Chapter 5 : Friend

Today, I turn two years old.

The morning begins with sunlight spilling through the windows and the scent of sweet rice cakes waiting in the kitchen. But the real gift comes later — when Papa takes my hand, and Mama wraps my scarf snugly, and the three of us head to the nearby park beneath a sky full of drifting sakura petals.

The air smells like grass and spring and something I don't have a word for yet — but I know it feels like happiness.

My plush shiba inu is tucked safely under my arm as we walk through the gates of the playground. And then I see it.

The slide.

It towers over me like a mountain, bright red and shiny in the sunlight. My heart skips.

"Sliiide!" I chirp, tugging at Papa's hand.

He laughs and leads me to the ladder. Step by careful step, he helps guide my little feet, until finally, I'm sitting at the very top — legs forward, hands gripping the sides, wind on my face.

Mama kneels at the bottom with her phone, smiling.

"One, two, three—"

Whoooooosh!

I rocket down with a squeal, eyes wide, mouth open in a wild laugh.

"WaaaAAAHHHhh!"

At the bottom, Mama catches me in her arms, hugging me tightly. I giggle, already pointing back toward the ladder.

"Again!"

We spend the morning like that — climbing, sliding, laughing — until the breeze picks up and something new floats into the air.

Music.

A soft strumming sound, strange but beautiful. I turn my head and see him: a street performer on the edge of the park, seated on a little cushion, playing a shamisen. The notes drift slowly at first, then quicker, dancing through the air like petals in the wind.

I stop. My ears listen. My body... responds.

First a bounce.

Then a wiggle.

Then a full-on dance.

I spin in place, stomping little feet in the grass, clapping to the beat, my plush shiba inu flying wildly in my hand. The rhythm is inside me now — it's not something I think about. I just feel it.

People nearby laugh warmly. The shamisen player smiles, still playing.

Papa claps along.

Mama cheers.

"Go Hideki!"

"Look at those moves!"

And for a moment, I feel like the whole park is dancing with me.

Then I see her.

A little girl sitting nearby in the grass, just about my age. She has soft round cheeks and a tiny ponytail that bounces when she moves. She's hugging a stuffed bunny to her chest, watching me with big curious eyes.

I stop dancing.

I look down at my shiba inu — my best friend — and then back at her.

Then I walk over, slow and quiet. I hold out my toy with both hands, gently. I don't say a word. I don't need to.

My smile says:

"Do you want to play?"

She blinks, surprised... then smiles back, shy and sweet. Her hands reach forward, and she takes the plush gently, holding it like it's the most important thing in the world.

She wriggles her bunny's ear as she dances.

I clap my hands in rhythm.

She giggles.

I laugh.

We play.

No words. No plan. Just a quiet understanding — a new connection born in the park, beneath the cherry blossoms, on the day I turned two.

From behind us, I hear Mama's voice whisper to Papa:

"Did you see that? He shared all on his own."

I don't hear their tears, but I can feel their joy.

And as I sit in the grass with my new friend, clapping to the beat of springtime, I realize something:

Music brings people together.

Even tiny people like us.

With my plush shiba inu safely in her hands, I suddenly bolt — my feet thudding across the soft grass, arms flailing, breath bubbling up as laughter.

I glance back, giggling—

She's chasing me. Her ponytail bounces behind her, and she's holding my plush like it's treasure.

I run faster.

She squeals.

My heart races.

It's our first game of tag.

Papa's voice carries from the bench. "He's so fast now."

Mama laughs through a sniffle. "He's not a baby anymore..."

I keep running until my legs feel like jelly. I flop down in the grass with a happy sigh just as she catches up. She plops down beside me, breathing hard, and gently sets the plush shiba inu back in my lap.

We both laugh — full and free — like the sky above is listening.

And as the cherry blossoms dance on the breeze, I know it:

This is what joy feels like.

Running, laughing, sharing.

A new friend, a game, a heart wide open.

With my plush shiba inu still tucked under my arm, I turn to the little girl beside me and gently tug her sleeve. She looks up, curious.

I point toward the cherry blossom tree where Mama and Papa sit.

Their faces are warm and watching. Waiting.

"Mama... Papa..." I say softly, smiling as I gesture.

She hesitates — just for a breath.

Then she nods.

And together, we walk.

Side by side.

Through the grass and falling petals.

Her tiny hand brushes mine. I don't pull away.

We stop in front of them. I look up — heart full — and say proudly:

"Friend!"

Mama kneels down, her eyes shining. "Oh! Hello," she says gently to the girl.

Papa smiles and gives a little bow. "Good job, Hideki. You made a new friend."

The girl giggles, hiding just a little behind me. I feel her small hand grip the back of my shirt.

But her eyes are bright. Happy. Brave.

And in that moment, I feel it — something bigger than a slide or a dance or even a hug.

I reached out.

She reached back.

And between us, something new was born.

Not just play.

But friendship.

I stand proudly in front of Mama and Papa, my new friend beside me.

She's quiet, peeking up at Mama, then glancing at me — like she's waiting for something I haven't said yet.

I tilt my head.

My heart feels light, curious.

Then I look at her, and the words come out slowly, soft and clumsy — but real:

"Where... your Mama? Papa?"

She blinks, then turns around.

Her little finger points across the park, to a bench beneath a blooming sakura tree.

I follow her gaze.

There — a woman and a man sit side by side, smiling gently. When they see her point, they wave.

She waves back, bouncing with joy.

I wave too — not just my hand, but my whole arm.

Papa chuckles behind me.

"He's making connections already," he says, pride slipping into his voice like a quiet drumbeat.

I glance back at the girl. She's still smiling.

Her Mama and Papa stand up.

They begin walking toward us — slowly, kindly — not strangers anymore, not really.

And in that moment, I feel something bloom inside me, soft and warm like the sakura petals swirling around our feet.

I don't know many words yet.

But I know this feeling.

This... is the beginning of something good.

Something shared.

Something sung by more than just one heart.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***