invisible string

Little Mizuki was always crying.

It was his parents’ fault. They were the type to “go with the flow,” always encouraging Mizuki to express himself, reassuring him that it was okay to cry.

However, they never taught him how to stop.

Now Mizuki sits in the sandbox, crying because none of the other kids want to play with him. Maybe the tantrum is what keeps them away, but Mizuki can’t help it.

It’s like a light switch. once it’s on, it’s impossible to turn off.

Normally, Mizuki would cry himself to sleep, but the last time he fell asleep in the sandbox, he woke up with sand in his hair, mouth, and eyes. a mistake he didn’t plan on repeating.

The staff had also given up on him. When the tears start falling down Mizuki’s face, they pretend to be busy with the other kids.

It doesn’t help that Mizuki has noticed the way other kids’ parents whisper, urging their children to avoid him, all because of his clothes. Why shouldn’t a little boy wear cute clothes? To Mizuki, they’re soft, pretty, and make him feel happy, especially since his sister designed them just for him.

Mizuki wished he were in his sister’s room, surrounded by her beautiful fabrics, instead of sitting alone in the sandbox with tears in his eyes.

But now he sat there, wondering why he seemed to be the only one without any friends.

But sooner or later, Mizuki knew he’d have to stop crying, and that moment came as recess ended. All the other kids rushed back to the classroom, but he stayed behind, wiping his tears. Through his blurry gaze, he noticed a small figure walking towards him.

At first, he thought she might be new; he’d never seen her around before. But then he caught sight of her shiny yellow shoes and recognized her immediately.

Those yellow shoes were a familiar sight, often spotted at the edge of the playground or classroom.

Their owner would sit curled up, quietly drawing with chalk on the ground, hidden behind her own little world. All Mizuki ever really saw was that pair of bright shoes, standing out against the dusty playground as she made her chalk art in silence.

The yellow shoes girl looked at him with curious eyes. Her hands were dusted with chalk from her drawings just moments earlier, but now they hung motionless at her sides as she watched Mizuki continue to cry.

Without a second thought, the girl in the yellow shoes dropped her chalky hands to her sides. Struggling slightly she stepped into the sandbox and sat down beside Mizuki as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

She didn’t say a word, just sat there, her presence calm and easy, quietly offering him company.

They sat in silence for nearly thirty seconds, her eyes quietly studying him as he looked away. Then, at last, she broke the silence and spoke:

“You look pretty” she said, pointing at Mizuki with her chalk covered hands. Her gaze was fixed on his cute clothes now ruffled and covered in sand from all the crying.

“You think so?” he mumbled, his voice trembling as he glanced up at her.

The girl tilted her head, her brown hair short hair that bobbed as she nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah. You look like someone from those books .

“Eh?” Mizuki stared at the girl, her words echoing in his mind.

“Yeah! The ones with princesses!” she said, her grin wide and toothy. She wiped her hands on her dress, leaving streaks of white chalk on the already colorful fabric. “Are you one of those? A princess?

He shook his head quickly, the tips of his ears flushing pink.

He hadn't thought of himself that way before. He'd been told he was a boy so many times, like it was something he had to be, and whenever he wore the clothes he loved deeply, people would say he was wrong. And yet the idea didn't make him feel wrong at all.

For some reason, it felt almost safe. There was a softness to it, a way of thinking about himself that he didn't have to fight against.

“Then why are you sad?” she asked softly, placing her small, dirt-smudged hands on Mizuki’s cheeks, gently trying to catch his tears before they fell.

In retrospect, it was a unique way to meet someone. Now, though, Mizuki’s eyes stung a little from the dust and chalk on the girl’s hands, making him blink through the faint burn.

Both of them were taken to the nurse’s office, giggling and ignoring the exasperated nurse as she tried her best to clean the dust and chalk from Mizuki’s face without hurting him.

The nurse sighed as she worked, muttering about “rough play” and “messy hands,” but neither Mizuki nor the girl seemed to hear her. They were too busy laughing, sharing a quiet sense of mischief and a bond that felt like it had always been there.

Mizuki didn’t even realize he had stopped crying; he was too focused on trying to remember Ena’s name. When he asked her if she wanted to be his first friend, he was greeted with the most sincere, genuine smile.

Soon, their parents were called. Mizuki’s mom was the first to arrive, and when she saw the scene, her heart melted. She immediately pulled out her digital camera, snapping pictures of the two of them with a proud smile, unable to resist capturing the moment.

