The fireworks festival began in August, with the end of summer break just around the corner.
The event took place by the Shinano River riverbed, and, according to Nanaka, the reflection of the fireworks on the river’s surface was oh-so-beautiful. However, to get a proper view, they all needed to meet up early to secure a good spot.
Of course, ‘they’ referred to all the members of Meikun’s social game club. Misako had once again entrusted Kai with a camera and declined to go herself. Even when weighed against everything the occasion offered, her distaste for large crowds won out.
“If you want a photograph so badly, then you should come along and take it yourself,” Kai had said in an attempt to refuse her.
However, that just caused Misako to cling to him like she only had a day to live. She’d stuck to his back, gripped onto his legs, and finally flopped over in a tantrum by the front door like a child, cutting off his path while screaming, “No no no no no no!!!” When he’d attempted to step over her to leave, she’d clung to him again, starting the whole process over. When, at long last, Kai had ceded this war of attrition, he was on pace to be late for their designated rendezvous time no matter what he did.
With the camera that Misako had forced onto him firmly in hand, Kai made his way over to meet up with everyone in front of Nanaka’s home (though technically it was also in front of Eru’s home), since she lived the closest to the festival. The heat of summer was still alive and well, and the fact that he was running consequently led him to work up a sweat even in the growing darkness of early twilight. Still, with no time to worry about such things, he hurried along.
Kai showed up five minutes past the time he was supposed to, and was greeted with a “You’re late!” from Nanaka, who seemed more cheerful than upset. As she waved toward him, he could see that the other three had already arrived.
“S-Sorry,” he stammered. He’d noticed from afar, but couldn’t help but think again, she really is beautiful—and cute.
Nanaka, Eru, and Aina were all wearing yukata. Nanaka’s hair was styled differently today, tied up into a little bundle on top of her head. Lit by the setting sun, Kai found the sight of her usually-hidden neck to be quite seductive.
“What... do you think?” she asked him meekly.
What do I think? Kai repeated internally. “I-It, uh, suits you... a lot,” he told her.
“...Th-Thanks.” The way Nanaka awkwardly averted her gaze was downright criminal.
“Hey!” Suddenly, Kai felt something pull at his sleeve. He turned to see Aina exaggeratedly puffing up her cheeks in dissatisfaction. “She’s not the only one wearing a yukata, you know? ♪”
Despite the blooming smile on her face, Aina definitely wasn’t laughing on the inside. Kai knew that he couldn’t let himself be deceived by this contradictory expression. He figured that the fact that he could tell as much was proof that he understood her better now than he had before.
Aina’s shimmering black hair alone was enough to make the yukata work on her. If he’d known absolutely nothing about her personality, the scene of her gazing at the fireworks over the river would surely be unforgettable. At least, she naturally exuded enough presence to make Kai think that.
“I told Grandma I didn’t need to wear one,” Aina grumbled, “but she just wouldn’t listen.”
“I think... that was the right move.”
“‘The right move’?” With a single glance, she was telling him to clearly say it out loud.
I really wish she’d stop doing that, Kai thought to himself. Out loud, he started to say, “It su—”
“Oh, I’ve already heard, ‘It suits you,’ so that’s enough.”
“Huh, wait, but—”
“Hmm, then how about this?” Aina asked teasingly. “Cute or beautiful? Which am I? ♪”
What kind of intention lies behind this question—this smile? Kai wondered. He couldn’t even begin to imagine. Aina wasn’t asking anything straightforward; she was probably testing him on something. Regardless of his suspicions, the unknown remained unknown. Cute or beautiful? Looking at her again with all this swirling around his head, Kai was no closer to an answer and simply said what was on his mind.
“...Both, I guess,” he finally replied, feeling that this answer was the closest thing to truth. To elaborate, he thought she was neither one nor the other, because Aina’s image was prone to change at the drop of a hat. Of course, that was partly due to her propensity to wear masks whenever it suited her, but the bigger factor was her skill in acting. She’d been polishing it since she was a little girl, and it now made her appear in an infinite array of possibilities, like the patterns of a kaleidoscope.
However, it seemed that Kai’s response was outside the bounds of Aina’s expectations. She faltered for a moment and averted her gaze as she muttered, “...So greedy.”
And once again, Kai felt a tug at his sleeve. This time, he turned to find Aya.
“Senpai,” she said demandingly, “what about me?!”
“You’re wearing plain clothes,” he observed. Not only that, but she was wearing an outfit that he’d seen plenty of times during their Summit development hustle. With just a t-shirt and jeans, Aya was wholly undecorated, although in some way, that was quite befitting of her.
“...We’re matching,” she pointed out.
“No,” he told her. “Like I said, we’re just wearing plain clothes.”
“...Yeah, but a yukata is such a pain to put on and walk around in,” Aya whined. “Plus, I end up getting super-duper mad when I wear one.”
“You get mad?”
“...Senpai. Listen to me,” Aya insisted. “In this world of ours, when a shrimp like me dares to wear something the slightest bit Japanese, there’s always a gaggle of idiots who start asking if I’m celebrating my third or seventh birthday.”
“Pft!” Eru instantly burst into laughter following a failed attempt to hold herself back. She was probably imagining Aya’s yukata-clad figure as she glanced over at Aya a second, then a third time, laughing again with each peek. In Eru’s mind, Aya was probably holding a stick of traditional children’s candy and making a V with her fingers.
“For the first time in my life,” Eru said in between snickers, “I truly understand what pity feels like.”
“...Senpai?” Aya asked.
“What?” Kai replied.
“Can I stick bugs in all the code that has to do with this idiot’s drawings?”
With a heavy sigh and a light chop on the head, Kai answered, “Denied,” to which Aya glared at him in discontent. Regardless of what kind of face she was making, he wasn’t about to allow something like that.
Then, Kai suddenly made eye contact with Eru. She was also wearing a yukata, and the way her long, dark hair slipped down to her waist brought about a dazzling atmosphere altogether different from Nanaka and Aina.
“I’m only wearing this because Nanaka told me to,” Eru explained. “...If you dare make any comment, I’ll poke out your eyes, dear.”
“R-Right...”