Snow kept falling over Bontan Park.The swings moved back and forth on their own, creaking softly in the wind.Taro and Akira sat on the bench, facing each other but not saying a word. Their breaths fogged in the freezing air.
For a long while, it was just the sound of the wind and the faint hum of the town behind them.
Then—a scream tore through the quiet.
It came from the woods next to the park — high, sharp, and human.Both boys flinched.
"Ahhhh!" they yelled at the same time, half out of fear, half out of shock.
Then silence again.Just the wind.No footsteps. No voice. Nothing.
The park felt like it was holding its breath.
Akira looked at Taro. "Did you… hear that too?"
Taro swallowed. "Yeah."
They both stared at the trees. Nothing moved.
Akira gave a shaky laugh. "Must've been the wind. Or I'm losing it.""Maybe both," Taro said quietly.
A small silence passed again — the kind that felt like a weight on their chests.Akira's shoulders started to shake. He wiped his face with his sleeve, but the tears kept coming.
"Why…" he whispered. "Why does this happen, man? What did she do wrong? What did we do?"He sank down into the snow, hands gripping his hair. "Maybe I'm cursed. Maybe I'm the reason everything falls apart. I'm—"
"Stop."Taro knelt beside him. "You're not bad luck, Akira. You didn't do anything wrong."
Akira looked up at him, eyes red and wet.Taro pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it over.
"Here," he said softly.
Akira nodded, sniffed hard, and blew his nose — loudly, miserably — before holding it out again."Thanks," he muttered.
Taro stared at the damp handkerchief, face blank, then took it wordlessly and tossed it aside.Akira gave a small, awkward laugh through the tears. "Sorry."Taro sighed. "Don't worry about it."
For a moment, the sadness almost felt like it could be normal again.
Then they both froze.
A new sound — faint but clear — came from the woods.Chop.Then again.Chop.
It wasn't the rhythm of a branch breaking.It sounded like someone… cutting.
They looked at each other, the color draining from their faces.
Taro whispered, "What the hell is that?"
Neither moved.The wind carried the sound again — dull, slow, deliberate.
Taro stood up. "I'm gonna check.""Wait—" Akira started, but before he could finish—
"TARO!!"
A voice cut through the air — loud, panicked.
He turned.A girl was running toward him. Before he could react, she threw her arms around him, shaking, crying into his chest.
"Chinatsu?"
She nodded, her breath catching between sobs. "I can't— I can't believe she's gone, Taro…"
He held her back gently. "I know. I know… don't cry, okay? Just breathe. We're all still here."But she couldn't stop crying. Her shoulders trembled in his arms.
Behind her, Akira looked away, guilt twisting in his expression.
When Chinatsu finally pulled back, she wiped her tears roughly. Her eyes lingered on Akira — cold, distant.
He looked down. "I'm sorry."
Chinatsu's jaw clenched. "You should be."Taro stepped between them. "Enough. Not now."
They stood there, breathing hard, until another voice joined them.
Hikari approached slowly, scarf pulled up to her nose.Her voice was quiet, but heavy. "It feels… weird, doesn't it? Like it shouldn't have happened."
Taro nodded slightly. "Yeah."
She looked between them. "How… how did she even— why would she…?"Her voice cracked.
Akira muttered, "It's my fault."
Before he could finish, Taro slapped his shoulder — not hard, but sharp enough to stop him."Don't say that again," he said firmly. "You hear me? It's not your fault."
Akira blinked, startled. Taro's voice had never sounded that steady before.
"We can't just sit here," Taro added. "Let's go. We'll check her house."
No one argued.
The four of them walked out of the park.The snow fell harder now, wind slicing through their coats. The cold felt alive — biting, watching, whispering around them.
As they crossed the small bridge toward Kitahana District, nobody said a word.Only the snow made a sound — soft, endless.
Hikari rubbed her arms. "Is it just me, or is it getting colder?"
Taro checked his phone. "Minus two."She frowned. "That's… weird. It's never this cold here."
No one answered. The only thing that moved was their breath in the air.
When they reached Chiyo's street, flashing lights painted the snow again — red, blue, white.Police cars, an ambulance, a forensic van parked crookedly across the road.Officers were standing near the gate, trying to keep people back.
The crowd had thinned, but the scene was still alive with quiet chaos — muffled voices, radios crackling, a mother's sob echoing faintly from inside the house.
Chinatsu grabbed Taro's arm. "They're still investigating?"
Taro nodded slowly. His throat was dry. "Looks like it."
The sight hit them all at once — the house, the tape, the flashing lights reflecting off the snow.It didn't feel real.It didn't even feel like the same world they'd lived in yesterday.
Akira stepped forward, voice breaking. "That's her window…"
Taro put a hand on his shoulder. "Let's go home."
Akira hesitated, then nodded.
They turned away as the sirens wailed again.
Behind them, the wind carried the faint sound of chopping — once, twice — from the woods.
None of them heard it this time.