On the other hand, Ena’s parents didn’t show up. Instead, a teenage girl (clearly Ena’s babysitter) walked in, looking a bit unsure of what to do but offering a polite smile as she took in the situation. She didn’t seem quite as interested in the photos.

When the nurse finally finished cleaning Mizuki’s face, she gently nudged him toward his mother. “You can leave this girl alone now,” she said, her tone a mix of amusement and authority. But Mizuki instinctively pulled away from the woman, his small body resisting the push.

Without thinking, he rushed into Ena’s arms, and without hesitation, Ena welcomed him, wrapping her arms around him with a reassuring smile.

Mizuki didn’t fully understand the feeling, but he knew one thing.

He didn’t want to face another day without the girl in the yellow shoes by his side. His very first friend.

—

Mizuki was banned from the Shinonome’s house at 6 years old.

After that day in the sandbox, with Ena’s dusty hands and Mizuki’s teary eyes, the two became inseparable.

The duo rarely spent a moment apart, and with two kids as curious and full of excitement as Mizuki and Ena, their days were quickly filled with clumsy adventures and all sorts of playful mischief.

The Akiyama’s would just laugh at their silliness, finding the pair’s antics endlessly endearing. The Shinonome family, however, was far stricter. a formality and discipline that the easygoing Akiyama’s could hardly imagine handling.

When Mr. Shinonome returned home late from a gallery exhibition, expecting to find his pristine, orderly house, he was instead greeted by tiny, colorful handprints smeared across the walls. Paint splatters marked the hallway, and the once-perfect decor now bore the unmistakable signs of a wild afternoon. The duo received the reprimand of their lives, standing wide-eyed as Mr. Shinonome scolded them, their mischief finally catching up to them in a way they wouldn’t soon forget.

Mizuki might have been terrified if not for Ena. As Mr. Shinonome’s stern voice filled the room, their eyes met, and in that shared glance, something shifted. Fear melted into amusement, and before long, the scolding faded into the background, replaced by their stifled giggles. The sound was soft but defiant, two tiny laughs that spoke louder than any apology could.

Being banned from Ena’s house, however, was hardly a tragedy for the pair. Ena wasted no time integrating herself into the Akiyama household as though she’d always belonged there. Mizuki’s parents quickly became “Aunt” and “Uncle,” a habit Ena adopted with casual ease and one the Akiyamas didn’t mind in the slightest.

Her spot at the dinner table was as fixed as her mischievous grin, and the futon once reserved for occasional visits became a permanent fixture.

The Akiyamas never bothered putting it away; they all knew it was only a matter of days… if not hours before Ena would be back, her laughter filling their home as she settled in for another night by Mizuki’s side.

Birthdays come and go, marked by the same question every year: “Who do you want at your party?” The answer is always the same, without hesitation. “Ena. Just Ena.”

And every year, Ena is there, just as she always is. She arrives in her usual way, a brightly wrapped gift tucked under her arm and a slightly lopsided homemade cheesecake cradled carefully in her small hands. It’s a tradition now, almost predictable, but that’s exactly how Mizuki likes it.

There’s comfort in the familiarity, in the way Ena’s presence feels as steady and unchanging as the turning of the seasons.

For Mizuki, there’s no need to chase new friendships or expand his circle. Why would he? In his eyes, no one else could ever compare to Ena. No one could ever hope to match her warm, kind heart or the way her eyes light up with gentle understanding.

Ena isn’t just a friend to Mizuki, she’s the only one he needs. Year after year, gift after gift, cheesecake after cheesecake, it’s Ena by his side. And for Mizuki, that’s more than enough.

—

Mizuki and Ena spend their days lost in a world of make believe, and today, they are princesses. At least, that’s what they’ve decided.

In reality, they’re two kids on the school playground, weaving an elaborate story from their boundless imaginations. The climbing wall is their towering castle, and they’re prisoners of a fearsome, invisible monster.

The idea had come to Mizuki after showing Ena a cute outfit his sister had designed for him. He’d twirled once for her approval, and she’d clapped like he was a true royal. They hadn’t worked out the full plot yet, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was being together, spinning their own rules and adventures as they went.

Ena, bold and fearless, is perched proudly atop the climbing wall. “I don’t need a prince to save me,” she declares, her chin held high. She’s the type of princess who doesn’t wait around for rescue, she makes her own way to the top. Her grin is wide and full of mischief, as if daring the imaginary monster to take her on.

