Chapter 3: Departing from the Deep Blue

Chapter 3:
Departing from the Deep Blue

AFTER TWO NIGHTS of diligent effort, I held up the end result to evaluate its quality.

1. Shimamura lets me sleep over again. 2. Shimamura and I go shopping somewhere. 3. Shimamura lets me hold her hand and we have a fun time. 4. Shimamura and I go to the pool. Maybe the beach? Too far? 5. Shimamura

It was a list of things I wanted to do over summer vacation, and most of them—okay, all of them—started with Shimamura. I hadn’t thought too hard about it while I was in the process of writing it all out, but now that I was looking at it, my gaze bashfully avoided all the times I’d written her name. By the time I’d reached number five on the list, I had run out of space to write anything; why had I just left Shimamura’s name there? This was a mystery of my own (sleep-deprived) making.

Still, it was technically accurate. In my head, the Venn diagram of “summer break” and “Shimamura” was basically a circle. That said, they weren’t firmly linked, so I would have to make a conscious effort. Otherwise, if I zoned out in the heat, this list would never be anything more than incoherent scribbles, and by the time school was back in session, I’d be left with nothing but my regrets.

Now that Shimamura was a part of my life, I refused to let this summer turn out worse than all the others I’d wasted sitting around doing nothing. That was why I spent the past two days organizing my thoughts on paper: to go out and do things and have fun. When I thought about it, I realized this succinctly described the entire point of summer break. And having fun together, just the two of us, was surely proof of our close bond…

“Proof…”

I wasn’t confident such a thing actually existed, but if by any chance I got my paws on some, I would probably strut around town for a week straight just to show it off. So how could I prove the existence of something that was invisible to the naked eye? …With a thermometer or something?

I looked up at the clock. My shift was going to start soon, so I set my to-do list down on my desk and changed into my work clothes. Then I remembered I hadn’t eaten breakfast. Eh, whatever.

Honestly, I had no real incentive to keep working. When I first started, I figured it was better than sitting around doing nothing, and having money saved up would be helpful in case of an emergency. But now I had a ton of money in the bank and nothing to spend it on. Sure, it was a source of pocket money for whenever Shimamura and I hung out somewhere, but those opportunities were few and far between.

Still, if there was anything that motivated me to keep showing up for work, it was the hope that Shimamura and her family might come back to eat there again. Sure, it was kind of humiliating, but…I mean…Shimamura had complimented my cheongsam in the past, so I wasn’t really bothered by the thought of her seeing me in it, I guess? And part of me wanted her to be…drawn to me, or something. Instead of me always having to chase her down, I wanted her to start meeting me in the middle, one step at a time. That was what being close was all about, right?

No one had ever taught me these things. In the past I never cared, but now I was actively trying to learn. When would I be able to make up for lost time?

After writing about Shimamura so much, I yearned to hear her voice, so I decided I’d call her after my shift ended. Even if I didn’t have anything else to talk about, I at least wanted her to know that I missed her… I just wasn’t sure I’d be able to get the words out without getting tongue-tied.

Ugh, now I’ll have to wait forever. I wish I’d had this idea after work.

I grabbed my bike key and my house key and stepped outside. With no air conditioning to protect me, I discovered another sweltering summer day waiting for me. And as the sunshine slung an arm around my shoulders, the cicadas all screamed hello.

Through my eyes, it truly felt like I had opened the door into summer.

***

It felt like there were cicadas chirping in the back of my mind—like an auditory representation of the bright sunlight streaming in. The buildings in the distance stood out sharply against the sky, their colors distinct but muted. I never really liked the summer season, but I still enjoyed the scenery.

“Nee-chan, what are you doing?” my sister asked dubiously as she spotted me zoning out by the window.

“Mmm… Not much…”

I was thinking back to last summer—the time I buried the dead cicada. I could still remember the warmth of the dirt against my palms. Nearly a full year had passed since I first met Adachi, and yet it still felt like just yesterday. In a blink, we were suddenly second-year high school students, and in eighteen months, we would graduate. Would I go to college after that? Honestly, probably not. So what would I do with my life?

It’s only going to get even more boring from here, isn’t it? Blegh. I let out a sigh.

“Ah, it appears I’ve found both Shimamura-san and Little.”

Yashiro entered the room next, trailing after my sister. These days I passed this oddball in the hall so often, you’d think she had moved in. In fact, most nights she stayed for dinner and a bath. That said, she didn’t sleep here. Whether the word “yet” belonged at the end of that sentence remained to be seen, but for the time being, she always went home at night. And when we woke up the next morning, we’d often find her laying around in the living room.

“Oh, right! Nee-chan, nee-chan! There’s gonna be a festival!”

My sister offered me the stack of flyers she was holding—probably just the ads that always came sandwiched between the pages of the newspaper. I took them and had myself a look. Sitting on top was an advertisement for the very same fireworks festival Tarumi and I were going to. Apparently all the local companies were going to set up stalls there, hence they were having these flyers sent out to every house, regardless of proximity. I looked at the date listed. Pretty sure that’s a weekend.

