In Japan, there had long been the tradition of viewing cherry blossoms in spring, and fireworks in summer.
The exact timing of cherry blossom season varied across the country depending on the blooming period: from mid-January in Okinawa, all the way up to early May in Hokkaido.
By contrast, the summer fireworks festivals—born from competitions between two rival pyrotechnic guilds in the Edo period—had become standardized across the nation. Always held during July and August, the very height of school vacation, when everyone could attend.
Of course, beyond preserving tradition, there were obvious commercial incentives as well.
Still, many girls felt there was another, far more important reason—
"How do I look?"
In the Takanashi sisters' room, only two people were present: the older sister, Takanashi Toka, and her foster brother, Minamoto Senya.
Toka had just changed into her yukata. Sliding open the curtain divider, she stepped forward somewhat nervously, coming to stand before Senya, who was already scrutinizing her with a thoughtful look.
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he rubbed his chin, circling slowly around her as if appraising a work of art.
The sky-blue yukata was patterned with bold blossoms that perfectly matched her gentle, refined aura. The shortened sleeves and hem revealed her slender wrists and calves.
Her bare feet, pale and delicate as lotus roots, rested directly on the wooden floor. Her arches curved gracefully, her toes round and pink.
Having just showered, she had pinned her hair up. Her long, white neck was bare, a few damp strands falling loosely by her ears, accentuating her face with a vivid, almost bewitching charm.
She truly was a young woman in full bloom—ready to rival the peach blossoms themselves.
Compared to the girls around him, Takanashi Toka really was different. Already in high school, she carried herself with a maturity and presence beyond that of a mere schoolgirl. She was stepping into a new stage of womanhood.
After completing his circle, Senya suppressed his amazement, pondering how to respond.
"It still looks weird, doesn't it?"
Toka's voice betrayed her growing unease.
Senya shook his head, his gaze earnest and appreciative. "Not at all. You look beautiful, Toka-nee. You're already very pretty on your own, but with this yukata, you're even more stunning."
He was younger, and yet when she looked at him—heard him speak with such calm sincerity—she couldn't shake the illusion of an older brother gently doting on his sister.
Flustered, she brushed the thought aside and forced herself to remain composed despite the flutter in her chest. "Well, I suppose I do look good. But credit goes to Mom—she chose this yukata. It really does fit me perfectly."
The yukata had been purchased and sent by their mother, Junko, who was still in Okinawa.
It was the summer of her eldest daughter's first year of high school—an important milestone. She had carefully chosen the outfit as a gift, insisting Toka wear it and enjoy herself with her friends, so she'd have precious memories to look back on.
As for the younger ones, there was no rush. When they reached high school, she would do the same for them.
"So… I'll wear this out tonight?"
"Yeah," Senya confirmed.
Reassured, Toka's confidence grew. She wouldn't change back. She'd wear this straight to her meeting with Haruno later.
"At the fireworks, I won't be sticking with you. Watch Rikka carefully—don't let her run off or make a scene."
"Don't make it sound like she's some pet."
"It's just a warning."
"Don't worry about me. Worry about yourself and Haruno-nee. Be careful not to get bothered by strange guys."
"We won't be alone—she's bringing some friends."
…Wait.
She hadn't mentioned that before.
Seeing the look in Senya's eyes, she quickly explained, "They're all girls. And don't you dare go blabbing to Mom and Dad."
Halfway through, she realized how strange it was—to be explaining herself to her little brother.
Catching herself, she smoothly added, "Anyway, I'm not the type to gossip. Let's get going—it's about time."
"You go wait in the living room. I'll be right there."
"Something left to do?"
"I still need to put on what goes under the yukata. Want to stay and help me?" (No blood relation.)
"…"
Senya turned wordlessly, closing the door behind him.
The moment he was gone, Toka couldn't hold back a sly smile, her expression radiant and teasing.
—
At the Yukinoshita residence, Haruno and Yukino were preparing to leave when their mother appeared at the entryway.
"Just in time. Your father's back—let the driver take you."
Escaping the torment of packed trains was a blessing.
Both sisters agreed readily, though Haruno's curiosity piqued. "Strange… Father's home this early?"
"He and I are going to the fireworks too," their mother explained.
Haruno teased, "Oh? A little romantic night out, reliving your youthful passion?"
Her mother merely smiled knowingly. "As usual, it's just a formal gathering. Some uncles and family friends will be there—you haven't seen them in ages. Why don't you come with me instead?"
Caught off guard, Haruno immediately pulled a pained face. "Spare me, Mom. I already promised my friends. You always said Yukinoshita women never break their word, remember?"
Yukino, slipping on her shoes beside her, hid her quiet amusement.
Then her mother turned to her thoughtfully. "Yukino, you're going with Senya-kun tonight, aren't you?"
"Not just him," Yukino corrected. "There'll be others."
"Oh? A big group?"
Yukino quickly tallied: herself and Eriri, Senya and Rikka, Saeko, and that mysterious new girl who had suddenly appeared. Six in total. Enough to qualify as a crowd.
She nodded.
"I see… Well, if it were just a few of you, I would've invited you to our reserved spot around seven. The view is excellent. But with so many, never mind. Just enjoy yourselves."
"Yes. We'll be off then."
Meanwhile, Senya's group was also setting out.
Aside from Toka in her yukata, everyone else wore casual clothes.
