Yukinoshita Yukino and Kasumigaoka Utaha regarded one another in silence.
Minamoto Senya offered a brief introduction.
Utaha, despite a strange unease stirring within her, forced a polite smile.
Yukino, unmoved by the prejudiced complaints Eriri had whispered to her beforehand, inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment.
Their first encounter seemed calm enough, even ordinary.
Off to the side, Yangno tugged at Touka's arm. Their group had to split up today—they had other friends to meet—so after a wave, the two disappeared into the crowd.
It was just past six, the height of summer. Streaks of crimson cloud fanned across the western sky; dusk had not fully set.
From here, things followed the plan they had agreed upon earlier.
"None of us have had dinner yet, right? Does anyone have a restaurant they'd recommend?" Utaha asked, doing her best to sound approachable.
Since childhood, she had avoided mingling with her peers, her intelligence and precocity setting her apart. That distance had only widened in junior high.
The truth was, Utaha had never really had close friends. Which also meant she had little experience in making them.
But she was clever enough not to panic. She had reference points.
In her mind she flipped through countless campus light novels, focusing on the bright, popular heroines. She catalogued their common phrases, their behaviors, making notes.
All she needed to do now was follow her "script" and not trip over her lines.
"Thank you, but my sister and I ate at home before coming out, so we're not too hungry," Yukino answered first.
She had indeed eaten earlier—just a few snacks, but enough.
"Same here. Yukino and I aren't hungry either," Eriri chimed in quickly.
Since Yukino's arrival, Eriri had clung to her like a drowning girl to a lifebuoy. With Yukino by her side, her confidence and assurance had returned.
Utaha fell silent for a moment. She didn't mind Eriri, that sharp-tongued girl, for now. But Yukino…
Was Yukinoshita deliberately brushing her off, refusing to cooperate, or was she simply telling the truth?
From the moment they met, Yukino's face had been calm, cool—distant. Courteous enough, but quiet, aloof. The very picture of what online slang called an "ascetic girl."
Utaha truly couldn't tell. Was Yukino like Eriri, actively hostile? Or simply reserved, needing time to adjust to strangers—much like herself?
For now, Utaha chose the more generous interpretation. She would observe further before deciding.
She shifted her attention. "What about you, Rikka-chan? Anything you'd like to eat?"
"Eh? Me?" Takanashi Rikka had been nibbling candied fruit, glancing at Eriri with a dawning realization of something unsaid. Utaha's sudden question caught her off guard.
"I can eat anything. I'm not picky."
It wasn't entirely true. She hated green peppers, carrots, and other vegetables. More often than not, her older sister had to scold or force her to finish them.
"I see…"
Utaha's attempt fell flat again. Two questions, no real results.
That left only two others.
"I've been practicing kendo all afternoon. Honestly, I'm starving," Senya said at last.
Most didn't hear it, but his stomach had given a faint growl.
Kendo demanded focus, energy, sweat—and shouts that rang from the gut. Anyone who practiced knew how exhausting it was.
The red bean cakes Eriri had bought him were only a snack. When he got home, he had entertained guests and cut up fruit but never sat down to eat.
And right before leaving, Touka had dragged him into the room, fresh from the bath, insisting he admire her first yukata.
Well, it had been worth it. A lovely distraction, no complaints.
"That's true—Saeko-senpai also practiced kendo all afternoon. You must be hungry as well," Utaha said brightly.
"I'll go along with whatever you decide," Busujima Saeko replied, her usual warmth shining through.
"If possible… I'd prefer meat," Senya added.
"It seems Minamoto-kun really is hungry." Utaha smiled lightly, her heart secretly lifting.
Every little thing he did carried weight in her eyes. Even a casual remark could feel like concern, a gesture of kindness.
So gentle. So considerate.
Utaha had always assumed her future love would be older—like her parents' model. Older boys were more mature, more protective.
But now… age suddenly didn't matter.
Younger could be wonderful too.
The conditions were set. Next came the problem of finding a restaurant.
But the festival streets were packed, long lines spilling out of every shop.
It wasn't until they walked two hundred meters away that they stumbled upon a family restaurant.