“What might this be?” Yashiro asked, standing next to my sister and peering at the flyer. She tilted her head. “Fireworks festival? What’s a firework?”

She doesn’t know what fireworks are?

On second thought, Yashiro generally didn’t know about a lot of things. Her utter lack of common knowledge made me wonder if she was from a different country, but on the other hand, she could speak flawless Japanese. Why was the breadth of her knowledge so glaringly inconsistent? It felt like she’d spent her life walking a very narrow tightrope and never straying an inch.

“Nnrgh…” Yashiro paused to contemplate for a moment, then put her face in her hands and pretended to cry.

“No, that’s waterworks,” my sister retorted.

“Something different, then?” She immediately lowered her hands.

“Fireworks are big explodey things with lots of pretty colors!”

“Ah, of course,” she nodded, though it was obvious she didn’t have the first clue. What she did seem to understand, however, was that my sister particularly delighted in explaining things.

“Did you wanna go?” I asked.

“I’ll go with you if you ask me nicely,” my sister told me haughtily. Why is this kid such a brat to me specifically?

“Well, actually, I already kinda agreed to go with a friend, so…”

“Whaaaa?” She rose up on her tiptoes in protest. After an indignant pause, she continued, “What friend?! Noooo!”

Sorry to burst your bubble, but your big sister’s got a life of her own. It sucks, I know. My parents were both lazy bums who couldn’t stand the hassle of crowds, so without me there to babysit her, my sister would never be allowed to go to a night festival.

“I can go with you,” Yashiro offered helpfully (?), with her hands on her hips and her chest thrust out. Thanks, but that doesn’t exactly solve the problem. If anything, it just adds a new one.

As my sister pouted her lips, I scratched my head. Once she started sulking, it would take a lot of work to cheer her up later.

“Okay, uhh…give me a minute.”

Somehow I sensed this wouldn’t go over well, but I decided to ask anyway. I pulled out my phone and navigated to my call history—beep, boop, bip. Two seconds later, Tarumi picked up.

“Shima-chan?! What is it?! What’s going on?!” she blurted out all at once, and I could sense that she had just run full-speed to answer the phone.

“It’s not that urgent. Anyway, hi.”

“Heyo! Is this what I think it is? Rain check?” She sounded restless, though still reasonably calm compared to Adachi. Where Adachi hesitated, Tarumi charged ahead.

“No, no rain check, but it is about the fireworks festival. Can I bring my little sister and…one other?”

There was a pause. Yeah, I had a feeling she wouldn’t like this, I thought to myself as I smiled stiffly. We were friends, yes, but I could tell it would be weird to bring a family member. Besides, we had already planned on it being just the two of us. My sister would just have to suck it up and stay home.

But right as I was about to look back at her—

“What do you mean, one other?” Tarumi asked, her voice hard. Was that the part that worried her? Weirdo.

“Ummm, it’s kind of hard to explain. She’s like…my sister’s friend? I guess?”

Technically I met her first, but…our relationship was really hard to describe.

“Your sister… Right, I forgot you had a sister.”

“Yeah. I think you last saw her years ago when she was a toddler. Remember?”

“Vaguely. I guess she probably wouldn’t remember me, either.”

“Probably not,” I agreed. Back then, my sister would hide in our room whenever Tarumi came over… Wait, but that’s the exact same as she is now. Well, at least it’s cute, I guess. “Soooo, is it cool? If not, that’s okay too, so yeah.”

There would be other night festivals, so I could always take her to something else later on, even if they might not have fireworks. These days they didn’t shoot off as many as they used to, so the opportunity had gotten rarer; that said, this time of year, we usually heard them going off about once a week.

“…Sure, sure. Sounds good, yeah.”

After a pause, she accepted my proposal. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting it. I debated whether to apologize, but it didn’t feel like I’d done anything wrong, so instead I went with “Thanks.”

“Nah, it’s cool. I’m not really…you know…super, like… Basically, I just wanna have a fun time!”

“Yeah?” You don’t have to constantly look on the bright side, you know.

“Uhhh, yeah! Yeah…yeah. No, really, it’s cool. She’s your sister, so…”

So…what? But instead of asking, I thanked her again and moved to hang up. She seemed to sense this.

“Uhhh, Shima-chan! Shima-chan!”

I put the phone back to my ear. The way she repeated my name reminded me of old times.

“I’m really looking forward to this, so don’t forget!”

And with that cutting remark, she hung up. Unlike Adachi, she always committed to a single course of action, which I could appreciate. But it was hard to tell whether her final words were merely an expression of her excitement, or…a warning. Did she really think I would forget to show up? Summer break’s only just started. Trust me, I’m not that far gone, I thought to myself as I looked over my shoulder.

