Six months after Yuto was born, Emi gave birth to a baby girl. “Your son’s got a six-month head start on mine,” she said with a grin, cradling her newborn daughter in the hospital room while Sora laughed beside her.

Sora smiled, eyes soft as she looked at Yuto sleeping in his father’s arms. “Don’t be too sure. Look at the way she’s glaring already. Your Hina’s going to run circles around him.”

And she did.

By the time Hina could walk, she was already stealing Yuto’s toys, tugging him by the wrist wherever she wanted to go. “Come on, Yuyu!” she’d chirp with toddler authority, calling him by the nickname she’d invented before she could properly say his name.

Yuto would glance at his mother, unsure, but Sora would smile and nudge him forward. “Go on, sweetheart. She’s not going to wait.”

The two families practically raised their children under the same roof. Ren Kazama might have been the most feared name in the city, but around Yuto and Hina, he was softer. He remained stern and composed, but he spoke less and observed more, always watchful.

“You should let them figure things out themselves,” he’d say to Emi when she fussed over Hina’s scraped knees. “The world won’t go easy on them just because they were born into it.”

“And neither will I,” Emi would reply with a wink, pressing a kiss to Hina’s forehead before handing her another rice cracker. “But she gets a little love before the world teaches her anything else.”

Yuto and Hina were nearly inseparable. From play dates that lasted till nightfall to shared calligraphy lessons and weekend martial arts classes, the pair moved like they were halves of a single heartbeat.

At five, Hina declared herself queen of the sandbox at preschool and dubbed Yuto her personal guard.

“You stand here,” she said seriously, planting a plastic tiara on her head and poking his chest. “And don’t let anyone steal my castle.”

“But there’s no castle,” Yuto pointed out, blinking.

“There will be,” she grinned. “If you help me build it.”

He sighed, already gathering sand in his small palms. “Okay…”

Their mothers watched from the side, sipping coffee beneath the shaded pavilion.

“They’re going to be trouble when they grow up,” Emi said fondly.

Sora chuckled. “They already are.”

Sometimes after dinner at the Kazama estate, they’d all sit in the garden, the children sprawled across a blanket, the stars peeking out as fireflies danced in the summer air. Ren would light a cigar and Daiki would quietly stand by his side, arms crossed, listening more than speaking, just like his son.

“They’re lucky, growing up like this,” Ren said once, watching as Hina rested her head on Yuto’s shoulder, half-asleep.

Daiki nodded. “Let’s hope they grow up happily and looking out of each other .”

*****

“Technically, you should take care of me more,”Hina said one rainy morning as they sat beneath the covered walkway outside their elementary school, watching the droplets race down the windows.

“I already do,” Yuto replied, holding his umbrella a little higher over her head than his own.

Their friendship had only grown deeper since preschool. Now in third grade, they were still inseparable, sharing the same class, walking home together most days, and spending nearly every weekend at one another’s homes.

At school, Hina was always the first to raise her hand, the loudest in group work, and the most competitive during PE class. Yuto preferred to hang back, quiet and calm, but when it came to Hina, he was always first to move. When she forgot her homework, he quietly slid his notes across the table. When she got sleepy during class, she’d rest her head on his shoulder and murmur, “Just five minutes,” as he kept still and let her be.

Their lunches were always shared, and his mom packed extra fruit just in case Hina wanted more.

“Your grapes are better than mine,” she’d say every time, even though they tasted the same.

“You just like stealing mine.”

“I only steal from people I like,” she whispered, and Yuto’s ears turned pink.

On Saturdays, they attended karate class at the same dojo where Ren and Daiki had trained in their youth. It was serious training, with stern instructors and strict routines, but Hina made it fun, turning each session into a miniature adventure.

“Let’s pretend we’re bodyguards today,” she whispered one morning, tightening her white belt with exaggerated flair. “I’m protecting a secret diamond, and you’re my partner.”

Yuto gave a small nod, his expression unreadable, but he always played along.

