The group set off toward the summit, their footsteps crunching softly on the dirt path.
Though more a hill than a mountain, the trail climbed steadily through thick forest, sunlight filtering through the canopy in fleeting, dappled gold.
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They walked in single file along the narrow trail. Sally led with confident strides, followed by Jill and Naosa, then Miguel, Kazu, Kevin, and finally Alex at the rear.
The women chatted easily, their voices blending with the songs of unseen birds.
The men, meanwhile, grew quieter with every step.
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“Let’s take a short break,” Sally called, pointing toward a small clearing.
The group gathered gratefully—some sitting on fallen logs, others stretching tired limbs.
Naosa glanced at Kazu, concern flickering in her eyes, but he seemed fine—flushed, sweating, but determined. Kevin, however, looked like he was fighting for breath.
Naosa turned to Sally. “Are you sure this is the beginner’s course?”
Sally smirked. “You just need more exercise. This is basically a walk.”
Her gaze swept over the group. “Don’t worry—the trail’s easy to follow. If you get tired, rest or turn back. We’ll meet at the finish. Just don’t wander off alone.”
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As they hiked, the gap between the women and the others widened.
Kevin panted, “Sorry I’m slowing you down.”
Miguel waved it off. “Relax. Just enjoy the walk.”
“This pace suits me,” Alex said, catching his breath. “Perfect for a smoker.”
Miguel turned to Kazu, who was holding up surprisingly well. “You good?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Kazu grinned, though effort tightened his voice.
“If it gets rough, let me carry your bag,” Alex offered, reaching for the boy’s pack—only to find it nearly weightless.
“It’s okay. I don’t have much. Nao’s carrying everything heavy,” Kazu said cheerfully.
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During breaks, conversation flowed more easily.
Kazu’s stories always seemed to circle back to Naosa, each one painting her in the soft colors of memory.
“One time when I was little,” he began, “a friend teased me for not having parents. I cried a lot. But Nao told me, ‘Some people blame others for things that aren’t their fault. That’s because they’re weak—they want to feel strong by hurting someone else. Everyone’s weak, so you have to be strong. And remember, you have me. I can be anything to you—a sister, a teacher, a best friend. Anything but a parent. I’m your biggest ally.’”
He smiled, the light catching in his eyes. “It’s true, you know. I also have two other aunts—Nao’s cousin Lu and her girlfriend. Grandpa says they spoil me. I’m their dress-up doll. But I know I’m loved, so I’m not sad.”
Miguel was struck by Kazu’s simple, unguarded way of speaking—and his total lack of prejudice.
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“I get that,” Alex said, unexpectedly light. “I’ve got three siblings. They used to dress me up too.”
Kazu laughed, then grew serious. “But I’m worried about Nao. She cried every day after Corey dumped her. Grandpa says she has a raccoon face—he means she looks a bit slow and not very popular. I wonder if I’ll have to take care of her forever.”
The men exchanged looks.
“Seriously? You think she’s not popular?”
Kazu shrugged. “I don’t know. All my friends like her. She’s so kind. She even taught one of them violin. And she surfs every morning! She walks from the beach to the kitchen in her swimsuit. My friends love coming over.”
He laughed again. “Thanks to her, I’ve made a lot of friends.”
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Then, more softly: “But I don’t know if adult men like her. She got mad when we called her ‘Queen of Naivete’ at home—but… it’s kind of true, right?”
Miguel and Alex exchanged glances, both wisely silent.
“Time to move,” Miguel said, standing and brushing off his pants.
They resumed the climb in thoughtful quiet.
Alex kept his eyes on the path, but his mind lingered on Kazu’s words.
Something about the boy’s tone felt less like innocence and more like protection—a shield crafted of humor and warmth to guard someone dear.
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By the time the men reached the summit, the women were already lounging in the shade, laughter echoing through the clearing.
Naosa spotted Kazu and ran to him, eyes shining.
“You did it! Well done!” She hugged him tight.
“Yeah, this is fine,” he said with practiced nonchalance, though pride gleamed beneath it.
For that brief moment, the resemblance between them was undeniable—not in looks, but in light.
“Let’s eat,” Sally called, and everyone settled down for lunch.
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Naosa unpacked her bag and revealed an impossible amount of food.
“Scones, muffins, cookies, croissants, sandwiches—help yourselves!”
“I told you this wasn’t a picnic,” Sally muttered, but laughter rippled through the group.
After lunch, Sally stood and addressed them.
“The goal of hiking isn’t reaching the top,” she said. “It’s getting down safely. That’s the real test. Going downhill’s harder than it looks—watch your footing, it’s slippery.”
“Let’s go,” she added briskly.
The descent was steeper than it appeared, the loose dirt and roots keeping them on alert. But with care—and laughter—they all made it back safely.
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“Well done, everyone!” Jill cheered as they reached the parking lot.
Naosa beamed, glowing with gratitude and exhaustion.
“So, what now?” Miguel asked, reluctant for the day to end.
“Dinner,” Jill said decisively. “We never celebrated the basketball win.”
“Perfect,” Miguel agreed, and the rest nodded eagerly.
“But before that,” Naosa said suddenly, “I want to buy a cell phone. I don’t have one, so please help me.”
“What?!” several voices cried in unison. “You don’t have a phone?”
“Electronic sounds give me headaches. I’ve never owned one,” she said simply. “But I have email and a landline.”
Kazu groaned good-naturedly. “She says she’s fine, but it’s everyone else who suffers!”
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They stopped at an electronics store. Kazu buzzed with excitement while Naosa looked entirely overwhelmed.
Together they picked out a phone for him, and Alex, Miguel, and Kevin helped set it up.
Alex dialed Kazu’s number. “There. Now you have mine. Call if you need anything.”
Kazu’s eyes lit up. “Really? Thanks!”
Miguel and Kevin exchanged numbers too, and Naosa smiled quietly, watching her nephew step a little further into his own world.
They ended the day at a pizza place, laughter spilling over the table as lines between colleagues and friends faded away.
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On the drive back, Naosa gave Miguel directions.
“You live here?” he asked, eyebrows rising.
He recognized the name of the district—one of the most exclusive in town.
“Yes,” Naosa and Kazu said together, perfectly in sync.
Miguel’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.
“I’ve never even driven through here. Feels like another planet.”
When they reached an ornate gate, Naosa hopped out to open it.
“Drive up this way. The gate will close behind you,” she said.
The house that came into view could have graced a magazine spread—modern, spacious, overlooking the sea that shimmered under the twilight.
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Naosa and Kazu waved until the car disappeared around the corner.
Alex watched them fade from sight in the rearview mirror, silent.
Back on the main road, Miguel finally exhaled.
“Man, I hate driving that junk car around rich neighborhoods,” he joked. “I thought Amanda was the richest person I knew—but Nao’s on another level.”
Alex said quietly, “Money’s not what’s different about them.”
Miguel nodded. “Yeah. They’re from Planet Naivete.”
They both laughed—but the warmth that lingered afterward was real.
A quiet affection had taken root—for the odd, luminous pair who had somehow wandered into their world.
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