Ignoring Yashiro, who was having fun fake-crying again, I turned to my sister. “Okay, she said you can come.”

“Ohhh!” She exhaled all the air stored in her puffy, pouting cheeks.

“But we’re going with a friend of mine. Are you going to be okay with that?”

My sister was generally pretty aloof with anyone who wasn’t in our immediate family. She nodded slightly.

Here’s hoping she conquers her shyness sometime soon. Otherwise she’ll turn out like—well, hmm. I guess Adachi’s issue isn’t shyness, per se.

“Is it the same friend who stayed over the other day?” she asked. It sounded like she was asking if it was Adachi, although that sleepover had happened quite a while ago, not just the other day.

“No, not her. Someone else.”

“Hmm,” she grunted unenthusiastically. What’s with the attitude?

“Any friend of Shimamura-san’s is a friend of mine,” Yashiro announced with a broad smile. “I am the Friend-Bot! Rat-tat-tat!”

“Whatever…”

Rolling my eyes at her antics, I let my gaze swim into the distant sea, where my past was dead and buried. Whenever something reminded me of my old self, it made me uneasy. Did these things come naturally to her because she was so similar to the old me? Or did I just think she was similar because of the things she said?

Gently, I searched the briny deep for the beginning of the overlap.

***

All throughout my shift, I couldn’t stop thinking about the fireworks festival. That said, I wouldn’t be going as part of the crowd, walking beneath the rainbow of explosions. No, I was going as part of the attraction itself.

Our restaurant, which called itself “neo-Chinese Cuisine,” would be running a food stand there, and the manager had asked me to help. I wanted to say no, but any time I tried, she would always pretend like she suddenly couldn’t understand Japanese. What a jerk, seriously. And so I had no choice but to concede. I just hope I get paid for it.

Still, I hadn’t given any thought to festivals until now. When I thought about summer, my brain jumped straight to the pool and the beach, probably because I had past experience going there. But I had never been to any festival; my relationship with my family wasn’t conducive to that sort of thing. Setting that particular can of worms aside, I decided to contemplate the idea of me and Shimamura going to a festival together.

The thought added a flood of light to my already-dazzling visions of summer. Beyond the window, even the shimmering heat haze rising from the tarmac looked beautiful. Just like that, my horizons were broadened, and I could appreciate all the little details I never noticed before. A tiny dose of optimism gave me the tolerance of a saint.

After my shift ended, my manager came waddling over to me like a penguin. “You have to come. Okay?”

“…Okay.”

If only I didn’t have to work, I could have invited Shimamura…but if it wasn’t for my job, I wouldn’t have remembered that festivals were a thing at all. It was a total catch-22—flawless and frustrating. Every now and then, I wished I could live my life as a series of happy moments and discard all the rest. Greedy, I know.

“By the way, what are we selling?”

“Chicken karaage.”

“Oh, right.”

Our chicken karaage was long and thin, like little clubs. I sincerely had no idea what part of it was “neo-Chinese.”

After I changed back into my street clothes, I stayed behind in the air-conditioned changing room and pulled out my phone. It was time to call Shimamura. Normally I always sent an email ahead of time to get permission, but this time I decided to skip that step and see what happened.

As I waited for her to pick up, my fingers started to tingle from nervousness. This was my idea of being adventurous. And after a moment, that thrill came in for a landing.

“Yes, yes, hello?”

“Oh…”

Shimamura. Shimamura’s voice! My shoulders jumped. To me, she was an oasis in the desert; for better or for worse, the pain and palpitations breathed life back into this empty husk I called my body.

“Gah! Hey!” she scolded.

“Huh? Wh-what?!” My eyes widened.

“Oh, sorry, the kids are messing with me,” she explained. “Hey! Quit trying to climb on my head!”

Something was going on over there. Kids, plural? If it wasn’t just her sister, then maybe that weird blue-haired girl was there, too. How were they climbing on her head? Clinging to her back or something? I didn’t like the sound of that, no matter who was involved. Put bluntly, I—

“Behave yourself, got it?”

“Okay.” I shrank into myself.

“No, not you, Adachi…although you probably should.”

“Wha?!”

“I’m joking. So what’s up?”

Her voice grew softer; it caressed my ears and made my heart race until I was dizzy. Whatever happened to the version of me who could hold a conversation with Shimamura without getting flustered?

“Uhhh…I was wondering how you were doing…” I didn’t have the courage to leap straight into the fireworks festival thing, so instead I chickened out.

“Eh, I’m doing okay. Just so-so. It’s so hot, I don’t wanna do anything, you know?”

I could hear the sound of something bouncing on the floor while someone else shouted, “I’m doing great, thank you!”

“Yes, yes, whatever you say. Anyway, how are you, Adachi?”

“I’m…doing great, thank you,” I replied in a less-than-enthusiastic imitation of the other voice. She snorted quietly, and it made my cheeks flush.