Mizuki, on the other hand, remains grounded, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “I’m fine being a peasant,” he jokes, though his voice wavers slightly. “Or maybe a loyal animal!”

But Ena catches the way his gaze flickers to the other kids nearby, the hesitation in his movements. Then the whispers start. Faint at first, but sharp enough to sting. Words like *“princess”* drift through the air, mocking and cutting.

Mizuki’s shoulders hunch, his fingers fidget with the hem of his outfit, and his eyes brim with tears he tries to blink away. Ena sees his fear of the climbing wall, his discomfort under their stares, and the growing uncertainty that threatens to steal his joy.

Without a moment’s pause, Ena slides down the wall, landing gracefully beside him. She dusts off her imaginary royal gown with a dramatic flair. “A princess can’t rule on her own,” she announces, her voice steady and sure, as though the words were a decree written in stone.

She kneels slightly to meet Mizuki’s gaze, gently tugging his hand away from the fabric he’s twisting nervously. “Come on,” she says, her tone soft but resolute. “You’ll be my princess, and I’ll be your prince this time.”

Her eyes shine with unwavering kindness as she holds out her hand. “We’ll conquer this tower together,” she promises. And slowly, Mizuki’s fingers find hers, his tears giving way to a small, shy smile as he nods. Together, they turn back to their castle, ready to face the world hand in hand.

“You pinky promise it?” Mizuki asked in a quiet voice, his eyes full of uncertainty.

Without missing a beat, Ena grins and extends her little finger, her eyes sparkling with conviction. "I promise!" she exclaims, sealing it with a firm pinky swear.

Minutes later, they find themselves on top of the climbing wall. Mizuki sits beside Ena, his legs trembling slightly as he grips her arm like it’s the only thing keeping him from falling. His hold is tight, almost desperate, but there’s a quiet trust in his eyes, an unspoken belief that she won’t let him down.

Ena can feel the way he leans into her, the way he still smiles, even with the fear tugging at him. There’s something in that smile, something about how he’s still so proud to be there beside her, that makes Ena’s stomach flutter in a way she can’t quite explain.

She glances at him, her heart unexpectedly racing, as his hand shifts to hold hers, fingers brushing gently. In that moment, there’s no need for words. Just the feeling of being together, of trust and quiet understanding, hanging between them.

Their fun doesn’t last long. It all takes a turn when Ena, in her usual boldness, decides to drag one of the kids who’d been making fun of Mizuki into their game. With a mischievous grin, she orders him to jump from the wall, claiming she was “fighting the monster who kept her princess captive.”

The poor kid, clearly not expecting to be part of their fantasy, jumps, but his landing goes horribly wrong. He tumbles to the side of the climbing wall, crashing with a sickening thud. it’s clear that he’s broken his arm.

Ena takes all the blame, it was a harmless game, a way to make Mizuki laugh, to break him free. But for the rest of the week Ena is grounded and has to sit in the corner of the classroom.

But Mizuki doesn’t leave her side. For the whole week, he sits next to her, quietly offering his support. Whenever the other kids whisper or stare, Mizuki just smiles at her, a silent promise that he’s not going anywhere. “That’s what friends are for,” he says with a small, reassuring grin, as if his presence is the most natural thing in the world. And for Ena, in that moment, it’s all she needs.

—

Mizuki quickly realized he didn’t like seeing Ena cry.

Though many labeled Mizuki as the classroom’s “crybaby,” he knew Ena was far from someone who cried easily.

Even when her dad forgot to pick her up from school and arrived four hours late, she didn’t shed a tear. When Mizuki accidentally spilled milk on her drawing, she neither cried nor got upset.

But now, things were different.

Tsukasa Tenma, the nosiest kid in the world, had taken Ena’s favorite brush a cherished birthday gift from Mizuki and accidentally snapped it in two while pretending to be a “knight.”

From that moment on, Tsukasa Tenma became Mizuki’s first sworn enemy.

Despite it all, Tsukasa Tenma was actually a good kid. He never misbehaved and always treated everyone with fairness and kindness. But now, Ena was crying, and he had no idea how to cheer her up. That was something only Mizuki knew how to do.

So, little Mizuki took matters into his own hands.

