Aryan was already moving before anyone said anything.
He stepped out of the empty lot and onto the main road, hands in his pockets, jaw tight, not looking back. Toviro and Ozair followed right behind him without a word.
The three of them walked together down the street, the afternoon sun warm on their shoulders, the neighborhood moving on as if nothing had changed.
A shopkeeper arranged boxes outside his store, stacking them one by one with slow, unhurried care.
Two kids kicked a dented can back and forth near an alley, laughing over nothing. An old man sat on a plastic chair outside his gate, eyes half-closed, as if the world had already passed him by and he had decided to let it.
Normal things.
Small things.
The kind of afternoon that had no idea what was sitting heavy between the three boys walking through it.
Ozair glanced around, then spoke. "So where do we even start looking?"
"Anywhere," Aryan said.
Ozair frowned. "That's not really a plan, Aryan."
"Then come up with one."
Ozair clicked his tongue and turned toward Toviro. "What do you think?"
Toviro didn't answer immediately. His eyes stayed forward, calm but distant, as if he was running through possibilities one by one.
"He wouldn't go somewhere crowded," Toviro said after a moment. "Not right now. He would want somewhere quiet, somewhere familiar."
Aryan slowed slightly.
"The court behind the school is locked this time of year," he said. "The empty lot we were just in…" He paused. "The riverbank."
Ozair nodded. "Yeah. That makes sense. He used to go there when he wanted to be alone. Remember that time in middle school when he disappeared for three hours?"
Aryan gave a small nod. "We found him sitting by the water."
Ozair let out a short breath. "He said he was thinking."
"For three hours."
"That's what he said."
For a brief moment something lighter passed between them, a faint echo of the past. Then it was gone.
Aryan turned slightly, his pace picking up. "Let's go."
They moved faster now.
The streets slowly began to thin out as they walked further from the crowded parts of the neighborhood.
The sounds of traffic softened. Houses became more spaced apart. The air itself felt quieter, as though the city was gradually stepping back to make room for something else.
Ozair exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting away. "You really think he'd go back there after everything?"
Aryan didn't answer.
Toviro did.
"Yes," he said calmly. "If something has changed inside him, he would still be drawn to places that mattered before. Memory doesn't disappear that easily."
Ozair looked at him. "You talk like you already figured him out."
Toviro shook his head slightly. "No. I'm saying I haven't."
They kept walking.
The sun had begun to lower in the sky, shifting toward orange. Shadows stretched longer across the ground, bending around their feet as they moved.
Aryan's eyes stayed forward the entire time. Focused. Sharp. Like he was already bracing for something he couldn't see yet.
The riverbank came into view slowly.
Tall grass moved with the wind, bending in soft waves. The sunlight spread across the water in long golden streaks, reflecting gently as the current moved beneath it.
It should have been peaceful.
It should have felt the same as it always did.
But it didn't.
Something about it felt off in a way that was hard to name.
Aryan slowed.
Ozair stepped beside him. "You see him?"
"Not yet," Aryan replied, his eyes still searching the distance.
Toviro's gaze moved carefully across the area, scanning every detail without rushing.
"Spread out a little," he said quietly. "But stay within sight."
Aryan gave a short nod, already shifting his focus ahead.
They began moving along the edge of the river, each of them watching, searching. The sound of wind through the grass filled the silence between them.
Not far from there, Elina walked quietly along the river's edge.
A small side bag rested against her hip, filled with vegetables she had just bought from the market. The bag shifted slightly with each step, brushing softly against her side.
But she barely noticed.
Her mind was somewhere else entirely.
Her thoughts drifted back to the morning. To that moment in Mayo's room. She could still see it so clearly, Mayo sitting on the edge of his bed, the window slightly open, the wind slipping inside and brushing gently through his hair.
She had spoken to him… but he hadn't answered.
Even now, hours later, that silence echoed inside her.
There was a strange feeling, she thought.
When I saw him… he felt different.
Her steps slowed.
Like he wasn't the Mayo I know.
The wind picked up slightly, lifting a few strands of her hair across her face.
Her thoughts shifted again. Toviro's voice from earlier replayed in her mind, careful and measured.
It's because of the shock. Trauma.
Elina's fingers tightened around the strap of her bag.
"No…" she whispered under her breath.
Something is telling me that it was not because of shock.