“Have you been doing the homework?”

“Huh? We had homework?”

“Nope!”

She burst out laughing. Later, I would realize she was treating me like her kid sister.

“I just got off work,” I explained.

“Ohhh, I see. You still go in during the summer, huh? You’re a real hard worker. Hard to believe you were ever a delinquent,” she teased. Was I, though?

“So anyway…er…not that I have much else to talk about, but…”

“Well, however much it is, lay it on me.”

I was so bad at transitioning between topics. I lacked the glue to stick them together. No, wait—maybe I used too much glue, you know, in a really forced, obvious way. I knew it was awkward, but I had already put it out there, so now I had to roll with it.

“Not right now or anything, but…sometime soon…”

“Yeah?”

“Would you want to, um, go to a festival with me?”

That really came out of nowhere, my last shred of objectivity informed me. There was a pause, like Shimamura wasn’t sure how to respond.

“When you say festival, by any chance, do you mean the fireworks festival that’s coming up?”

“Yeah… Uhhh, I mean, no! It doesn’t have to be that soon—sometime in the future is all!” Not like I can go to that one anyway. I mean, I am going, but not in a fun way. “Summer break’s only just started, so uh…let’s figure out a day when we’re both free or…something…”

She hadn’t even confirmed that she wanted to go, so I was completely getting ahead of myself. Belatedly, I realized that I was hovering halfway out of my chair. As I waited for her answer, the sound of my own breathing grated on my ears, rough and heavy.

“…Okay, sure. Let’s make a plan to go sometime.”

My jaw dropped in abject delight as warmth flooded my chest. Something in my core was set aflame. “Okay, cool… Oh, and it doesn’t have to have fireworks. Just a regular festival would be fine…”

“Yep, I know. I know how it is with you.”

“What? Uh…y-you do? Really?”

It was weird to think Shimamura understood me. It was embarrassing, but also kind of nice—entirely separate from the feeling I got when I understood her.

We talked for a little longer after that. Then she told me it was dinnertime, so I reluctantly ended the call. Fatigue and accomplishment weighed on my shoulders like I’d just finished running a marathon.

I straightened my posture as I looked down at my phone. Judging from my shoulders and cheeks, I was laughing—hopefully not in a creepy way, I thought to myself, and yet I made no attempt to rein it in.

Lately, I spent every day in the pursuit of Shimamura. Like a bird, I circled just overhead, waiting all day for the chance to alight upon her shoulders. And when it finally happened, I would fly off again with the hopes of one day returning home to nest.

She was my goal—my start and finish line. Maybe it was too big of an exaggeration to say that she was my life support, but if so, she was still inarguably my guiding light.

This laughter was all the proof I needed.

***

“I want to paint you.”

I already wasn’t expecting Tarumi to call me, and I certainly wasn’t expecting her first words to be…that. For some reason, I’d anticipated that we wouldn’t speak to each other for another three days, when she would probably get in touch to arrange our meetup spot for the fireworks festival. So as a result, I hesitated slightly. Never mind why I was having this emotional reaction—what on earth was she talking about? Painting?

“Uhh…go ahead?”

“No, no, no! I can’t paint you unless we meet up. So what I’m saying is: let’s hang out, pretty please!” she explained casually. Oh, so this is your excuse. Got it.

“What kind of ‘painting’ do you mean? Like, on a canvas, or—?”

“Yeah, that.”

“…And you want to paint me?”

“Exactly.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah.”

I glanced outside at the clear blue sky. A tidal wave of light attacked my eyes, making me squint. She really wanted to paint in this weather? Pretty hardcore.

“…Okay.”

And so there I was at the designated meetup spot: Nagara River, underneath the Kinka Bridge. I had traveled over this bridge a fair few times, looking down at the fishermen as I passed, but it had been years since I set foot on the rocky riverbed myself. The pebbles glowed gold in the sunshine, clacking beneath my shoes as I walked.

With every step, I half-wondered if the sun would fry my legs from behind. But the temperature was colder down here, as if to remind me that I was at a lower elevation. Here by the water, the lukewarm wind left me wanting; as it swirled around me, a symphony rattled up from the rocks, both thrilling and grating all at once. This was summer, burning itself into my skin.

As I walked, I gazed into the distance. From the shore, I had a perfect view of Mount Kinka and Gifu Castle. How old was I the last time I took that ropeway? The older my sister got, the rarer those kinds of trips became.

Tarumi was already here, setting up her canvas on the riverbed. Wow, she’s got an easel and everything, I thought to myself, mildly impressed. I was kinda expecting this to be more of a casual thing… Oh, boy. I reached up and grabbed the brim of my hat.

Truth be told, part of me would have appreciated a little more time to get ready, seeing as I was going to be an art model. I didn’t have time to style my hair, so I threw this hat on to hide it, and when I realized how hot it was outside, I instantly knew there was no point in putting on makeup—I would only end up sweating it all off on the walk here. Still, I kinda wished I’d brought a mirror. I don’t have sleep in my eyes, do I?

