The quickest way from the infirmary to the first-year classrooms was up a staircase mostly used by second-years. I wouldn’t normally have chosen that route, but all the students were outside around the bonfire, so I figured no one would see me.
It seemed the windows were open, since I heard music floating in. The jenkka had ended, and I could make out the beginning of the next song, “Mayim Mayim.” Chiaki and his friends were probably having a blast dancing to it at that very moment.
When I reached the top of the stairs, I was greeted by the sight of the deserted booths and attractions. The contrast between the crowds earlier and the currently empty classrooms was striking, almost as if the festival had been an elaborate dream.
The hallway lights were off, but light from the schoolyard shone through the window, so it wasn’t dark. The classrooms were still decked out in their extraordinary decorations. I felt an unfamiliar pang of loneliness when I realized it wouldn’t be long before they would be taken down. The two days of the festival had passed in the blink of an eye. Chiaki had told me the festival prep was the best part, and he was right.
As I walked along, trying to savor the final moments of the festive atmosphere, I spotted a couple of people inside Class 2-A. The curtains were open, and it looked like someone had already started tidying as the desks were lined up in rows. The two figures in the classroom had their backs to me. They stood near the window, gazing out over the schoolyard, and I couldn’t help feeling captivated by the sight of them.
I couldn’t make out their faces, due to the backlight, but both had long hair. One was a girl in a school uniform, and the other was likely a boy. He seemed to be wearing a costume, and he gave off an elegance, unlike Chiaki and the other boys. Practically pressed against each other, the two listened to the “Mayim Mayim” dancers’ raucous shouts, which were clearly audible inside. I knew I shouldn’t watch the pair, but I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away.
The song finally ended, and “Turkey In The Straw” began. We’d learned the folk dances that would play at the festival bonfire in P.E., but this one required girls to hold hands with boys, so Yoshino couldn’t do it. Still, if the events in the haunted house hadn’t transpired, she’d probably be out there now, dancing with other girls.
I needed to hurry and make my way to our classroom. Just as I was about to leave, however, the two students I’d been watching clasped hands and started to dance. Despite the jaunty melody, they moved slowly, almost like they were dancing to a ballad. Their faces remained hidden until the girl twirled, giving me a better angle to make out her features.
It was Hasumi-senpai. So, the boy by her side was…
“Tono-senpai,” I mumbled to myself.
For some reason, instead of the black suit he’d worn in the classroom earlier, he now wore a thick black wig and a white cocktail dress that perfectly accentuated his slender build. Unlike Chiaki and his friends’ gaudy stage makeup, Tono-senpai’s makeup was soft and delicate, just like what a normal girl would wear. And, strangely, nothing seemed off about it.
They didn’t dance very long. Hasumi-senpai reached out to stroke Tono-senpai’s cheek and whisper something in his ear. For a moment, he looked like he was on the verge of tears. Then they kissed passionately, as if trying to consume each other.
I couldn’t watch any longer. I crept away to Class 1-C, trying to keep my footsteps as light as possible. I finally understood Yoshino’s attraction to Tono-senpai. When the other boys tried wearing women’s clothes, they were obviously cross-dressing, but Tono-senpai was indistinguishable from the real thing. Yoshino must’ve sensed the feminine energy he exuded, even dressed in his normal school uniform. Still, that didn’t change the fact that she’d fallen for Tono-senpai, a boy.
Our classroom was still set up as a pitch-black haunted house. I pulled the blackout curtain back partway to look for our belongings, which gave me a view of what was happening in the schoolyard below. Some wood in the bonfire exploded, and sparks flew all the way to the second floor.
All our classmates had put their things in one corner of the classroom, and thanks to our matching keychains, I easily found my and Yoshino’s bags. At that point, I knew I needed to head back to the infirmary, but for some reason, I froze.
Yoshino and I had the same keychains and stationary sets in our customary cherry-pink color. From our uniforms to our hairstyles and our identical outfits, we were supposed to be two hearts beating as one. However similar we looked, though, our hearts had to be separate. After all, Yoshino and I didn’t love the same person.
The flames dyed the trees crimson, and the fireworks floating in the air looked just like cherry blossom petals scattering in the wind.
Yoshino and I weren’t the same at all. I’d adopted her hairstyle and her favorite color as my own. I’d convinced myself I liked shojo manga and mint chocolate, just like she did. Yet however hard I tried to match Yoshino, and however much I cared about her, we were still different people.
I’d fallen in love with Yoshino, but she hadn’t fallen in love with me, and my chest throbbed painfully with the knowledge that my feelings would never be returned. The melody of “Sakura, Sakura” played over and over in my head.
Oh, how I wanted to dance with Yoshino.