Her eyes lowered toward the path ahead.
I remember once… when Mayo, Aryan, and Ozair fought those boys from the other school.
Her voice trembled, even in her thoughts.
He was beaten more than the others. He could barely walk afterward… But he still looked at me. He still said something stupid, just to make me stop worrying before I even started.
He still talked to me.
He still laughed… even while he was hurt.
A faint, sad smile touched her lips. It faded quickly.
He never leaves me without a reply.
Her eyes lifted, staring ahead, but not really seeing anything.
I've known him since we were kids.But today… when I looked at him… It felt like I was looking at a stranger.
She did not hear the boys until they were already close.
Five older boys stumbled down the narrow path toward her, their laughter loud and uneven. Their movements were unsteady, their voices rough with the kind of confidence that came from numbers and nothing else.
The scent of alcohol drifted around them.
She kept her eyes down, moving to the side, hoping they would walk past.
But they didn't.
The tallest one stepped forward. A jagged scar cut across his cheek, and his eyes moved over her with slow, deliberate disrespect.
"Well, well," he sneered. "What do we have here?"
Elina froze.
A wave of cold fear rushed through her. She took a small step back.
"Can I help you with something, sir?"
The man chuckled. "Sure, you can. How about lending me some money?"
Her breath caught. "I… I do not have any."
He stepped closer. "Say that again. Louder. I didn't hear you."
"I don't have any money," she repeated, her voice shaking.
"Is that so?"
Her hands trembled.
The bag slipped from her grip.
Vegetables scattered across the grass. Her notebook fell open. And then the envelope landed beside it with a dull, heavy sound.
The man's eyes locked onto it immediately.
He crouched down slowly. "Oh? What is this?"
Elina's heart dropped. She reached for it quickly. "No! Please don't touch that. It's mine!"
"What is a girl like you doing carrying this much cash?"
"I have been saving for a long time," she said, her voice breaking. "It is for my mother's birthday. Please just leave me alone."
His smile twisted into something cruel. "Well, I guess I'm borrowing it then."
He reached out again.
"No!" She clutched the envelope tightly against her chest.
Behind him, another boy picked up her notebook and began flipping through the pages carelessly.
"Please!" she cried. "Don't take that. It is my poetry collection. I worked on it for a whole year!"
The boy tore a page without even looking at it. "Looks like trash to me."
Elina gasped, tears springing to her eyes. "Give it back. It is all my work!"
The leader grabbed her arm roughly. "Don't be difficult, girl."
His grip was hard, and she could not pull free no matter how she struggled.
Then she heard footsteps coming up the path.
Soft and steady.
Coming from the path ahead.
Everyone turned slightly.
He walked forward slowly, his hands at his sides, his expression completely empty. His eyes drifted forward without focus, without recognition, without anything that suggested he even noticed what was happening.
Elina's breath caught. For a moment she could not move.
"Mayo."
Relief, confusion, and something far deeper collided inside her all at once.
He was here.
He would help. He always helped.
But he didn't stop.
He didn't slow down.
He didn't even glance at her.
He simply kept walking, straight past them, as if none of it existed. As if she didn't exist.
Tears slipped down her cheeks.
"Mayo…" she whispered.
It was barely a sound. But it was there.
He did not react.
"Mayo…"
Nothing.
He did not flinch, nor did he turn. He simply kept walking forward, steady and unhurried, disappearing further down the path with every step.
Something inside her cracked open quietly.
Her eyes closed for a moment, tears spilling freely now, slipping down without restraint.
Her vision blurred, not just from tears, but from something deeper.
If I had a father…
The thought felt fragile, like it might break before it fully formed.
If I had a father… he would have protected me. Protected us.
Her fingers curled tighter around the envelope, trembling as the paper crumpled slightly in her grip.
Me and Mom…
Her breath faltered as the world around her blurred at the edges, fading into something distant and unimportant.
You would have been here… wouldn't you?
A sharp ache spread through her chest, deep and familiar, like something that had never truly healed.
You wouldn't have let it get this bad…
Her lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.
So why… Why did you leave us, Dad?
Her chest tightened painfully, each breath heavier than the last.
Why did you have to die…?
The wind drifted across the river.
The grass bent beneath it, then rose again, as if nothing had changed.
But Mayo kept walking forward.
Without stopping.
Without ever looking back.