Why did I come here?
The day of the orphanage play had arrived.
I let out a sigh, staring up at the stage.
I hadn’t planned on coming. My feet had simply carried me here on their own, as though bewitched.
At least I wrapped my face tightly in a disguise. No one should notice me.
I had no intention of meeting the boy in the yellow raincoat. I swore I would only watch from a distance.
So I slipped into the very last row of the rickety old theater and quietly observed.
The play’s title was The Saved Tree.
A child’s clear narration echoed through the hall.
“One rainy day, deep in the forest, a lonely tree toppled to the ground with a thud. Then, a girl passing by stopped and spoke to it.”
As the narration ended, a little girl rushed to the stage, knelt by the fallen tree, and asked:
“Pupu, are you okay?”
The leaves covering “Pupu’s” face rustled. Though hidden by the mask, I recognized him instantly—the boy in the yellow raincoat, the one who had sent me a letter.
The narration resumed.
“When the girl called him ‘Pupu,’ the leaf became light and engraved itself in the girl’s heart. And so the wounded leaf and the girl became each other’s first friends.”
At that moment, children dressed as leaves sprouted from behind the great tree, fluttering like greenery in the wind.
There he was, Leaf Thirteen, hidden at the edge, his face veiled by foliage.
Why isn’t Pupu the lead? How ridiculous.
He stood tall, earnest even in the smallest of roles.
Though his part was meager—not even supporting, but background at best—he threw himself into it.
“I’m Leaf Thirteen! I’m alive and happy!”
His line stumbled awkwardly from his lips. No matter how charitably I judged, it was hardly good acting.
Still… you’re doing well.
To my eyes, it shone. He looked dazzling, as though my vision were clouded with rose-colored lenses.
Before long, the curtain fell.
The play was crude and uneven, but the children bowed with bright, proud faces. The audience answered with warm applause.
I’ve seen enough. That’s the end of it.
I turned and left, slipping out of the orphanage. Wrapped in my gray robe, I wandered into a quiet alley. That was when I heard footsteps trailing behind me.
I stopped, unhesitating.
“Who’s there?”
A crash.
A boy in a green leaf mask tumbled forward with a clumsy noise.
“Thank you… for coming.”
“Mm. Goodbye.”
I turned coldly, but he scrambled up and spoke again.
“Yes, I—I gave myself a name. I didn’t have one before, but I wanted to tell you—”
“I don’t care to know.”
Names were nothing. Calling each other by them meant little.
But this boy… he wasn’t like other people.
I could tell, even without looking into the eyes hidden beneath the mask.
He was blind. And he had no one in the world but me.
I already know my ending. I can’t afford to tie myself too deeply to someone like this.
A boy with no one to rely on would only suffer more once I disappeared.
I had sworn to do good, not to become special to anyone.
“Don’t say another word.”
I cut him off cleanly.
But even after that rejection, he didn’t falter.
“Well, then… There’s a playground nearby.”
“……”
“If you’d just come with me once…”
The faint gleam of purple eyes shone through the mask.
And in that moment, I realized—
I could never be entirely cold-hearted.
At least, not when it came to this child.
“I came here every day… It was always so sad.”
“I see.”
“But now, you came.”
He looked around the playground with wonder, though it was nothing special.
Rusty swings and seesaws. Broken toys left behind. A lone carousel, standing oddly out of place.
Yet his face glowed as though he had found the most magical place in the world.
“Pupu wants to live here forever!”
“…Pupu?”
“It’s a leaf’s name, but I thought it was cute, so I made it my nickname…”
He flailed his arms shyly. Such a tiny thing, hidden behind a leaf mask, calling himself “Pupu.”
“…Yes. It is kind of cute.”
“Really? Thank you!”
He puffed out his little chest proudly. Small, awkward, like a puppy wagging its tail. Somehow, that made him even cuter.
Cuteness really is invincible… it keeps drawing me in.
I shook my head sharply. No—I had to keep my senses.
“Have you seen enough? Let’s go back.”
“……”
Even without seeing his face, I could read the hesitation in his body. His shoulders slumped, reluctant. He wants to ride the carousel.
It wasn’t magic, just a shabby wheel that spun clumsily in circles. Normally, I would never have allowed it.
But how could I refuse the wish of a child who had never once seen an amusement park?
“…Get on.”
“Come with me!”
Once again, I found myself yielding to him.
“…Fine. Just for today.”
The small carousel creaked to life, turning in a slow circle beneath the glow of faint lights.
Only one lap.
“It’s so, so fun!”
“I’m glad.”
I glanced down at his reddened fingertips and spoke quietly.
“It’s late. Time to go.”
“……”
“Why? Don’t you want to go home?”
“That’s not it… It’s just, when you’re gone… I won’t see you anymore, will I?”
“…Yes.”
“Well… then, at least write to me. A letter would be enough.”
He bit his lip as he mumbled. Such a small, fragile voice.
I had seen this once before.
A child left alone after their whole family was gone.
Myself, in my past life.
So I steeled myself and spoke more harshly.
“If you can’t reach me, assume I’m dead. I can’t be your family.”
The boy’s head drooped.
“…Is that really okay?”
His voice trembled, on the edge of tears.
“…But you still came to the playground with me. You came to the daycare. You sent me gifts. You even cared for Leaf Thirteen, Pupu…”
“All of that—ends today.”
His small shoulders quivered. He looked no older than ten, yet carried the weight of abandonment on his back.
Then, he whispered:
“I… I’ll become a knight.”
“…A knight?”
“Yes. I read it in the spelling book. If you become a knight, you can protect the one most precious to you.”
To become a knight required noble blood, great strength, and years of training.
Ordinarily, I would have told him so.
But strangely, I couldn’t bring myself to crush that dream.
“…You can do it.”
“Yes! Then, if I succeed… I’ll protect you—”
“No.”
I cut him off, staring down at him firmly.
“Don’t make promises like that. One day, you’ll meet someone your own age. A girl you’ll treasure, who will treasure you. You’ll live together happily. That’s where your promise belongs.”
“……”
“So I won’t ask your name, and I won’t tell you mine. Even this face isn’t the real me. Forget everything. Forget me.”
The boy only looked up at me in silence.
Even at my sharp, cruel words—he smiled.
“…It doesn’t matter if it’s not your real face.”
“…What?”
I was the one caught off guard.
Then he spoke again, like a vow, like a spell.
“I’ll find out anyway.”
“……”
“I won’t promise I’ll try—because I know you wouldn’t like that. But… if we ever meet again, by chance…”
His voice was steady now, mature beyond his years.
“…Then I won’t miss you. Never.