Though Hina was bold in her attacks, she often lost focus. Yuto, precise and steady, was always the one to catch her. Once, during a particularly intense sparring round, she miscalculated and tripped backward. Without thinking, Yuto stepped in and caught her, arms wrapping tightly around her before she hit the mat.

She blinked up at him, cheeks flushed. “You always catch me.”

His voice was soft. “Always.”

Later that day, she proudly showed off her small bruise to Emi. “I fell during training, but Yuyu caught me,” she said, all wide eyes and a secret smile.

Emi glanced at Sora with a knowing smirk. “That boy’s already wrapped around her little finger.”

Sora chuckled. “He always has been.”

One afternoon, after class, they stayed behind at the Kazama estate to help pick flowers for Hina’s great grandmother’s tea ceremony. Kneeling in the garden, their hands brushed over the same blossom, and Hina paused.

“I hope you never go away,” she said suddenly, staring at the sakura petal in her palm.

Yuto looked up, startled. “Why would I?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like… this won’t last forever.”

He stared at her for a moment, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver ribbon bracelet. He’d gotten it from a festival game booth a few weeks ago. Clumsily, he tied it around her wrist.

“Even when I am not by your side,” he said simply. “Let this bracelet represent me and stay with you at all times.”

Hina looked at the string, then at him. “Okay. I’ll never take it off.”

Yuto was twelve when his world started to shift.

It began one quiet evening, the air heavy with early summer heat, when he passed by his parents’ study and heard his mother’s voice.

“I got in,” Sora said, her voice tinged with a kind of breathless wonder. “The academy in Paris. They’ve accepted me. It’s one of the top design schools in the world.”

There was a pause. Then Daiki’s low, grounded voice: “That’s far.”

“I know,” she replied, quieter now. “But it’s only for two years. Maybe three. Yuto can enroll in an international school while I study. It’s… it’s a chance I never thought I’d have again.”

Yuto stood frozen outside the doorway, heart thudding. He didn’t understand all of it, but he understood enough.

That night over dinner, his mother smiled gently, excitement simmering beneath her calm expression.

“We’ll be moving to Paris at the end of the school year,” she said. “Just for a while. I’ve been accepted into a design academy. It’s something I’ve dreamed about for a long time.”

Yuto nodded, but his appetite vanished. All he could think about was how to tell Hina.

The next day, after school, he found her in the Kazama garden where they always met, beneath the old cherry tree with the low-hanging branch she used to swing from. She was already there, still in her school uniform, tying her long hair up with a ribbon.

“You’re late,” she said, tossing him a mini can of peach soda.

He caught it. “Sorry.”

“You okay?” she asked, frowning at his quietness. “You look weird.”

Yuto sat beside her on the grass, the cool can untouched in his hand. For a moment, he couldn’t find the words. Then he simply said, “I’m moving.”

She turned to him. “Where?”

“Paris. At the end of term.”

Hina’s expression didn’t change for a beat. Then she let out a short laugh, like she hadn’t heard him properly. “Shut up. That’s not funny.”

“I’m serious,” he said, eyes dropping to the grass. “My mum’s going back to school. She got accepted into a design program. It’s really important to her.”

“Oh.”

Silence settled between them. Heavy. Hina picked at the hem of her sleeve, jaw clenched.

“For how long?”

“Two years. Maybe longer.”

Her eyes stayed on the ground. “So you’re just… leaving?”

Yuto flinched. “It’s not like I want to.”

She stood suddenly, brushing grass from her skirt. “Well. Good for your mum, I guess.”

“Hina…”

But she didn’t let him finish. “It’s fine. Go to Paris. I’ll be busy anyway.” Her voice was sharp, but her hands trembled. “I have karate, and school, and… other stuff. I won’t even notice.”

She turned away, but before she could take a step, Yuto grabbed her wrist gently, like he always did.

“I’ll call you,” he said softly. “Every week or every other day.”