At the station, while waiting for the train, Toka sidled up to Senya and held onto his arm—not out of affection, but discomfort.
The yukata was perfect—her mother had bought a fine one. But the wooden sandals she had purchased herself from a random shop were poorly made.
The single thong strap pressed painfully between her toes, leaving the tender skin red and raw.
Senya followed her gaze downward and immediately understood.
"Can you manage?"
"…It's fine as long as I don't walk too much," she admitted.
"Alright. Once we get off the train, I'll handle it."
Though she doubted what he could do, his words reassured her. She nodded.
Twenty minutes later, they emerged from the station. While the others waited outside, Senya ran to a convenience store and returned with soft bandages.
He asked her to steady herself against Rikka, then crouched down and carefully wrapped the sandal straps in padding before helping her try them again.
She took a few steps. This time, the harsh rubbing had vanished, replaced by soft comfort.
"It doesn't hurt anymore."
"Good. Otherwise I was ready to buy you a new pair on the spot."
Crisis averted.
The scene had not gone unnoticed by Kasumigaoka Shiyu.
As a writer, she had a natural eye for observation and detail. Though she had only met Senya a few hours earlier, she had already gleaned quite a lot about him and his companions.
Sawamura Eriri, of course, needed no introduction—they had known each other since childhood. From her attitude and expressions, it was obvious she had strong feelings for Senya. Perhaps even a possessive streak, guarding what she saw as hers. Yet judging by Senya's responses, those feelings were far from mutual in equal measure.
Dokujima Saeko, his senior in school, was friendly and composed. Unlike Eriri's open hostility, Saeko had treated her with warmth from the start. She and Senya had fought side by side in the kendo club, winning nationals together—a bond of effort and triumph not easily broken. Still, their interactions seemed perfectly natural, not overly charged. Likely just a mutual respect between two prodigies.
Then there were the Takanashi sisters: the younger one innocent and lively, blurting out information without hesitation; the elder steady and composed, with the air of a dependable leader. Though step-siblings, her relationship with Senya was unusually close—closer, perhaps, than many blood siblings.
After all, just moments ago, the boy who compulsively wiped his hands after touching public railings hadn't so much as flinched while handling his sister's well-worn sandals. That spoke volumes.
Shiyu mentally jotted everything down, sketching her "field notes."
If she wanted to draw closer to her white knight—the one who had extended her a helping hand—she would need to navigate these relationships carefully.
The Takanashi sisters were essential. Saeko, too, deserved warmth in return.
Eriri would be trickier—her hostility impossible to ignore forever. But for now, it was best to follow the art of war: yield temporarily, avoid direct confrontation, and bide her time.
She was just a simple, transparent girl, easy enough to deal with in the long run.
Having sorted it out, Shiyu's mood lifted. She felt certain: the protagonist of her rose-colored youth had already taken his place on stage.
Soon, their group gathered by a well-known statue where Yukino would join them. Toka, meanwhile, was also meeting Haruno.
Ahead, the streets had been closed for the festival. Police directed the crowd, while vendors lined the road with temporary stalls.
Seeing others eating, Rikka's cravings flared. Though she knew they would all be dining with Yukino soon, she couldn't resist wandering over to a stall selling candied fruit.
But the prices made her falter—festival food was always twice, sometimes three times the usual cost. She wanted to buy for everyone, but her wallet screamed in protest.
Spotting her dilemma, Shiyu seized the chance to step in—but before she could, Senya was already pressing his wallet into Rikka's hand.
"If you want it, buy it."
"Thanks, Senya—no, thanks, Onii-chan!"
"No need. I'm just an emotionless ATM."
"Don't say that! I respect you greatly, my dear brother…"
Shiyu watched the exchange, noting the warmth in Senya's expression as Rikka beamed. Quietly, she added "sis-con (suspected)" to the notes in her mind.
Rikka bought several skewers of candied fruit, distributing them among the group.
By now, the sun had dipped, and the crowd swelled.
Finally, the Yukinoshita sisters arrived, delayed by heavy traffic.
"Sorry, sorry! We didn't expect the roads to be this bad—we should've taken the train. You didn't wait too long, did you?" Haruno apologized profusely the moment she spotted them, clapping her hands together.
Her eyes lit up when she saw Toka in her yukata. She immediately rushed over to admire her closely.
Yukino followed behind. The moment she appeared, Eriri couldn't contain herself—rushing forward with unusual excitement.
Shiyu watched curiously. Yukino merely smiled faintly, letting Eriri grab her hands and whisper something that quickly calmed her down.
Then the sisters approached the rest of the group.
Haruno greeted everyone with her usual warmth. Yukino too, offering polite nods and smiles—at everyone except Senya.
When her gaze brushed over him, it was distant, dismissive, as if he were a stranger.
Instead, her eyes locked on Kasumigaoka Shiyu.
Many women possessed what was often called a "sixth sense."
It was quiet most of the time, but in pivotal moments, it sparked without reason—warning of something unseen.
Like a wife instantly sensing her husband's betrayal upon his return home, only to later be proven right.
Now, it happened again.
The instant their eyes met, Shiyu felt a jolt of unease.
It was like two cats or dogs instinctively recognizing they could never get along.
This cold-eyed girl standing before her—Kasumigaoka Shiyu just knew.
They were natural enemies.