The plan was simple, in theory.
The same park. The same tree where it had all begun, where an eight-year-old had asked a sad boy to play and received, without knowing the weight of it, the truest promise either of them would carry for over a decade. Kaito had arranged for the park's east section — usually a quiet, underused corner of the grounds — to be reserved for a single evening, a small concession the city park office had agreed to once Satsuki, predictably, had quietly facilitated the paperwork.
He'd planned it for a Friday evening, golden hour bleeding into dusk, the way the light had fallen the day Tsukasa's memory finally unlocked, full and clear, his face arriving in her mind like something that had been waiting patiently to be seen.