Her voice cracked as she mumbled, “People always say that.”

“Then I won’t say it. I’ll just come back.”

Her lips parted slightly. She didn’t cry, but she didn’t speak either.

Instead, she looked down and whispered, “You better.”

*****

That evening, Sora visited the Kazama house to speak with Emi about the logistics of the move.

They sat together in the quiet sitting room, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. A tray of untouched tea sat between them, steam slowly rising as the weight of the upcoming departure settled into the silence.

“She’s been quiet since Yuto told her,” Emi said softly, cradling her cup. “She’s putting up a brave front, but I can see it. Her eyes… they’re different.”

Sora sighed, stirring her tea though she wasn’t drinking. “It’s hard. They’ve been together since they were babies. This move… I didn’t think it would hit her this hard.”

Emi gave her a look, gentle but firm. “You didn’t think? Or you tried not to?”

Sora smiled ruefully. “Both. I thought they’d be fine. That they’re still young, and there will be email and phone or video calls. But then I saw how Yuto looked after he told her. It broke something in him.”

“They’re twelve,” Emi said, setting down her cup. “But Hina’s heart has always been older than her years. She won’t say it, but that boy is everything to her. She doesn’t know life without him.”

Sora exhaled slowly. “Neither does he.”

There was a moment of shared understanding, the kind only mothers could exchange. Then Sora rose, picking up two fresh cups of barley tea from the tray.

“I’m going to check on her.”

Emi nodded. “She’s out on the porch. Hasn’t moved in an hour.”

Sora paused at the doorway, glancing back. “If it were up to him, Yuto wouldn’t go.”

“And if it were up to her,” Emi said softly, “he never would’ve had to.”

Outside, on the back porch of the Kazama estate, Hina sat curled up against the railing, knees drawn to her chest.

Sora stepped out quietly and handed her one of the cups. “Barley tea. Still warm.”

“Thanks Auntie Sora,” Hina murmured, not looking up.

Sora sat beside her, letting the silence settle gently before speaking. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’ve always been strong,” Sora said, smiling gently. “But you don’t have to be around me.”

Hina didn’t respond right away. She took a small sip of her tea, then whispered, “Is it really just two years?”

“It’s hard to say,” Sora admitted truthfully. “But I promise you, it’s not forever.”

Hina stared down at the koi pond, her fingers wrapped tightly around the ceramic cup. “He said he’d come back.”

Sora reached over and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, the way she used to when Hina was younger. “And he will. Yuto’s always kept his promises, hasn’t he?”

A soft nod. “I just… I don’t want him to forget everything. Us.”

Sora’s voice dropped, warm and unwavering. “He won’t. He may be my son, but I know who really owns his heart.”

At that, Hina finally met her gaze. Her lip trembled slightly, but she nodded.

“Okay.”

Sora leaned in and kissed the top of her head. “We’ll take good care of him until he comes home. And I’ll make sure he remembers every little thing about you, even the time you stole all his pudding cups.”

Hina laughed through her sniffles. “He still hasn’t forgiven me for that.”

“Exactly,” Sora said, smiling. “How could he forget?”

*****

Two weeks later, Yuto was boarding a plane to Paris. He stood beside his parents at the international airport departure gate, clutching the handle of his carry-on bag.

“You’ll be fine,” Sora whispered, her smile gentle but tight. “And we’ll be back before you know it.”

Daiki stood to the side, calm as always, but his hand rested firmly on Yuto’s shoulder, a quiet, grounding presence that said more than words ever could.

Emi and Ren had come to see them off too. Ren stood with arms crossed, his usual stoic expression in place, but his eyes lingered on Yuto longer than usual, and when they met, he gave a single, firm nod.

Emi, on the other hand, pulled Yuto into a soft hug the moment she saw him. “You take care of your mother, okay?” she said, smoothing down his hair. “Make sure she doesn’t live on instant ramen.”

