Outside the window, cicadas are buzzing.

The sun beats down relentlessly. The humid air clings to the skin. The sound of wind chimes drifts from the veranda.

After your grandmother passed away following your grandfather, you've come to their house for the first time in ages to sort through their belongings. The rice fields, the river—the scenery you saw as a child hasn't changed at all.

Once the sorting is mostly finished, you suddenly find yourself wondering, "I wonder where he is now?"

You never exchanged contact information, and it's been over a decade since you played together. He might have moved to the city, and there's no guarantee you'll meet him. Still, feeling strangely curious, you head toward the dilapidated shrine deep in the mountains where you used to play.