The sun climbed lazily over the hills, casting soft golden light across the fields that stretched beyond the old wood-fenced property. Birds chirped somewhere in the trees, and the scent of summer flowers drifted through the open window of the farmhouse. Morning in the countryside was slower, quieter—measured in rustling leaves and the hum of cicadas instead of school bells and subway trains.
Yumi stood by the side of the house, sleeves rolled up, washing a small pile of clothes in the shallow stone basin. The cool water splashed over her hands, her elbows damp from stray droplets. Her shoulder-length hair—dark brown with streaks of sun-bleached gold from too many afternoons outdoors—was tied in a lazy side braid that clung to her neck in the growing heat. She wore a pale blue tee faded from too many washes and soft cotton shorts, both slightly oversized for comfort.
Her sandals were kicked off nearby, feet bare on the warm paving stones. She scrubbed at a shirt rhythmically, brow slightly furrowed in thought—until a voice cut through the birdsong.
"Yumiii!" came the call from around the corner. "A letter! It's probably from Aka!!!!"
Yumi looked up, blinking as her younger sister came jogging up the path, holding a white envelope aloft like it was made of treasure. Her sister was eight, perpetually barefoot, and somehow already sticky with sweat despite it being barely past nine.
"Be careful!" Yumi called, rinsing her hands quickly. "Don't bend it!"
"I didn't!" the girl said proudly. "It was in the box just now. It says 'Hiroto Minami' though."
Yumi took the envelope, still dripping slightly from the washing. Her heart gave a small thump at the sight of unfamiliar handwriting on familiar stationery.
She thanked her sister, dried her hands on a towel draped over the rail, and carried the letter inside, feet tapping against the wooden hallway floor as she made her way to her room.
Her room was small, neatly kept, with paper butterflies hanging from the ceiling and a desk pressed up against the window. She sat on the edge of her futon and stared at the envelope for a second longer before carefully opening it.
And then she read.
She read it once. Then again. And once more, just to be sure.
By the third time, her ears felt hot.
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Dear Yumi,
I know this is going to sound weird, but I'm not Aka. I'm sorry. I think your letter got sent to the wrong address. My name is Hiroto Minami.
I almost threw your letter away, but I read it instead. I hope that's okay.
This is probably super awkward, and I get it if you just throw this away. But if you do read this… maybe write back? Even just to tell me to mind my own business. I won't be offended.
Hiroto
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Yumi buried her face in her hands, the letter still crinkling in her grip. 'Oh no. Oh no no no.' She had poured her thoughts into that letter—things she hadn't said out loud to anyone. And now some random boy had read it. Some Hiroto Minami who wasn't even Aka.
She wanted to melt into the floor. Or possibly punch a pillow. Or both.
But… he hadn't laughed at her. He hadn't made fun of her. He hadn't even ignored it.
He'd written back.
She let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding and reached slowly for her drawer, pulling out a fresh sheet of paper. Her pen hovered in the air for a moment, unsure, before touching the page.
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Dear Hiroto
I… um, wow. I can't believe you actually read that. I'm kind of mortified, but also… thank you for not just tossing it. You're right—it wasn't meant for you. I meant to send it to someone named Aka. But I'm glad you wrote back.
About the address… that's strange. I double-checked it before sending. Are you new to the area? Since you already read it. You can guess that I'm trying to reconcile with my friend. Anyway please don't mind me, I guess
Yumi
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She paused at the bottom of the page, tapping her pen lightly. Should she sign off with something cooler? No. That felt fake.
She folded the letter, slid it into a fresh envelope, and stared out the window for a moment.
The countryside air stirred the curtains gently. In the distance, a dog barked.
Strange, she thought.