Shun didn't talk much.
He didn't cry when he fell.
He didn't smile when he won.
People just called him the "quiet kid" and left it at that.
But then… Mika showed up.
She was new in town.
Wild, loud, and full of scraped knees and messy ponytails.
And for some reason—she picked him.
"Let's play!" she said the first time they met.
Shun just stared.
Said nothing.
But she didn't care.
She grabbed his hand and dragged him to the park anyway.
From that day on, she'd always find him.
Every afternoon.
Without fail.
Shun wore the same blank face every time.
No one noticed.
But inside?
His chest felt warm.
Because for the first time, someone wanted to be with him.
And slowly… something grew.
The way her eyes lit up when she laughed.
The way she never made him feel wrong for being quiet.
He didn't know the word for it back then.
But he knew—he loved her.
Not the kind of love that needed anything back.
He didn't expect her to feel the same.
He just… wanted to stay near her.
That was enough.
He never told her, of course.
Words were too heavy. Too awkward.
But he always showed up.
Because Mika made his silent world feel alive.
Until one day… she stopped coming.
No goodbye.
No explanation.
Just silence.
Her house? Empty.
Her laughter? Gone.
Shun didn't cry.
Didn't speak of it.
But that weekend, he sat alone at the park.
Staring at the swing she always used.
Holding a crumpled drawing she gave him.
Two stick figures.
One with a smile.
One with a blank face.
"I like playing with Shun," it said.
"He's nice, even if he's quiet."
He read it again.
Then folded it slowly.
She was gone.
And maybe… she was never his to begin with.
But she was everything.
And in the quiet,
he whispered the name he thought he'd never say again.
"…Mika."