On the way home, I sat snug in my car seat, safely buckled in the back of our little car. My plush Shiba Inu rested in my lap, and the gentle hum of the road made everything feel still and peaceful.
Mama turned around in her seat, her eyes crinkling with warmth.
"Did you have fun today, Hideki?"
I nodded quickly, my voice small but sure.
"Yui... friend. Hideki happy."
Papa glanced back at me through the mirror, a soft chuckle in his throat.
"You made a friend all by yourself, huh? I'm proud of you."
Mama reached back and gently ran her fingers through my hair.
"We're happy too, sweetheart. You were so kind, so brave today."
I hugged my plushie close, my chest full of something I couldn't name — a warm, floaty feeling that started in my belly and stretched all the way down to my toes. I didn't understand everything they said... but I felt it.
Outside, the sky turned soft shades of orange and pink. The car glided quietly down the narrow streets. I looked up and held my Shiba Inu a little tighter.
"Mama... Papa..." I said gently, and then the word I had been holding in my heart all day came out in a whisper.
"Arigatou."
Mama turned fully in her seat. Her smile trembled, and her eyes shone like little stars.
"Oh, Hideki..." she said softly, pressing her hand to her heart.
Papa slowed the car just a little. His voice was deep and calm.
"You're welcome, Hideki. Always."
In that moment, nothing else mattered — not the slide, not the crayons, not even the hug. Just Mama, Papa, and me, wrapped up in something quiet and big.
I didn't know the word for it yet.
But I knew the feeling.
This was family.
Warmth.
Safety.
Love.
All held inside that one simple word: Arigatou.
The city lights blinked on outside. The sun dipped lower. My eyelids started to feel heavy. Mama hummed something soft from the front seat. Papa's voice faded into a calm murmur.
I leaned my cheek against the soft belt pad, curled up with my plushie.
And slowly... I drifted off.
No dreams yet...
Just the sound of the park still playing in my chest.
Yui's hug.
My parents' voices.
And that little glowing word floating inside me like a lantern:
Arigatou.
The car kept moving... but I was somewhere else.
The park came back in my dream — only it looked different now.
It glowed.
The grass shimmered under my feet. Cherry blossoms floated slowly like snow, and the sky wasn't black or blue — it was violet, soft and dreamy.
And then I saw her.
Yui.
She stood beneath the biggest sakura tree, holding my plush Shiba Inu, waving at me with both hands.
"Hideki!" she called, her voice echoing like a song.
I ran to her. Or maybe I floated. My feet didn't feel heavy. I was like a balloon on a breeze.
We laughed.
We spun in circles beneath the falling petals. Crayons floated around us, drawing suns and cats and hearts in the sky. Juice boxes twirled like tiny moons.
We didn't need words.
Just smiles.
Just us.
Then, we both looked up.
High above, twinkling in the purple sky, one word glowed gently between the stars:
Tomodachi.
Friend.
And just like that... my heart filled again.
Not too big.
Not too small.
Just right.
It was only a dream...
But it felt real.
As real as her hand in mine.
As real as the joy in my chest.
And I didn't want to forget.
Light crept through the shoji screens of my room.
Soft and warm.
I blinked awake slowly. My blanket still hugged me. My Shiba Inu plush was right where it belonged — tucked under my chin.
The smell of miso soup drifted in.
Birds chirped outside.
The city stretched and yawned in the distance.
I was home.
From the next room, I heard Mama and Papa talking, their voices like sunlight through leaves.
Then it all came back.
The park.
The music.
The juice.
Yui.
Friend.
I held my plushie tighter, smiling into the blanket.
Mama peeked in with her morning smile.
"Good morning, Hideki," she whispered. "Did you sleep well?"
I nodded slowly, eyes still heavy.
"Yui... dream," I murmured.
She walked in and sat beside me, brushing the hair from my forehead.
"Maybe you'll see her again soon," she said softly.
I closed my eyes.
Maybe I would.
Maybe the dream wasn't the end.
Maybe it was just the beginning.
The scent of warm rice and grilled fish drifted into my room.
I toddled into the kitchen, still hugging my plushie. My hair was messy, my steps a little wobbly — but inside, I felt light.
Mama stood at the stove, humming along with the happy music from the little radio.
I didn't think.
I just danced.
A little spin.
A wobbly twirl.
My arms wide. My plushie bouncing along with me.
Mama turned mid-hum and gasped.
"Ah! Hideki's morning dance!"
She laughed and joined in, swaying side to side, twirling like me.
Then Papa peeked in, toothbrush in his mouth.
"Best concert ever," he grinned.
We all laughed.
And just like that, the new day began.
Not with chores.
Not with noise.
With joy.
"Papa... garden... Tama-chan."
I tugged his hand. He smiled, already knowing. He stood and took my hand gently in his.
We walked outside together.
The garden was warm. The stones still held the morning sun. And there, lying on the path, was Tama-chan.
She was stretched out, eyes half-closed, her tail flicking slowly like she was dreaming too.
"Tama-chaaaan..." I called.
She opened one eye. Yawned. Then — slowly, lazily — stood up and walked toward me.
"Tama-chan... tabete?"
She meowed. A soft, sleepy sound.
Papa said nothing, just smiled and went inside.
When he came back, he handed me something small.
Snacks. For Tama-chan.
He always kept them, just in case.
I crouched down and stretched out my hand.
"Tama-chaaaan... tabete."
She walked right up and nibbled from my fingers.
I looked up at Papa, glowing.
"Papa... look! Tama-chan... tabete."
He knelt beside me and smiled, rubbing my back.
The sun was warm.
Tama-chan purred.
And the world felt still.
I ran inside, still holding the snack wrapper.
"Mama! Tama-chan... Hideki feed!"
She turned from the sink, knelt down to my level, and smiled softly.
"You fed her?" she asked. "How did it make you feel?"
I hugged my plushie tight and nodded.
"Hideki... happy."
She brushed the hair from my face.
"That's wonderful, sweetheart."
I looked up again, my voice a whisper.
"Hideki want draw Tama-chan... and tell Yui."
Mama's smile grew. She placed a gentle hand on my shoulder.
"Then go draw her. And when you see Yui again... show her. Tell her all about how you fed Tama-chan."
I sat at the table, legs swinging. Crayons everywhere.
I picked a soft gray and started drawing Tama-chan — her sleepy eyes, her whiskers, her curled-up paws.
As I drew, something new happened.
I sang.
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't planned.
It just... came out.
"Neko... neko... Tama-chan...
Come to me...
Hideki happy...
Feeding her, she purr purr...
Petting her, she purr purr...
Yui... Yui... come and see...
How I feeding Tama-chan..."
Each line came with a color, each note like a brushstroke.
I drew Tama-chan beside me.
Me, offering a treat.
And beside us, space.
For Yui.
Because someday, I'd show her too.
Behind me, I didn't see them.
Mama and Papa stood in the hallway, peeking into my room through the crack in the door.
"Did he just... make up a song?" Mama whispered, her hand over her mouth.
Papa leaned closer. "He's singing about feeding Tama-chan..."
They didn't say more.
They just watched.
Me, crayon in hand, softly swaying as I sang.
Mama's eyes shone.
Papa stayed still, heart full.
They didn't need to speak.
Their silence said it all:
Wonder.
Pride.
Love.