“Oh! Shima-chan!”

Tarumi spotted me and raised a hand in greeting; likewise, I returned it. Then I walked around to get a look at the canvas. Unsurprisingly, it was blank. But by the end of the day, a picture of me would be right there… The thought made me bashful.

“Sorry to spring this on you.”

“It’s okay. I was bored anyway.”

Her pale skin suggested she had yet to spend much time in the summer sun. But though she was wearing long sleeves, she wasn’t wearing a hat…and for some reason, when I thought of her getting a tan, it felt like such a crying shame.

“Here.” She offered me a black parasol. “Since the sun’s so bright, I thought I’d paint you holding a parasol.”

“How very considerate of you.”

The parasol was styled like a black lily; I held it low, just over my hair. This particular parasol had prioritized form over function, and it didn’t do much to block out the sun at all.

“Ooh, you look great,” Tarumi remarked almost immediately—too quickly to feel genuine.

“You think so?”

“Yeah… But then again, if you ask me, you can make just about anything look good, so I guess I’m biased,” she replied hastily, all in a single breath. Then she went back to setting up her easel. Maybe this was her way of saying: I’m just being nice, so don’t read too much into it.

“Ha ha ha!” I could appreciate her honesty.

I started to back away from the easel, but she stopped me. “Where are you going?”

Then I looked around and spotted a folding chair set up nearby.

“Sorry, but my eyesight kinda sucks. I need you to stay close or else I won’t be able to see all your little details.”

“Oh, okay.”

What little details? I wondered. Nevertheless, I did as instructed and sat down on the folding chair. Then I faced the river with my back turned to the shore. The sunshine reflected off the water and directly into my eyes; this mass of light was only slightly swayed by the fishermen casting their lines.

“A chair and a parasol… Maybe I should have dressed up in more fancy clothes.”

Not that I actually owned any fancy clothes. Hino probably had some… Well, fancy kimonos, at least. As I sat there, I twirled the parasol by the handle, making the flower-shaped shadow dance above my head.

Then, finally, Tarumi picked up her paintbrush and looked past her canvas at me. The thought that this was going to last for hours upon hours made my neck itchy. I couldn’t even turn my head.

“Okay, here I go!” she announced, as if she was going to pitch a softball.

“Bring it!” I replied, like a catcher.

Not exactly the most artsy conversation we could have had, but still, it felt…seasonally appropriate, I guess? To me, summer was the season of fun, while winter was all serious and solemn.

Then, without taking her eyes off me, Tarumi started to move her brush. Shouldn’t you watch what you’re doing? I wondered. But the moment I made eye contact with her, she hid back behind the canvas like she was Adachi.

Why did it feel like I attracted a very specific type of person? Adachi, Tarumi, my sister… I didn’t have enough hands for all three of them, so I could only pray that there would never come a day that all four of us would end up in the same place.

“I didn’t know you were an artist, Taru-chan,” I commented as I gazed at the art supplies littered around her feet.

“Well, I only started last week.”

That explains that, I guess. “You’re a real go-getter, huh?” No clue if I was using that word correctly at all.

“It’ll be fine, I promise. We used to do art stuff together all the time, remember?”

“Uhh…you mean how we used to doodle on old flyers and stuff?”

As far as I could recall, Tarumi only ever drew birds, and I mostly drew candy. Perhaps this symbolized the core differences in our personalities or whatever.

“Yeah, see? There’s no chance my Shima-chan painting will turn out bad…” She shot her model a quick glance. “Hopefully.”

“That would be ideal.”

We shared a giggle, and I twirled my parasol, spinning the faint traces of sunlight over my head. Tarumi watched it spin, then went back to painting. You can’t blame your model if your art turns out bad, Taru-chan.

If she started a week ago…that would be right at the start of summer vacation.

“Is this your summer hobby…?”

Thinking back over my memories of elementary school, I averted my eyes and laughed. Meanwhile, the river drifted silently by. After days and days of sunny weather, the neighborhood creek was now shallow enough that you could see the bottom, but not this beast.

In three days’ time, this whole area would come to life, and we would be smack-dab in the middle of it. I’d have to pay attention to make sure the little ones wouldn’t get lost—would I even have time to watch any fireworks? Had they changed at all since the last time I saw them, years and years ago? My sister was getting older, the fireworks were getting better, and my high school days were halfway spent… I could really feel the passage of time.

“That reminds me! I remembered,” Tarumi called out to me as she moved her brush across the canvas.

“Remembered what?”

“About your sister…or more accurately, about you.” She peeked at me, the tips of her curls swaying gently in the river breeze. “Just that you’ve always been a good sister.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. I remember you always took good care of her.”

