Kenshin leaned back in his chair, his eyes softening as he listened to Yumio ramble excitedly about her day—the books she’d been reading, the cats stealing her snacks, how she tried writing a chapter but ended up wrestling with crumpled pages instead. Her hands moved animatedly with every detail, her voice bright and unrestrained.

  He smiled, not just at her words, but at the familiar warmth behind them.

  She reminded him of someone.

  Of his daughter.

  Of Bambi.

  “You remind me more of your aunt than Ariana…” he murmured, almost to himself, but loud enough for Yumio to pause mid-sentence.

  She blinked, turning toward him with curiosity glowing in her sapphire eyes. “Do I really resemble Auntie more than Ariana?” she asked, tilting her head. “I’ve been hearing that ever since the ball. People say I resemble Auntie.”

  Kenshin let out a quiet chuckle and nodded. “You have Bambi’s character. Her energy. Her… spark.” He gestured vaguely, searching for the right word, then added, “When you talk, you’re just like her.”

  Yumio’s brows met in the center. “How about Ariana, Grandfather?” she asked, genuinely curious.

  This time, Kenshin’s expression shifted—so subtly that Yumio didn’t notice. A slight shadow passed over his eyes. A memory he didn’t enjoy remembering.

  “Ariana…” he began slowly, folding his hands together. “Ariana took more from her father, except for her looks.”

  Yumio straightened. “Who is Ria’s father? I’ve been curious ever since forever, but Mom, Dad… even Grandmother dismiss the topic.” She looked at him carefully, as if afraid he’d shut down too.

  Kenshin sighed, long and heavy, as though preparing to lift an old burden. He adjusted his position, knees cracking softly, before speaking.

  “Ariana’s father was not a good man,” he said, voice low. “He entrapped Bambi—took advantage of her trust—and left her. No intentions of marrying her. No responsibility. Nothing.”

  Yumio’s breath caught. She had never imagined such a thing. All her life, the topic of Aunt Bambi was a wall everyone refused to touch. All Yumio knew was the outline: her aunt existed once, she gave birth to Ariana, and she died.

  No details.

  No stories.

  No warmth.

  Just silence.

  Like Bambi was a name they kept locked away.

  Yumio lowered her gaze. What kind of life did she live? Why was she erased? Thoughts crowded her mind, triggered by the conversation she had overheard days ago—her parents whispering in the hallway, mentioning Bambi’s name with a strange tightness in their voices.

  She swallowed. “I… want to know more about Aunt Bambi.”

  Kenshin looked at her—really looked at her. His eyes softened, and a nostalgic smile tugged at his lips.

  “Bambi was so much like you,” he said quietly. “Full of life. She was impossible to keep still. If she wasn’t sketching something, she was feeding stray cats, or climbing trees, or trying a new hobby she discovered five minutes ago.” He chuckled softly, though the sound trembled. “She loved animals. Loved people. Had a way of making every place brighter.”

  His voice faltered.

  Kenshin’s expression dimmed as memories he’d tucked away resurfaced. Painful ones. His eyes became glassy, and he looked down at his hands as if afraid the memories would spill out if he met Yumio’s gaze.

  “Grandfather?” Yumio said softly.

  He blinked, straightening, forcing a small smile. “Ah. Sorry, Mio.”

  Then, as if making a decision, he nodded toward the cabinet a few steps away. “Can you go over to that cabinet?” he asked, pointing carefully. “Grab the box on the upper right.”

  Yumio stood and walked to the cabinet, opening it slowly. Inside were stacks of old documents, fragile envelopes, and one particular box—small, dusty, but carefully protected. She lifted it gently and brought it back to Kenshin.

  He smiled as she held it out. “Open it.”

  With careful hands, Yumio lifted the lid.

  Inside lay a collection of items—hair ribbons, faded photographs, a small sketchbook, a keychain with a tiny carved rabbit, a folded letter tied with a red string. Little pieces of a life frozen in time.

  “What’s this?” she whispered.

