Let's Play Again!

The ball went rolling, rolling across the park. "Wait, wait!" Kota chased after it — and a child he had never seen stopped it neatly with one foot. The child smiled a big smile. "Hello!" Kota froze. He was always the first to shout, "Let's play!" But today, the words would not come out.

Her name was Lily. She had just moved here from a country far away. "Let's play!" Lily bounced the ball to him. Kota couldn't understand her words — but a pass needs no words at all. Shoot! Laughter! Soccer is a wonder: even without words, you can play together.

When it was time to go home, Lily tried hard to tell him something. "…Tomorrow… here…?" Kota didn't understand. Lily's smile wilted, just a little. And Kota's chest went tight. Wanting to say something — and not being able to. He never knew it could ache like this.

That evening, Kota told Nene everything. Nene listened quietly, all the way to the end. "Maybe Lily feels like that every single day — doing her best in a place where her words don't reach." Kota's eyes went wide. "Nene — tomorrow I want to say 'let's play again'… in Lily's words!" Nene smiled. "It's okay. — Let's try!"

They practiced again and again. "Let's play again. Le-t's… play… a-gain…" Nene drew a picture in her sketchbook — a ball, and three children playing. "If the words fly away, show her this." That night, even under his blanket, Kota's mouth kept moving. Let's play… again. Could he really say it? His heart went thump, thump.

The next day, Lily was at the park. She stood alone, hugging the ball, looking just a little unsure. Kota's feet stopped. He had practiced so much — and now his head was empty and white. Nene's hand came softly to his back. "It's okay. — Let's try!"

Kota took one step forward. Lily looked up at him. In his pocket was Nene's drawing. In his chest were the practiced words. But both felt just a little scary. Say it out loud? Or show her the picture? — What will Kota do?