She spoke in a soft, wistful tone that made my back itch. No matter how beautiful the memory, it meant nothing to me if I couldn’t remember it myself.

“…If you say so.”

What did she mean by “took good care of her”? I couldn’t recall. The only memories I had of the past were fragmented, like old, torn-up photographs. Naturally, there wasn’t much I remembered about my sister specifically, though I could remember firmly believing that it was my sworn duty as the older sister to protect her. Did my parents teach me that, or did I pick it up from somewhere else?

Looking at it in the abstract, I wasn’t sure what qualified as taking good care of someone. It wasn’t as simple as a hug, that much was for sure.

“Oh, and if you get thirsty, let me know.”

Tarumi reached down and grabbed a plastic bottle sitting directly on the ground. The label was bright blue, but the contents looked like barley tea; I could see a block of ice in the center, so she must have frozen it in advance. She was so thoughtful and considerate, I was impressed. Adachi was capable of being considerate, too, of course, but she always took it a little too far—probably overthinking things, if I had to guess. It made me laugh, and I always quietly looked forward to it whenever we hung out.

“Huh? Was it something I said?”

“What?”

“You’re smirking again.”

She used her fingers to stretch her lips into an exaggerated smile. C’mon, surely I don’t look THAT weird…do I?

“It’s nothing. Just remembered something funny.”

I vaguely remembered having this same conversation at some point in the past. What was I doing, slipping off into my own little world in front of other people? I’d better get my act together before I turn into Adachi. After that, I sat there with a perfectly straight face, like a proper model.

“Shima-chan, your face is turning red. Is the heat getting to you?”

“Oh, no…yeah.”

I had strained my face so much that now Tarumi was worried about me. I could vaguely feel myself getting dumber and dumber but chose to blame it on the weather instead. Stupid sunshine melting my brain.

On the other side of the shore, kids rode on their bikes, breathing in that sweltering air. No parasols in sight, destined for a sunburn. They had already adapted to summer.

While she worked, Tarumi made small talk about a variety of subjects, possibly to keep me from getting bored; I was impressed she had the skill to talk and paint at the same time. And when I asked her why she suddenly got into painting, she told me…

“Well, I needed something that could bring us together, ahem. I mean, that’s part of it. But yeah, I just wanted to immortalize you while there was still time. Never know when we might not see each other again, y’know? I mean, obviously I’m gonna make an effort to prevent that, but sometimes there’s just no amount of effort that can solve the problem. So if that’s how things turn out, then…I’d like to make sure I have a memento.”

“…Interesting.”

Admittedly, part of me was inclined to agree. The two of us were always on good terms, and yet life pulled us apart regardless. Perhaps our connection wasn’t a strong enough adhesive to hold us together…and if so, then Tarumi had just clarified what her choice would be when push came to shove. It gave me a lot to think about.

Perhaps it was the happy memories that reminded us of what mattered most. Maybe that was what kept us plowing ahead without looking over our shoulders.

As she spoke, I followed the sun’s trajectory and wondered if this would end before it got dark. Then again, summer days were generally pretty long, so we were probably good on time. And in the end, it didn’t take that long at all. I wasn’t watching the clock, so I couldn’t say for sure, but I estimate it took about two or three hours total.

Thank god it’s over.

“Well, I finished it…” Tarumi smiled awkwardly. On closer inspection, I could see her facial muscles twitching. “Wanna see?”

This was quite possibly the scariest question she had ever asked me. “It’s not, like, brain-bleach levels of bad, right?”

“Well, I don’t think so… I hope not…”

I couldn’t tell if she just wasn’t feeling confident or if she sincerely thought it turned out badly, but either way, my morbid curiosity won out. Not like she went all out and turned me into some crazy monster with seven mouths…probably.

I rose to my feet, and the heat that had settled against the back of my legs melted away. Then I shivered as it trickled down to my shoes. Slowly, I walked around to the opposite side of the easel to take in Master Tarumi’s latest masterpiece… “Wha?”

The level of quality was so far beyond what I expected, it threw me for a loop.

“What’s wrong?”

“Uhh…I’m trying to figure out how to word this in a way that isn’t offensive…”

“Wow, thanks!”

“…Your art is so good, I regret ever thinking it wouldn’t be.”

It was so perfect, anyone could tell at a glance that it was me—my hairstyle, the parasol, the chair, all of it. I pointed at each part in turn like it was one of those “spot the difference” puzzles. She had captured the texture of my hair, the proportions of the parasol, the shading of the chair… It was nothing like the doodles I would scribble during class. Was this really her skill level just one week in? I scrutinized her for a moment.

“Taru-chan, are you a prodigy or something?”

“Naw! Hah hah!”

Why are you talking like a hick all of a sudden?

She started coughing, then averted her eyes. “You got me. To be completely honest…I didn’t start a week ago.”

“Really?”

She scratched her neck awkwardly. “I actually started practicing back when we first reunited last winter. I have a photo we took together a long time ago, so I used that as a reference, and…yeah. Sorry.”

