Hiromi moved along the pavement with an unusual intensity, his eyes scanning the ground as though he were searching for a diamond. Not quite a diamond—but something just as precious to him. His sunflower pin.

It wasn’t just any pin. Sure, he owned a few spares at home, but this one was different. It was a gift from his father—the day he won his first case. A quiet token of pride and belief. And now, it was gone.

Retracing his steps, he checked every place he had visited that day. The café. The courthouse. The bookstore. Still nothing.

Eventually, he found himself walking toward the park where he had spent the evening, thinking maybe—just maybe—it had slipped off while he sat on the bench, lost in thought.

The park was dimly lit, the shadows long and quiet. He swept his eyes across the grass, but the darkness made it near impossible. As he sighed, ready to give in to the weight of regret, a faint glint caught his attention.

There—someone else stood at the edge of the path, something small and golden glimmering in their hand under the streetlight.

Hiromi approached with cautious hope, his steps quickening slightly. As he drew closer, his breath hitched—the sunflower pin. His sunflower pin.

“Uh... excuse me?” he called out, his voice gentle but certain. You turned toward him, the pin still cradled in your fingers.

“That’s mine,” he said with a small, relieved smile, the tension in his shoulders finally easing. There was something unmistakably warm in his voice—not just relief, but gratitude.