  “These,” Kenshin said softly, “were Bambi’s things. The things she cherished. The things… she left behind.” He placed a hand over Yumio’s. “You can find what you’re looking for there. Maybe even understand her better than any of us ever could.”

  Emotion swelled in Yumio’s chest—curiosity, excitement, sadness, longing—all tangled together. She set the box down carefully and leaned over to hug her grandfather, arms wrapping tightly around him.

  “Thank you, Grandfather,” she whispered, her voice almost trembling.

  Kenshin chuckled softly and hugged her back, patting her head like he used to when she was small. “Don’t do anything reckless,” he warned gently. “Understanding the past can be painful.”

  Yumio pulled back with a confident smile, though her heart thudded with anticipation. “I won’t.”

  But even as she said it, the box in her hands felt like the beginning of something big. Something life-changing.

  She had finally found a trail.

  And she intended to follow it.

  Yumio carefully lifted the lid of the box, her heart beating a little faster as a faint scent of old paper and perfume drifted out—something flowery, something soft. Something that felt like a memory she never had.

  Inside lay several items, neatly packed but aged by time. The first thing that caught her attention was a stack of old photo albums, edges worn and corners bent.

  She gently pulled one out and opened it.

  The first pages showed a young girl with bright eyes and long, silky hair—Bambi. She was barefoot on a porch, holding a kitten. On another page, she was covered in paint, grinning proudly as if chaos was her natural habitat.

  Yumio smiled. She could almost hear Bambi’s laughter through the pages.

  As she flipped through, more faces appeared. Her grandparents, younger and softer. Her father, Takeshi, smiling in ways she rarely saw now. In one photo, he was lifting Bambi onto his shoulders, both laughing.

  But then she froze.

  A new page.

  A different setting.

  Four children standing beneath the sunlight.

  Three boys and one girl.

  The girl—Bambi—she recognized instantly. Beside her stood a young Takeshi, maybe ten years old, grinning confidently. But the other two boys…

  Yumio’s brows furrowed.

  She had never seen them before. Not in any family photo. Not in albums. Not in framed pictures around the house. Not even mentioned in passing.

  She turned the page. There they were again. And again. In picnic photos. In school festival photos. Running together across a field. Sitting around a birthday cake. Always together. Like brothers.

  “Who… are you two?” Yumio whispered, tracing their small faces with her thumb.

  Her father had never talked about friends from his childhood. Certainly not two boys who appeared to be practically part of the family.

  She flipped through every album, looking for names scribbled on the back of photos—but most were blank or labeled only with dates.

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  Her curiosity deepened until it felt like a physical ache.

  Setting the albums aside, Yumio returned to the box. Underneath the photos was a bundle of personal items—a small notebook, a bracelet with tiny charms, two dried flowers pressed between sheets of paper, and a folded letter sealed shut with old tape. She hesitated to open it, saving it for later.

  Then she found more photographs.

  One caught her breath immediately.

  It was the willow tree.

  Her willow tree.

  Except younger—its trunk thinner, its branches less heavy, the swing still new and freshly painted. In the picture, a boy sat on the swing, head turned slightly as though he were laughing at whoever was behind the camera.

  But his face—scratched out.

  Not accidentally.

  Deliberately.

  Lines dragged across the photo, distorting the features completely.

  Yumio stared, confused. “Why…?”

  She picked up another photo.

  Her heart jumped.

  It was of the tree by the cliff—the exact place she used to visit with Lee. The cliff that overlooked the town like a watchtower. The air around it always smelled like wind and memory.

  In the picture, a girl—Bambi—sat beneath the tree, holding a notebook in her lap, hair brushing her cheeks as the wind blew.

  Yumio slowly sat back, both photos in her hands.

  “The willow tree… and the cliff…” she murmured, voice soft. “The same places I grew up loving. The same cliff where I met Lee.”

  Her eyes drifted back to the scratched picture.

  She studied the boy on the swing, though most of him was obscured. His posture was relaxed. His hands loosely held the ropes. He seemed familiar in a way she couldn’t explain.