Frankly, it was such a harmless lie that I didn’t really see the need for her to apologize…but now it all clicked. “Okay, that explains it.” I looked back at my painted self.

“Explains what?”

“Well…my face here looks kinda young.”

My expression was so innocent, you could mistake me for Yashiro—the kind of wide-eyed naiveté that would make wiser people concerned. But this expression was no longer part of my repertoire. Was she even looking at the real me this entire time? Or did I sit there and sweat buckets for no reason? Still, even if her painting left me with more questions than answers, it was a great piece of art all the same.

“Thanks for making me look good,” I told her as I handed the overly cutesy caricature back to her. Perhaps everybody looked at their friends with rose-colored glasses.

“Huh? No, no!” She shook her head aggressively.

“What, you don’t think I look good?” I teased.

“No, it’s not that. I mean, like…the real Shima-chan is…um…f-far cuter than I could possibly capture! Or whatever!” she blurted at the ground.

That’s a compliment, right? Or whatever?

“I’m just trying to…close the…gap.”

She looked up, her eyes wide and her chin thrust out—not the most flattering expression. But it was with that momentum that she enveloped my hand in hers.

“Could I ask you to model for me again sometime? I want to keep painting you until I get it exactly right.”

A passionate plea made hand in hand… It was enough to make me sweat all over again. Her eyes looked damp with some kind of emotion.

“Uh…sure.” Overwhelmed by her…enthusiasm (?)…I nodded.

I was tempted to ask “why me?” but didn’t want to be rude. There was so much in this town—tons of people, tons of things—and yet somehow Tarumi had chosen me. I couldn’t claim to understand it, but I figured it probably wasn’t as deep as I was making it out to be.

She seemed to intuit that she was cooking me alive, because she pulled her hand away. “Oh, yeah, would you wanna get ice cream on the way home? If you want,” she suggested, her voice cracking.

A cool treat to beat the heat. “Yeah, sounds good.” I could feel my face light up like fireworks, as if I were a little kid who had patiently endured some boring social function solely in hopes of a sugary reward. Honestly, not that far off, I guess.

After Tarumi packed up all her stuff, the two of us headed back up the riverbank. Halfway up, the rays of the sinking sun pressed against my shoulder with a palpable weight, as if gravity itself had learned to shine. It was an illusion unique to the summer season, and for a moment, I reeled.

“Shima-chan?”

I stopped short, and Tarumi looked back at me. After a pause, I smiled.

“Just taking in the summer, that’s all.”

Arms outstretched, I turned around to face the bright, humid sky. Playfully, I reached out and swung my arms like I was trying to claw at it. I could feel the wind beneath my nails… Then again, for all I knew, maybe that was just what it felt like to touch the sky.

***

It was around noon that day when I realized I had forgotten something back in the classroom. It wasn’t a catastrophic mistake by any means, but still—I froze for a moment, holding my book bag.

What had I forgotten, you ask? My notebook. Honestly, you might wonder why I even bothered to bring a notebook on the last day of the semester, but this was no ordinary notebook—it was my Shimamura Notes. And based on that name, I trust you can guess what kind of stuff was written inside.

Since school was out for summer vacation, the chances of anyone going to the classroom and inadvertently finding it were next to nil. And yet…on the off chance anyone read its contents… No, not just anyone; I didn’t care about all those other people. But if, in some cruel twist of fate, Shimamura herself were to read it, I would literally die. Steam would leak from my ears, and then my head would explode. No exaggeration.

Especially that one part! I thought to myself as I mentally reviewed the notebook’s contents. The memory was enough to make my heart flutter; my eyes widened, unblinking. I’d only brought it with me because I knew Shimamura would be at the closing ceremony, which in turn was my downfall.

So what do I do? Go back to get it, or leave it there until Monday?

I knew the campus remained open to students for club activities, but would the same apply to the school building? Would they let me in with a teacher’s permission? I’d never tried to go to school during a break, so I didn’t know how it worked, and I didn’t know anyone I could ask, either. As I agonized back and forth over what to do about it, I found myself automatically getting ready to leave the house. Apparently I’ve decided I’m going, I thought to myself like an outside observer. And so I decided to save the thinking for later.

As usual, no one else was home. So I locked up the empty house and headed off on my bike, just like always…but a few minutes of sunshine later, I started wishing I’d worn a hat. Why does summer have to be so hot? I thought to myself like an idiot. Summer nights were superior in every way. All I really needed was festival lights, and…Shimamura beside me, hopefully.

While I was out, I figured I’d take the scenic route—not that I was really planning to scope the place out or anything. But nonetheless, I steered away from my usual path to school and took a detour to the street overlooking the river, where the festival was scheduled to be held this weekend. At night, the sidewalks would be lined with festival stands in summery colors, and I would be working at one of them.