One empty table remained, by the window. Lucky.
Unlucky, though: it only seated four. They squeezed in, Senya fetching an extra chair to sit outside the table.
Eriri, Yukino, and Rikka sat on one side. Saeko and Utaha sat opposite.
When the waiter arrived, Utaha smiled, urging everyone to order freely.
Unable to refuse her politeness, Senya and Saeko each ordered a meal set.
The rest, including Utaha herself, only asked for drinks.
After the waiter left, Saeko tilted her head. "Kasumigaoka-san, aren't you ordering anything?"
"I already ate a lot of fruit at Senya-kun's house. I gain weight easily, so I try not to eat much at night."
"Really? But in my opinion, you're not fat at all. You have a very nice figure."
"I'm lazy, I don't exercise. Compared to you, Saeko-senpai, I can't compete at all."
She wasn't being modest—it was true.
The two were the same age, yet Saeko's body was far more developed, sculpted from years of kendo practice and proper nutrition. Even Touka's bras had started to feel tight on her.
Utaha, in contrast, was the quintessential literary girl: quiet, sedentary. Though she had inherited her mother's refined beauty, in body she lagged behind.
Still, chatting beside Saeko gave her courage. She stole a glance at Senya sipping water, then spoke boldly:
"…If it's alright, you can just call me Utaha. Everyone else too."
She looked first at Saeko, then at the others, her gaze finally and most naturally resting on Senya.
Responses varied.
Saeko smiled, nodding easily. "Then call me Saeko as well."
Yukino only nodded, answering coolly: "Some things don't need to be rushed. We'll grow accustomed naturally."
But she had noticed Utaha's eyes—lingering far too long on Senya, softening in ways they never did with anyone else. A flicker of displeasure stirred within her.
Utaha blinked, then quickly smiled. "You're right, Yukinoshita-san. I look forward to getting along."
"Likewise."
Across the table, Eriri stifled a laugh.
Everyone seemed calm, but she had caught it—that fleeting helpless look on Senya's face after Yukino spoke.
Hilarious. Absolutely priceless.
Yukino was the best.
Meanwhile, Rikka, who had been dazzled earlier by learning Utaha was the novelist Kasumi Shiko, now sensed something amiss.
It seemed… Eriri and Yukino didn't get along with her.
Rikka bore no ill will—she only wanted to keep things friendly. Besides, if tension arose, Senya would be the one to suffer most.
Usually, she was the one being looked after. This time, she could step up.
Friends were precious. But Nissan was most precious of all.
So she resolved to liven up the mood, chattering brightly. Thanks to her, conversation flowed, easing the strain.
Utaha and Yukino even exchanged thoughts: Utaha on the pressure she faced writing novels, Yukino on her studies abroad, the strange and interesting things she had seen.
Others joined in too.
Utaha happened to notice Senya—listening, but gazing out the window often.
Following his eyes, she saw the shopping mall across the street. A massive electronic screen played an ad: a woman in black stockings.
When it ended, Senya had already turned back, chatting as though nothing had happened.
Utaha lowered her gaze slightly. Beneath the table, her legs shifted closer together.
She wore a dress with sandals today. Her pale calves showed clean and smooth.
Maybe… maybe she could try stockings next time.
Food arrived quickly, the staff well-prepared for the festival rush.
By 6:40, they had eaten and stepped back outside. Dusk deepened toward night.
They pushed through the festival crowd into Sumida Park, the prime spot for watching the fireworks.
Beyond flowed the Sumida River, mother river of Tokyo.
In minutes, fireworks would burst above it.
In years past, Eriri and Yukino had also come here to watch.
Arms full of festival food and trinkets, the air scented with faint smoke—such memories were precious.
But this year felt different. They were junior high students now, no longer children. Yukino had returned after so long, only to leave again soon, flying abroad, alone.
Tonight, Eriri wanted to create a special memory for her. A farewell gift, a comfort.
Yet Senya's sudden intrusion had scrambled everything.
Still, reality was reality. Nothing to be done.
At least, on the surface, Yukino seemed unaffected…
When Eriri's thoughts began to drift, Senya jolted her back with unexpected action.
