder people avoided it.

He was so petrified that even the "ghost kid" could sense his fear.

The ginger-haired boy scoffed inwardly; Doesn't take much to scare this guy. He's a little dumb.

Haruki nervously scratched the back of his neck, avoiding the boy's indifferent gaze, his emotions entangled.

"Look, I didn't know this... was your sacred place, so I apologize," he stammered, struggling to find the right words after such a shocking revelation. He had intended to apologize for his earlier rudeness as well, so he added, "And for yesterday."

The boy stared at him in disbelief, then reached into one of his pockets and produced a small, round object. Taking aim at Haruki's shoulder, he flung it with precision.

"Ow!" Haruki winced, too slow to react, as the small projectile struck his shoulder, leaving a stinging sensation. He rubbed his shoulder, retrieving the object from the grass near his foot. It was a tiny pebble. He glanced back at the kid, puzzled. "Why did you—?"

"You see, I'm not a ghost," the boy declared.

"But why hit me?" Haruki retorted.

"To prove that I'm human. I was sitting two branches above you earlier, so you didn't notice me."

"You could have simply said that from the beginning," Haruki grumbled indignantly, though he couldn't deny the immense relief washing over him. "Even so, I meant what I said. Especially about yesterday. I was mean."

"Is that why you came back?" the boy inquired.

"What? Can't I come back to the park anymore?" Haruki raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "I only returned to make sure you were okay. When I left yesterday, the park was closing, and I wanted to make sure you hadn't been locked in. Judging by your change of clothes, I guess you made it home safely then."

The kid's brows shot up, stunned by Haruki's unexpected concern.

Haruki suddenly became aware of his own words, and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He quickly averted his gaze, feeling flustered. "Hey, uh... I'm not trying to be weird or anything. I just think kids shouldn't be out so late. You never know what might happen."

The child remained silent, uncertain of how to respond.

Haruki chose to stay quiet as well, fearing that saying more would only make him seem creepier. He stubbornly avoided eye contact.

"Why would you be concerned, though?" the child finally asked, clearly confused. "We're strangers, aren't we?"

"Yeah, so what?" Haru leaned back on the swing, absentmindedly picking up a long, dry stick from the ground and poking at the grass. "Even if we're strangers, we belong in the same cluster. We're both kids."

The boy sat quietly in his tree, contemplating Haruki's words.

They were... the same?

~~~~~~