Kensuke and his friends spent every free moment outside. The fields were their kingdom, the hills their watchtower, and the town—though small—felt like the whole world. Life here was simple, predictable, like a song played on repeat. But Haruto, his best friend, was the one who made it all come alive. Haruto was fearless, bold, the one who always dared them to push further, to climb higher, to run faster. He was the one who refused to settle for the safe, the familiar. Where others saw boundaries, Haruto saw only challenges. He would pull them into the woods at dusk, race them across the fields under a blanket of stars, whisper about the mysteries beyond the hills, the stories of far-off places they could only dream of.

  He was the spark. The one who made everything seem possible.

  Together, they were invincible. The five of them—Kensuke, Haruto, and the others—spent their days chasing kites on the wind, barefoot and laughing as they ran through the wet rice paddies, their feet sinking into the soft earth. They built secret forts in the tall grass by the river, and when the heat of the afternoon sun was too much, they would lie on their backs in the shade of old trees, staring up at the sky, letting the hours slip by without a single worry. The world seemed endless then, full of wide-open spaces and adventures waiting to be had. The simple pleasures of childhood were enough—kites, laughter, the warmth of a summer breeze. Time felt like it was on their side, stretching out before them like a never-ending road.

  But then, that summer... everything changed.

  It was the summer of 1965 when everything changed.

  The sun hung heavy in the sky, casting long shadows across the town, where the world seemed to move at its own pace. Kensuke and his friends spent those days in the fields, running barefoot through the tall grass, laughing about nothing, and dreaming of a future far away from the small life they knew. They were inseparable—an unbreakable bond forged in the simplicity of childhood.

  But one afternoon, when the sky turned a deep shade of orange, their lives were irrevocably altered.

  It was the kind of day that felt like any other—hot, a bit sticky, with the smell of freshly cut grass in the air. Haruto was in the lead, as always, urging them on as they raced through the fields. They were chasing a kite, or maybe just the wind, but it didn’t matter. But there was something... different, in the way the light slanted through the trees, something that Kensuke couldn’t quite put his finger on. A feeling, faint but persistent, like the silence before a storm. But he brushed it off, too caught up in the thrill of the chase to think about it. They were free. For a moment, there was nothing but the joy of running, the sound of their laughter ringing out in the quiet of the countryside.

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  But then, Haruto was gone.

  Just like that.

  It didn’t happen with a bang or a dramatic scene. There were no cries or accusations. One moment, he was there, sitting on the old stone wall they always gathered around. The next, he was simply… missing. The others tried to reason it away. Maybe he went for a walk. Maybe he’d run off for some adventure, like he often did. But as the hours stretched on and the sun dipped behind the horizon, reality set in.

  Haruto wasn’t coming back.

  They searched for hours. The whole town seemed to join in, combing the fields, the woods, the riverbanks. They asked every person they met, every friend and neighbor, but no one had seen him. There was nothing. No trace. Just an empty spot where he had been.

  The police were called, but their search turned up nothing. No clues. No footprints. No explanations. It was as if Haruto had simply vanished into thin air.

  In the days that followed, the town tried to move on. The rice kept growing, the sun kept setting, and the seasons continued their march, as they always had. But for Kensuke and the others, nothing felt the same. The emptiness where Haruto had been was like a hole in the world, one that couldn’t be filled. No one spoke much about it after a while. The adults said little, as if afraid to say the wrong thing. The children were told to go back to their lives, to keep playing, as if it was all just a bad dream.

  But Kensuke couldn’t forget. How could he? There had been no farewell, no explanation. Haruto had just vanished. And no matter how hard he tried, there was always something in the back of his mind, something that felt... wrong.

  “He’s probably just left,” they said. “No one can vanish without a reason.”

  Years passed. The days turned into weeks, then months. And the mystery of Haruto’s disappearance faded into the background of their lives, buried under the weight of time. Kensuke, like everyone else, moved on. But the absence of his friend—a constant hole in the fabric of their world—never truly healed. The others tried to forget, tried to live their lives. But Kensuke held on to the memory of that last day, never quite able to shake the feeling that Haruto had been taken.

  It’s now the 1990s. Kensuke is a man hardened by years of quiet survival in a world that’s grown colder. The Japan he once knew is long gone. The streets, once filled with the sounds of laughter and life, are eerily silent now.

  The people, once free to speak their minds, wear smiles that never quite reach their eyes. A faceless regime known only as The Smile controls everything—the news, the airwaves, the very thoughts of the people. Japan's country side has been abandoned.

  Kensuke has long since learned to keep his head down. To survive. To stay quiet. And most importantly...

  To Smile.