Chapter 10: — "Scars of Yesterday (II)"

The sun had sunk lower now, the seaside fading into amber and lilac hues. The waves lapped softly against the shore, a steady rhythm that filled the quiet between two girls sitting side by side on the low wall.

Ayaka had barely moved. She hadn’t eaten a single bite of her ice cream since Sakura started speaking. Her heart felt heavy, like she was listening to a story no one should have gone through alone.

After a long pause, Ayaka asked carefully,
“Was it… just teasing? Or did they ever do worse?”

The question wasn’t blunt, it was soft, uncertain, as if Ayaka already regretted asking the moment the words left her mouth.
Sakura didn’t answer right away.

Her gaze drifted downward, following the slow melting of her ice cream dripping onto the concrete. Her shoulders trembled slightly.

“…Worse,” she finally whispered.

Ayaka’s breath caught, but before she could speak again,
Sakura’s mind had already begun to drift backward.

A bright spring afternoon, years ago.
Elementary school.

Sakura sat quietly at her desk, drawing in her little sketchbook, small hands clutching a dull pencil, trying to capture a cherry blossom tree outside the window. The classroom was noisy; laughter bounced from wall to wall.

She didn’t notice Haruto and his friends until one of them snatched the sketchbook from her desk.

“Hey, what’s this? You drawing cartoons again?” Yuto jeered, flipping through the pages.

“Stop! Give it back!” Sakura’s voice was small, desperate.

“Aw, look, she drew herself!” Ren cackled. “You think you’re cute or something, huh?”

Haruto stood beside them, arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging his lips.
“Don’t waste time with her,” he said. “She’s always daydreaming anyway.”

Sakura froze.
She had thought, maybe, just maybe, he’d tell them to stop.
But instead, he picked up a piece of chalk and scribbled something on the blackboard:

“Crybaby Artist.”

The room erupted in laughter.

Sakura’s face burned as tears welled up, her voice lost in the noise.
She reached for her book again, but Haruto tossed it out the window.

The page fluttered through the air, landing in a puddle outside.
Her hands shook as she watched, helpless, her drawing dissolve in muddy water.

The sound of waves brought her back.

Ayaka was still there, watching her with wide, horrified eyes. “Sakura… they really—”

Sakura nodded faintly, her voice small. “They laughed for the rest of the day. My teacher didn’t even notice. I… I stopped drawing for weeks after that.”

Ayaka gently placed her hand over Sakura’s, squeezing it. “You don’t have to tell me more if it’s too much.”

But Sakura shook her head. “No, I want to.”
Her voice trembled, but there was strength behind it, the kind that comes from years of holding everything in.

The sky dimmed further, painting the horizon in soft violet streaks. A couple of children ran by, their laughter echoing in the wind, a sound too innocent, too distant from what Sakura was remembering.

Ayaka hesitated, her voice quieter this time.
“…Was that the worst of it? Or did it… keep going?”

Sakura’s fingers tightened around her skirt, her eyes distant again.

“…There was one more time,” she murmured.

And just like that, the world around her blurred once more.

It had been raining that day, hard.
The schoolyard was nearly empty; puddles shimmered beneath the gray sky.
Sakura waited near the gates, holding her sketchbook close to her chest, a small umbrella trembling in her hand.

Her mother was late.

She could hear footsteps behind her before she even turned.
Ren. Yuto. Keigo.
And Haruto.

“Oh look,” Keigo sneered, “the little artist’s waiting for Mommy.”

Sakura said nothing. She just stared at the ground, hoping they’d walk past.

But then Haruto spoke, that same voice she used to like before it turned cruel.
“Still can’t fight back, huh?”

He reached out and yanked the umbrella from her hands.
The rain splashed instantly onto her hair and uniform.

“Haruto... please stop,” Sakura whispered, voice cracking.

He hesitated for half a second, so quick that no one noticed.
Then he tossed the umbrella onto the wet ground, letting the wind drag it across the puddles.

“Guess you’ll just have to walk home like that,” Yuto said with a snicker.

They left, laughing, fading into the sound of rain.
Sakura stood there for what felt like forever, shivering, soaked, clutching her sketchbook under her arm like it was the only thing keeping her together.

When she finally got home, she caught her reflection in the mirror.
Her hair was dripping. Her eyes were red.
And she whispered to herself, over and over:

“Don’t cry. Don’t let them win. Don’t cry.”

She blinked, and the seaside came rushing back.
The smell of salt. The sound of waves. The fading light of evening.

Her hand was trembling before she realized it.
Ayaka quickly pulled a napkin from her bag and handed it to her. “Hey, hey... it’s okay. You’re safe now.”

Sakura forced a small smile, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. “It’s stupid… I thought I was over it.”

“It’s not stupid,” Ayaka said softly. “You went through hell, Sakura.”

Sakura shook her head. “But the weird part is… I can’t even hate him anymore.”

Ayaka frowned. “After all that?”

“I tried,” Sakura whispered. “I tried to hate him every day. But when I saw him again, and he looked at me… he wasn’t the same boy. I could tell. The way he spoke, the way he looked at me, it was like he was the one who was sorry, even without saying it.”

Her voice grew quieter. “And when he defended me that day at lunch… something inside me changed. I didn’t want to forgive him, but… part of me already had.”

Ayaka didn’t interrupt this time. She just listened, eyes soft but heavy with emotion.

The waves crashed softly again, filling the silence that words couldn’t.

Sakura looked out toward the horizon, the sunset reflecting in her glassy eyes.
“Sometimes I wonder if he went through something, too. He looks… tired, you know? Like he’s carrying something heavier than what he shows.”

Ayaka hesitated before asking, “Do you… like him?”

Sakura blinked, startled. “W-What? No, of course not!”

Ayaka smirked faintly. “You’re blushing.”

“I’m not!” Sakura quickly turned away, hiding her face. “I just— I just don’t want him to get hurt again, okay?”

Her words came out sharper than she intended, but there was truth in them, raw and unguarded.

Ayaka chuckled softly. “Sure, sure. Whatever you say.”
But then her tone softened again.
“You really are something, Sakura. After everything he did, you still worry about him.”

Sakura looked down, voice barely a whisper.
“Maybe that’s because… I know what it’s like to be alone.”

The sun was gone now, replaced by the faint glow of street lamps.
They stood, brushing sand off their shoes as the breeze grew cooler.

Ayaka stretched, forcing a small smile. “You feel better?”

Sakura nodded slowly. “A little.”

“Good.” Ayaka gave her a light pat on the back. “Then we’ll save the rest of your tragic backstory for next week’s ice cream outing.”

Sakura laughed quietly, the sound fragile, but real.

As they started walking toward the station, Sakura glanced one last time at the sea, her heart both heavy and light at once.
The pain hadn’t disappeared, but somehow, it felt less lonely now.