Chapter- 0.5 Childhood Shadows

Haru

I had always been a little lost in my own world, building castles of imagination in the corner of the classroom or chasing fantastical adventures during breaks. Grade three wasn’t just about multiplication tables and reading aloud. It was about the tiny dramas, the whispered jokes, and the friends who made even the most boring lessons bearable.

"Hey, ruru! Bet you can’t finish this hopscotch in under ten jumps" my best friend Lily called to me, grinning from ear to ear.

I rolled my eyes, already bouncing with excitement "Watch me! "

I jump over each square carefully, treating the ground as lava in my imagination yet again.

The sun was bright and warm that morning, making the chalked squares on the playground glow. My friends and I laughed, stumbled, and sometimes fell flat on the dusty ground. I didn’t care — I was in my world, chasing the thrill of winning, teasing, and running around.

I didn’t notice it then. Not really. A shadow, perhaps, at the edge of my vision- a quiet figure sitting under the tree playing with a stick on ground, eyes occasionally flicking up to the playground. I thought it was just another kid, always alone, always quiet. That’s all he was… until he wasn’t.

Even during games, little moments teased fate. A ball rolled near the tree, and his hand was there before I even realized. I picked it up, shrugged and tossed it back to my friends without thinking.

A small nod, almost unnoticeable, acknowledged it and then he went back to his doodling. That tiny gesture felt… strange like it mattered but I couldn’t tell why.

[After a few minutes]

Back in the classroom, during reading time, my friends whispered secrets about who liked who, who was being silly and who had done something hilarious at lunch. I laughed along with scribbled little doodles in my notebook, and tried to remember every detail.

Even then, I was aware of patterns- who remembered what, who was consistent, who disappeared in the middle of a joke. But him? He didn’t fit into any pattern I knew. Invisible. Always watching.

By the time the bell rang and we spilled into the playground again, my imagination had shifted. What if the ball rolling incident wasn’t just luck?

What if someone out there noticed me? Shaking my head, I giggled at the thought- ridiculous, obviously.

Little did I know, the quiet boy under the tree had already cataloged my laugh, the way I kicked the ball, how I got flustered when my friends teased me.

Every small action mattered to him, though to me, he remained a shadow- invisible, mysterious, and irrelevant to my daily chaos.

And yet in some small intangible way, those early moments whispered that our worlds would eventually collide.

Little did I know, the school year had more surprises in store — not that I cared much about the "school" part. The playground, the classrooms and even the dusty corridor were stages for my imagination. One day, during art class I decided to turn a simple sheet of paper into a whole jungle. Trees, monkeys, and a river everything sprawled across the page. My friends crowded around, squealing over every little detail.

"Hey, you missed a monkey over here!" someone giggled.

"I know! He’s hiding!" I whispered dramatically, pointing at a tiny scribble near the corner of the paper. The room erupted in laughter, and I couldn’t stop grinning. There was something magical about creating my little worlds and watching my friends get lost in them too.

My friends and I had our own codes: secret handshakes, whispered nicknames, and an unspoken agreement that no one outside our little circle could understand our world.

Even in the classroom, life was full of small adventures. I would pretend my pencil was a wand, drawing invisible patterns in the air while waiting for the teacher to turn around. Sometimes, I’d get scolded, but it didn’t matter — the thrill of being in my own little world was worth it.

There were quiet moments too, though I didn’t think much about them then. Sitting by the window, watching the clouds drift, doodling little cartoons in the margins of my notebook. Those were the moments when I felt like myself, completely absorbed in my imagination.

I had friends, of course, and they were loud, silly, and endlessly entertaining. We plotted little pranks on the teachers- harmless ones, like hiding chalk or swapping our seats.

One time, we replaced the chalk with a stick of soap, and the teacher spent a whole class trying to write on the board before realizing. We controlled our laughter so hard, tears filling our eyes as we tried not to get caught.

Walking home, my friends and I talked about everything- cartoons, favorite snacks, who could jump the farthest, and which teacher will forget to check our homework again. Life was simple, chaotic, and endlessly fascinating.

Those years shaped me, not the lessons in the textbooks but the friendships, the games, the small victories and the countless moments of embarrassment and laughter. I didn’t know it yet, but all those tiny experiences were quietly preparing me for the complicated, messy, and beautiful emotions I would face later.

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