  Something tugged at her memory—a whisper in the back of her mind.

  “His face wouldn’t be scratched if he wasn’t that important,” she said under her breath, words instinctual, unsettling.

  For a long moment, Yumio sat there in silence, the weight of the mystery pressing down on her.

  Who was the boy?

  And why did someone not want his face seen?

  Her eyes narrowed slightly, determination burning through her confusion.

  If the past was trying to hide something…

  Yumio would uncover it.

  A soft knock startled Yumio so hard she nearly dropped the photograph.

  Her heart leapt.

  Shoot! The box!

  In a quick panic, she gathered everything—the albums, the pictures, the bracelet—and gently but hurriedly placed them back inside. She shut the lid, slid it into her closet, and closed the door just as another knock sounded.

  Yumio inhaled deeply, smoothed her hair, and opened the door.

  Standing there was her mother, Emi, her expression calm but laced with concern.

  “Are you alright, sweetie?” Emi asked, her tone gentle, eyes scanning Yumio’s face as if searching for hidden emotions.

  “I’m fine, Mom,” Yumio answered quickly with a practiced smile. “I was just… reading here.”

  “The maids said you went to your grandfather’s room?” Emi tilted her head slightly.

  Yumio nodded, keeping her voice steady. “I went to check up on him. He gave me a box of some old books, so I was planning on reading them.”

  Emi’s face softened, the tension leaving her shoulders. “That sounds nice.” She reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair behind Yumio’s ear. “Alright, I’ll be going out for a while. Do you need anything before I leave?”

  Yumio shook her head. “I’ll be fine. Good luck, Mom.”

  “Thank you,” Emi said warmly before turning down the hallway.

  When Yumio closed the door, she released a slow, heavy sigh and dropped onto her bed.

  “This thing about Aunt Bambi…” she muttered to herself, staring up at the ceiling, “it’s really getting to me.”

  Her eyes drifted to her nightstand.

  To Lee’s picture.

  The boy with the soft smile and chocolate brown eyes who had once been her whole world. The friend who suddenly vanished without a goodbye.

  She brushed her fingers over the frame, then sat up abruptly with a spark of determination.

  Enough sitting around.

  She grabbed her guitar case, pulled on her favorite sweater, and headed downstairs. Her steps were quick, light, filled with purpose she hadn’t felt in days.

  Through the front doors, she saw her mother preparing to leave. Emi turned when she heard the soft clacking of the guitar case against Yumio’s leg.

  “Are you going somewhere?” Emi asked.

  “I’ll just go for a bike ride,” Yumio replied with a reassuring smile. “I’ll be back before dark.”

  Emi hesitated only for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. Be careful.”

  “I will!” Yumio called as she hopped on her bicycle.

  The breeze brushed through her hair as she pedaled out of the driveway.

  It was her first time biking through town.

  The freedom felt… exhilarating.

  She giggled softly to herself as she took turns down unfamiliar streets, letting curiosity guide her. Everything felt new—cars passing by, shop signs, people strolling down the sidewalks. She felt like a bird escaping a cage for the first time.

  Eventually, she stopped at a convenience store. She parked her bike and stepped inside.

  Her eyes widened at all the choices—rows of snacks, onigiri, instant ramen, colorful drinks stacked neatly behind glass. A world so normal yet so new to her.

  She grabbed a variety of snacks, some bread, and two drinks, wanting to try everything she could.

  After paying, she stepped back outside, breathing in the evening air.

  Now… what was the way again?

  She followed the path she remembered—a turn left at the bookstore, another right by the café with red lanterns, then into the alleyway. A few small turns later—

  She reached the base of the hill.

  Her heart fluttered.

  The place she hadn’t visited in so long.

  She parked her bike behind tall bushes and began the familiar climb. At the top, the wind greeted her first, followed by the silhouette of the large tree—standing exactly as she remembered. A guardian of memories.

  Yumio smiled softly, touched by nostalgia.

  She sat under the tree, the same place she once laughed, talked, and dreamed with Lee.