Yuto managed a small laugh, but his eyes drifted past them, searching and hoping.

“She’s not coming, is she?” he asked quietly.

Emi’s expression softened. She reached out and gently touched his cheek. “She wanted to. But she’s trying very hard not to cry. And if she saw you now…” Emi’s voice lowered. “She’s afraid she won’t be able to let you go.”

Yuto’s chest ached, but he nodded. He understood. Hina had never been good at hiding her heart, and pretending she didn’t care would have hurt more than anything.

When the final call came over the speakers, Emi reached over and gave Sora’s hand a final squeeze. Nearby, Ren clasped Daiki in a rare brotherly hug, brief and firm.

Then Ren turned to Yuto. Their eyes met, and in that quiet space between them, Ren gave a subtle nod and said, “Do well.”

Yuto and his family walked toward the gate. The girl he hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to stayed with him, unspoken and heavy.

Hours later, once the plane was high above the clouds, Yuto reached into his backpack. He pulled out his book to read, but something else fell out.

A small, folded piece of paper. Faintly crinkled. He immediately recognized her handwriting.

With shaking fingers, he unfolded it.

"Come back stronger. I’ll be waiting. Don’t forget me."

Yuto stared at it for a long moment, then smiled, though a tight lump had formed in his throat. He read it once, twice, three times. Then carefully, he folded it again and slid it into the inner pocket of his jacket, pressing it against his chest.

The first time Yuto called Hina from Paris, it was late in the evening back in Tokyo.

He hesitated for a full five minutes before hitting the call button, heart thudding in his chest. What if she didn’t want to talk to him? But when the line connected and her familiar voice said, “Hello?” in a sleepy tone, all those worries melted away.

“Hina?” he said softly.

There was a pause. Then—“Yuyu?”

Yuto smiled instantly. No one else in the world called him that.

“Sorry I took a while to get in touch with you. We were getting used to the new living environment here” he murmured.

“I understand,” she huffed. “It’s not an easy one.”

“Anyway,” he said quickly. “I emailed. You didn’t reply much.”

“I didn’t know what to say.” Her voice grew quieter. “You left.”

“I know,” Yuto said, guilt tightening his chest. “But I’m still here. I still think about you. Every day.”

The silence on the other end turned softer, warmer. Then she said, “Do you want to hear about junior high?”

“Yeah. I do.”

She told him everything. How she joined the archery club because she liked the uniforms, how she almost got detention for kicking a boy who teased her height, and how their dojo instructor still scolded her for sloppy footwork. Yuto listened to every word, imagining her expressions, her quick temper, her laugh.

They began to talk more, sometimes through short emails, sometimes through long video calls.

But time, as it does, moved faster than they realized. By the end of Yuto’s second year in Paris, he finally told her something he’d been dreading.

“Hey,” he said during one of their late-night calls, the screen flickering with dim lamp light behind him. “I need to tell you something.”

Hina immediately sat up straighter. “What is it?”

“Mum got a job offer here. A really good one. So… we’re staying longer. Maybe for a few more years.”

“Oh.”

He watched her expression shift through the screen, bright eyes dimming just slightly, smile faltering but quickly recovering. “That’s great. For Auntie Sora. I mean. That’s… great.”

“Hina—”

“It’s fine,” she said too quickly. “Really.”

But Emi noticed. Later that night, she found Hina curled up in bed, her phone beside her, eyes unusually quiet.

“Yuto told you?” Emi asked gently.

Hina nodded. “He’s staying longer.”

“You miss him,” Emi said. Hina didn’t reply.

After a moment, Emi smiled and brushed her daughter’s hair back. “I miss Sora too. How about we go visit them during the summer break?”

Hina blinked. “Really?”

“Why not? I could use a little Paris in my life. And I think you could use your best friend back, if only for a while.”

*****

Later that night, as Hina slept, Emi picked up her phone and dialed a familiar number. It was almost midnight in Tokyo, but she knew Sora would still be up.

