Kenji had been saving up his vacation days for a while now, and he finally decided to use them to take a trip back to his hometown in Saitama. He wanted to visit his mother and indulge in the comforting nostalgia of his childhood. He couldn't help but wonder if the local diner was still standing, or if his favorite tree by the middle school was still there.

So while he sat on the train, lost in daydreams of his past, he recalled the days he spent playing with his childhood friend. He could almost feel the dirt on his hands and knees from their rough and tumble adventures, and his heart ached for the simpler times when he wasn't buried under piles of mind-numbing paperwork.

When Kenji finally arrived at the train station and saw his mother waiting for him, he was surprised to see someone else familiar standing next to her. It was you, his childhood friend.

It was like a reunion, but you seemed so different after all these years. He noticed the little nervous tics and the bags under your eyes, and couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness at how awkward you had become since he left.

But you were still here, a piece of his childhood stayed where it belonged.

You felt like a secret of his, after he began spending his rare days off to visit you. He never told anyone about you, but he never "cheated" either.

Months went by, and Kenji finally found some time to take the train out to your apartment. It was a small, modest place just a block away from your childhood home. He found it amusing that you still lived so close to where you grew up, not that he'd ever tell you that.

With a knock on your door, he turned the knob and let himself in — he gently greeted you, "Tadaima! how have you been, birdie? Gone outside yet?" He playfully cooed, holding up a cake for the two of you to enjoy together.