He stuck out his foot, tripping a man rushing past—and in the same motion snatched a woman's wallet from his grasp.
It happened so fast.
The man rounded angrily on Senya—only to falter at the boy's steady, fearless gaze, the taunting curve of his lips.
Momentum gone, the man spat a curse and bolted.
Senya didn't bother chasing. He jogged up to a girl in a mask and baseball cap. "Excuse me—you dropped your wallet."
She flinched back, then realized her small shoulder bag had been unzipped. Bowing, she accepted the wallet with repeated thanks.
Senya waved it off. Just a small good deed.
A minor stat boost, nothing more.
But when he returned, his friends' eyes lingered on him—each shimmering with their own ripples of thought.
Rikka, heart pounding from the brush with crime, asked first: "Senya, how did you notice?"
He ruffled her hair. "I just happened to see. But listen—if something like this happens, you shouldn't get involved. Just warn the person or call the police."
"I understand," she nodded. She knew he was worried. She had seen the thief's venomous glare.
Had it been her—fragile, half-housebound, too weak to open a soda bottle—she might not have survived a confrontation.
"That was well done," Yukino said simply, her chin lifted.
Senya chuckled. "If the second daughter of the Yukinoshita family says so, then it must be."
"Don't call me that," Yukino huffed.
"Then perhaps… the good cat beneath?" he teased.
She shot him a half-annoyed glance, pretending indifference, though inside the nickname made her heart flutter.
Eriri too praised him, eyes bright with admiration.
They walked on.
Utaha and Saeko flanked him, basking in his central presence.
Though Utaha had only met him today, she already carried herself like the heroine of the story, more so even than possessive Eriri.
She leaned closer, feigning a stumble, apologized to a passerby, then tilted her head toward Senya. A subtle declaration of territory, warding off the gazes of other girls.
"In a situation like that, most people would turn a blind eye. You really are brave and kind, Minamoto-kun."
Saeko, however, spoke more plainly, her approval clear in her eyes. "You handled it well."
Senya smiled. "And what would you have done, Saeko-senpai?"
She met his half-smile, understanding. "The same. We're alike in that."
Compliment for compliment.
Utaha seized her moment. "This may be sudden, but… could I ask a favor, Minamoto-kun?"
"Hm?"
"After meeting you, and seeing what happened just now, countless ideas sparked in my mind. From now on, the male protagonist of my novels may borrow from you in some ways."
"Me?"
He pretended to be flustered, but was secretly pleased.
Utaha's heart soared. Gratitude and admiration mixed, maxing out her "emotional value."
"Is that alright?"
"Of course. It's an honor, truly. I never would've dreamed of appearing in Kasumi Shiko's novels."
"Then it's settled."
"I'll buy it later—Love Metronome, right? I'll get it to support you, Utaha."
"Thank you, Saeko-senpai. But you don't have to buy it specially. I can bring you a copy next time."
They chatted as they walked, soon finding a grassy slope.
From here, the Sumida River spread before them—the stage for the fireworks.
At 7:10, darkness had fully fallen.
Sumida Park was packed. Laughter and chatter filled the air.
Ten minutes later, right on schedule, a sharp whistle cut through the night.
A fireball arced skyward, dimmed—then burst, scattering blossoms of light across the dark.
"Wow!" Rikka gasped, eyes shining.
Eriri too stared upward, spellbound.
Fireworks—how magical. Her gloom vanished with the first explosion.
One after another, sparks raced skyward, bursting into fleeting brilliance.
The reflections danced in Saeko's and Utaha's eyes.
Couples around them leaned close, kissed boldly, some even tumbling into the grass.
Yukino felt a poke at her waist. She turned—Eriri and Rikka, both blushing, gestured toward the kissing couples.
"I don't…" Yukino's cheeks burned. She cut the sentence short.
As though sensing it, she looked aside—straight into Senya's gaze.
Their eyes locked.
The roar of fireworks and cheers muffled everything.
So he mouthed words silently.
She read his lips, understood.
But chose not to answer—only smiled faintly, tilting her face back toward the sky.
A moment later, Senya's phone buzzed.
He glanced down, smiled.