  She took out her guitar and began strumming, letting a soft melody drift into the air. Each chord tugged at her memories—Lee’s laughter, his soft humming, the songs they used to make up together.

  When the last note faded, she reached into her bag and pulled out a picture—the one of Bambi sitting under this exact tree.

  “How I want to know more about you, Aunt Bambi…” she whispered, tracing Bambi’s outline with her thumb. “You’re a mystery… like Liam.”

  The thought made her cheeks warm.

  She set the photo aside and began to play again—this time, the lullaby she sang at the ball. The one that filled the silent balcony the moment she met Liam.

  Her eyes closed as she swayed with the music, the breeze brushing against her face. She felt at peace, for a moment.

  Then—

  Footsteps.

  Slow. Approaching.

  Yumio’s eyes snapped open.

  Someone stood in the distance.

  She blinked, confused, until the figure stepped into the light.

  Her breath hitched.

  “Liam…?”

  He looked just as shocked. His eyes widened.

  “Mio…?”

  Their voices overlapped in disbelief.

  Two worlds colliding again in a place neither expected the other to find.

  For a long moment, neither of them moved.

  Silence wrapped around them like a thin veil, broken only by the soft whisper of the wind as it brushed through the tall grass. The branches above them swayed gently, scattering dappled sunlight over the ground.

  “What are you doing here?” they both blurted out at the same time.

  They froze.

  Another pocket of silence.

  Then, almost involuntarily, Liam let out a small chuckle, shaking his head.

  “You first,” he said as he stepped closer, his voice softer now.

  Yumio’s lips twitched. “No, you first.”

  Liam raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay.” He motioned to the grass beside her. “May I sit?”

  She hesitated—barely a second—before nodding.

  Liam lowered himself beside her with a deep exhale, as though he had just finished running. He looked around the hill, the view of the town below, and the tree looming above them.

  “How were you able to find this place?” he finally asked, curiosity evident in his tone.

  “I was just biking through town and… found this place,” Yumio lied quickly, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way her fingers tightened around her guitar.

  Liam nodded, though something in his eyes hinted he didn’t fully buy it.

  Yumio turned to him. There was something she had always wondered—something that tugged at her every time he appeared whenever she least expected him.

  “Do you have powers or something?” she asked bluntly.

  Liam blinked. “Huh?”

  “You always appear when I’m alone,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “Every time I need quiet, or I’m thinking, or I’m trying to be by myself… there you are.”

  For a split second, Liam looked startled. Then a laugh slipped out—warm, genuine, and a little embarrassed.

  “I’m grateful you think I’m that cool,” he said between laughs, “but unfortunately, I don’t have any powers. I can’t teleport or track people either.” He grinned. “Maybe it’s just coincidence that we always bump into each other.”

  “It’s already happened more than once or twice,” Yumio said, narrowing her eyes.

  “Then it must be fate,” Liam replied without missing a beat.

  Yumio blinked, surprised he said it so casually. “Must be…”

  A shy silence settled again, but this time it felt more comfortable—like the air warming between them.

  Liam studied her for a moment, then tilted his head. “Are you… homeschooled, by the way?”

  Yumio’s head whipped toward him. “How were you able to get that so fast?”

  Liam shrugged modestly. “Well, it’s a weekday. No holidays today. And you’re definitely not wearing a uniform.” His eyes dropped briefly to her sweater and jeans. “Plus… classes usually end around this time, and you’re already out here.”

  Yumio stared at him, impressed—and a little awestruck.

  “Wow…” she breathed. “Great observation!”

  Liam’s cheeks reddened just slightly. “Thank you,” he said with a small smile. “I tend to notice things. Especially things that stand out.”

  Yumio blinked again.

  Especially things that stand out?

  Did he mean… me?

  Her heart thudded unexpectedly.

  Liam looked away, pretending to busy himself with the grass, but Yumio caught the way his ears turned the faintest shade of pink.

  He might be a mystery, she thought as she hugged her guitar against her chest, but I think…

  I think I can actually be friends with him.

  Maybe even more.