While the rest of the class was distracted, bustling to get ready for sports, Mizuki slipped away with a sly grin. Spotting Tsukasa’s spotless white star shoes, he carefully filled them to the brim with sticky, bright orange paint, ensuring his little act of revenge would be impossible to miss.

Mizuki wasn’t the type to stand alone and plot revenge, but this time felt different. Watching Ena cry, he realized he wanted to take care of her the same way she always took care of him.

It’s no shock when the entire class gets grounded, but Mizuki doesn’t mind in the slightest. Sure, some “innocent” classmates grumble about losing their playtime, but none of that matters to him. The pure joy on Ena’s face as she caught sight of Tsukasa’s bright orange feet made every second of mischief worth it.

On the way home, hand in hand as always, Ena suddenly stopped Mizuki, a shy smile creeping onto her face. Without warning, she stepped forward and pressed her lips gently to Mizuki’s cheek. “Thank you,” she murmured softly, her smile warm and sincere.

Even though Mizuki never claimed responsibility for the mischievous prank on Tsukasa, he couldn’t help but feel his entire face flush bright red. This time, though, there was something else—a fluttering sensation in his stomach that he couldn’t quite explain.

—

Mizuki is eight years old when he realizes Ena is his favorite person in the entire world.

Mizuki’s ban from the Shinonome household is finally lifted, and they’re granted permission to have a sleepover at Ena’s house on the strict condition that they stay far away from the walls.

The thought of his fear of darkness or how he would cope with being in complete darkness at someone else’s house didn’t even cross his mind. He was so excited that he even forgot about packing his favorite nightlight.

But Ena thought about it.

Two tiny pink nightlights, Mizuki’s favorite color, glowed faintly on either side of the room. One was tucked beneath his pillow for emergencies, and above him, Ena’s ceiling was covered in glowing stars that lit up the darkness like a gentle sky.

“I didn’t want you to be scared,” Ena says with a soft smile, brushing it off as if it were nothing. But the proud glint in her eyes betrays her as Mizuki throws himself into her arms in a gesture of pure gratitude.

A few days later, Mizuki feels a pang of guilt when he learns that Ena got scolded by her dad again for messing with the decoration of their “perfect house”. But Ena reassures him with a soft smile, saying, “I don’t like sleeping alone without you anyway, so now I have a part of you in my room.”

After that, Ena becomes his favorite person in the whole universe.

During dinner with the Shinonomes, Mizuki couldn’t help but notice how Ena’s dad barely paid attention to his daughter. He spoke as if the kids weren’t there, only acknowledging Ena to criticize her for being messy with her crafts and art.

Ena was, admittedly, very messy when she painted. Whether on paper or canvas, she always ended up with paint dripping across her face and smudged all over her body. It was a sight Mizuki had grown used to, and every time it happened, he would quietly pull out his handmade napkin specially designed for him by his sister and gently clean Ena up with tender care.

Before bed, Ena excitedly showed Mizuki a painting she had made of the two of them. The paint was still wet, and tiny splashes dotted her face. Without hesitation, Mizuki gently cupped her face in his hands, carefully wiping away the specks of paint as if it were second nature.

When he was done, Ena grinned and blew him a kiss. Mizuki chuckled, returning the gesture with a lighthearted smile. Moments later, they settled into bed, both drifting off with a sense of warmth and quiet contentment.

—

Valentine’s Day arrives, and Mizuki asks his sister to create a special outfit for him to wear to school. He puts just as much effort into a Valentine’s letter for Ena, decorating it with glitter and a chaotic mix of colors splattered across the page, mimicking one of Ena’s vibrant paintings.

But his heart sinks as he enters the classroom.

All the other kids’ tables are filled with chocolates and letters tucked neatly into the “mailboxes” next to their desks. Meanwhile, Mizuki’s mailbox is stuffed with empty chocolate wrappers and what he can only assume is trash.

Mizuki tries his best to ignore it, walking quickly to his desk, but as he passes the other kids, he can’t escape their pointed fingers and muffled laughter. He hears whispers and sees them glance at him, some of them stifling giggles while others openly stare at his outfit. His heart sinks deeper with every step.

When he finally reaches his desk, Ena flashes him her usual warm smile. She doesn’t seem to notice anything is wrong, but the moment their eyes meet, something shifts. Her smile falters as she sees the pain in his eyes.

Mizuki sits down, trembling, his hands gripping the edges of his desk as he looks around, his face flushed with embarrassment. He can feel their eyes on him, and the weight of their laughter presses on his chest. Ena notices how his outfit, which should’ve made him feel proud, seems to weigh him down instead. His head is bowed, and tears begin to well up in his eyes.