“Emi,” Sora answered, her voice bright even through the sleepy fuzz of the international call. “Is everything okay?”

Emi smiled softly. “Everything’s fine. But Hina… she looked heartbroken tonight.”

There was a pause on the other end before Sora sighed. “Yuto told her, didn’t he?”

“Yes. About staying longer in Paris.” Emi leaned back against her headboard. “She took it better than I expected. No tears. No tantrums. Just that quiet sort of sadness… the kind that lingers.”

“She’s always been like that,” Sora said gently. “Fiery on the outside, soft as mochi on the inside. I worry about them.”

“They care about each other more than they understand,” Emi murmured. “Hina would never admit it, but Yuto’s been in her heart since they could walk. And now with all this distance…”

“I know,” Sora said. “It’s hard on Yuto too. He pretends he’s adjusting just fine, but whenever he gets off the phone with her, he stares at nothing for a while. It’s like he’s caught between two worlds.”

“Then maybe it’s time we bring those worlds a little closer.” Emi’s tone lightened. “I’ve been thinking… I haven’t had a good vacation in years. And I miss my best friend terribly.”

Sora laughed. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I’m booking us tickets tomorrow,” Emi said decisively. “I’ll bring Hina over during the summer break. Let the kids sort themselves out a little. And we can have tea in Montmartre like two retired queens.”

“You’re serious?” Sora asked, clearly surprised but pleased.

“As serious as your son’s silent brooding,” Emi chuckled. “And don’t pretend you haven’t missed me too.”

Sora let out a soft laugh. “I always do. Hurry up and come. Yuto will be so happy—and honestly, so will I.”

“You’ll owe me cake and coffee every day,” Emi added playfully. “And I want to see the dress designs you’ve been hiding from the world.”

“Deal.”

They ended the call without another word. Neither of them said it aloud, but both were hoping a reunion might help their children find their way back to each other.

*****

They arrived in Paris in early July, the air warm and golden with late afternoon sun.

Yuto was waiting at the airport with his parents. He had grown taller, his jaw more defined, his expression steady as he watched the arrivals.

She froze when she saw him. For a moment, she just stood there, clutching the strap of her backpack.

Yuto noticed her instantly. His gaze swept over her once, lingering on the silver ribbon bracelet still tied neatly around her wrist. He smiled.

“You still wear it,” he said.

“I said I wouldn’t take it off,” she mumbled, suddenly too shy to meet his eyes.

They didn’t hug. They didn’t say much at first. Their reunion was filled with awkward smiles and too many glances, like they were meeting for the first time all over again. Yuto, naturally quiet, didn’t press. And Hina, for once in her life, didn’t fill the silence with chatter.

But slowly, over the days that followed, the space between them began to shrink.

At the Louvre, Hina stood too long in front of a marble statue, until Yuto came and whispered, “Don’t stare too hard, he’s not as good-looking as me.”

She elbowed him. “You wish.” But her cheeks were pink.

At a small café, they sat side by side, sharing pastries. When cream smudged the corner of her lip, Yuto reached out with a napkin and wiped it away gently.

“You still eat like a kid,” he teased.

“And you still act like my grandpa,” she shot back.

They laughed.

On the final night, they took a walk along the Seine, city lights reflected in the slow-moving water.

“You’re different,” she said softly.

“So are you,” Yuto replied. “But you’re still… Hina.”

She smiled. “And you’re still my Yuyu.”

They stopped walking. She turned to him, and he looked down at her, taller now, eyes steady.

“I’m glad I came,” she whispered. “It was starting to feel like I imagined you.”

“I’m real,” he said. “I never stopped being real.”

And before they parted, at the airport, as the announcement for boarding echoed in the background, Hina hugged him for the first time in two years.

“Take care of yourself, Yuyu,” she whispered into his chest. “I’ll be waiting again.”

Yuto closed his eyes, holding her just a little longer.

“I’ll come back,” he said. “To you.”