Before Ena can speak, before she can reach out to him, Mizuki stands up abruptly, his small frame shaking. Without a word, he rushes out of the classroom, his footsteps echoing through the hallways, leaving Ena frozen in shock.

Just as Mizuki bolts out of the classroom, before Ena can even follow him, the entire class erupts into laughter. The sound is sharp and unforgiving, echoing in her ears as she stands frozen, her heart racing.

Desperately, she looks around, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of what happened. That’s when she spots Mizuki’s empty mailbox, save for crumpled chocolate wrappers and what looks like discarded trash. Her gaze flickers to his desk, and there, amidst the chaos, she sees it: a letter with her name written carefully on the front.

Her heart sinks. It’s the letter Mizuki worked so hard on, the one filled with glitter and colors, now forgotten and overshadowed by the cruel laughter of the class.

Without thinking twice, Ena rushed out of the classroom, her heart pounding in her chest. Desperately, she scanned the hallway, her eyes searching for Mizuki. Then, just outside the restroom, she spotted him curled up on the floor, shaking uncontrollably, his small body trembling with silent sobs.

“Mizuki?” she called softly, her voice barely a whisper, unsure if he’d even hear her. She didn’t want to startle him or make the situation worse, but seeing him like this was unbearable.

Slowly, Mizuki looked up at her, his face red from crying, his hair a mess. The bow he had carefully worn around his neck was now nearly falling off, lopsided and crooked. His eyes were swollen and puffy, filled with hurt and embarrassment, and for a moment, he just stared at Ena, as if unsure whether to trust her or pull further away.

At the sight of Mizuki, Ena didn’t hesitate. She rushed toward him, wrapping her arms around him tighter than usual. As she held him, Mizuki broke down, crying uncontrollably into her arms. His small body trembled with each sob, and Ena held him even closer, trying to soothe him, letting him cry until he began to calm down.

Her heart ached seeing her dear friend, only nine years old, in so much pain. The sight of him hurting, vulnerable in her arms, filled her with a fierce protectiveness. In that moment, she made a silent promise to herself: She would never let anyone hurt him again.

It was just like when they first met, but this time, Mizuki wasn’t alone. He had someone by his side.

—

That day, Ena walked Mizuki home.

She knew her parents would likely be upset with her for coming home late, but nothing mattered more to her than Mizuki.

After finding him crying in the restroom hallway, Ena stayed by his side for the rest of the day, offering to walk home together. It was something they often did, but today, Ena felt an overwhelming need to make sure Mizuki was safe. She wanted to be certain that no one would pick on him again after what had happened earlier.

Mizuki barely spoke, his words few and far between, and his clothes were now wrinkled, but they still managed to look beautiful on him. As they neared his house, Ena suddenly stopped and gently let go of his hand.

Turning his head to face Ena, Mizuki was met with the sight of her eyes brimming with unshed tears, her fists clenched tightly, trembling with barely contained rage. Her voice was low but fierce as she spoke, “I won’t let anyone else hurt you.” The intensity of her words hit him like a storm, and for the first time that day, he saw just how far she was willing to go to protect him.

Mizuki’s heart skipped a beat as he stared at Ena, her face a mixture of determination and pain. He had never seen her like this before so fierce, so protective. It was as if the world itself could crumble around them, but she would stand her ground. Her hands trembled, not from fear, but from the sheer force of her resolve.

“I—” Mizuki began, his voice barely a whisper, but Ena interrupted, stepping closer.

“Don’t say anything,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I don’t care what anyone thinks, Mizuki. I care about you. And I will fight for you no matter what.”

Her words cut through the weight of the silence, and for a moment, Mizuki couldn’t breathe. He had always tried to carry the burden on his own, never letting anyone in, never asking for help. But here she was, offering her strength without hesitation, without question.

He opened his mouth again, unsure of what to say. For so long, he had been overlooked, picked on by other kids, but ever since Ena had entered his life, everything had changed. The world, once dull and colorless, was now vivid and full of life.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice trembling with raw emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Ena’s eyes softened, her anger giving way to a tenderness that left him breathless. “You’ll never have to find out,” she promised, her voice steady, unwavering.

Mizuki hoped that promise would last forever, that Ena’s words would be a shield he could always rely on.

But that didn’t happen.