Honestly, it had been a long time since I took part in a festival in any capacity. Last time was a family outing, and I didn’t remember much except for the sweltering crowds—no memories of sparkling fireworks. I wasn’t apathetic to them, but…those stray sparks just didn’t ignite inside me.

Now, however, my heart soared at the thought of a fireworks festival. We didn’t have any concrete plans yet, and sadly we wouldn’t be able to meet up at the big one happening this weekend, but still I yearned for it. Shimamura had changed me.

Reflexively, I stopped the bike and pictured what it would be like to go to a festival with her. Ignoring the sun’s rays beating down on me, I hopped off.

“Right here, just like this…”

I gestured into the empty air to establish my pretend-Shimamura. In a blink, I could hallucinate that it was night, with food stands positioned with their backs to the river. God, I’m terminal.

Shimamura and I would walk along side by side, but it would be so crowded, we would be forced to hold hands so we wouldn’t get separated. I would probably initiate it, and Shimamura would allow it with a weary smile. The sleeves of our yukatas would brush up against each other, and I would feel the soles of my feet throbbing.

Now and then we’d reach up and touch our matching hairpins as we walked along the dimly lit street. Following the fuzzy light of the festival lanterns, we would follow the flow of people—and thanks to the density of the crowd, we’d be one step closer than usual. Every now and then, our shoulders would touch.

With her hair in an updo, Shimamura’s bare neck would change her entire aesthetic…and I would find myself both perplexed and bewitched by it. Then, as she smiled faintly, a beam of light would shoot up in the distance behind her. Fireworks would pop off one after another, and we would be dyed in the mingled colors of the crossing sparks. This would be the true foundation of summer…more beautiful than any makeup Shimamura could possibly wear…

I could practically hear the cry of the cicadas, even though there was nary a tree in sight. I was sweating buckets the entire time I was dreaming up all that; the sunlight seared my eyes, adding a green tint to everything around me. Reality was cooking me alive.

And so I swiftly returned to my bike.

But even as I set off once more, thoughts of the festival still lingered in my mind. What would I wear? Summer festivals usually meant yukatas, right? I decided I’d stop by the mall on the way home to buy one—better safe than sorry, after all. As much as I wanted to see Shimamura in a yukata, I could already foresee it being “too much hassle” for her. Would she go to that effort if I asked her to? Maybe… No, maybe not… It was hard to say.

By the riverside, in addition to a few fishermen, I could see a girl standing at a canvas. I was too far away to see much, but it looked like she had another girl modeling for her, holding a black parasol and gazing out at the river. I don’t think I could do that in this heat, I thought to myself, mildly impressed. Then I turned my attention ahead of me.

I thought I recognized the girl at the canvas, but couldn’t immediately place her, so I just shrugged it off. Evidently she wasn’t that important—but then again, how many people in my life really were? Was there even any point to counting them on one hand?

Eventually I completed the long detour and arrived at the high school, my hair burning hot. I could hear the shouts of some sports team, followed a beat later by the wail of the cicadas that had evidently set up camp in the trees. Unlike my house, where it was faint, it sounded like an entire orchestra here, ringing out back and forth over my head.

I passed through the front gates and parked my bike in the designated bike parking area, just like I would on a school day. Because it was summer break, naturally, the spots were all open for the taking, but nevertheless, I parked in our class-designated section. Generally speaking, my brain always sacrificed efficiency for the comfort of routine. Maybe it was just part of my personality.

After my bike was taken care of, I crept along the side of the building, concealing myself from the athletic field. Not sure why I felt the need to do this, since it really didn’t matter if anyone saw me, but regardless, I arrived at the front entrance to the school building. I hadn’t contacted any of the teachers, but I figured I could always track one down. Experimentally, I grabbed the handle.

The door was heavy, but surprisingly enough, it opened without any trouble. For a moment I pushed it back and forth, marveling at my own success. Then I looked to my left—nobody. I looked to my right—nobody. Just loud, whiny cicadas. I didn’t know if I was allowed to go in, but I could go in.

So in I went.

At the shoe lockers, I took my shoes off—but instead of switching them out for my indoor shoes, I simply carried them in one hand and walked to the stairs in my socks. Then, at the second-floor landing, I tucked my shoes under my arm and crouched down as I passed by the window. I felt like a burglar, and if anyone saw me they would probably think the same thing, so I moved quickly.

Nobody was on the stairs, and nobody was in the hallway. As I crept along in silence, the view outside the window almost didn’t feel real. The soundless blue sky and drifting clouds looked more like a painting someone had hung for me in advance.

It was that moment that I realized: As uncomfortable as I was spending every minute of my life in large groups, “school” really couldn’t exist without all the students and teachers. Without them, this was just another building.

As I snuck along in my socks, I could hear sounds other than my own footsteps—the ambient noise of indoor clubs on other floors. Oh, of course. That must be why the front door’s unlocked, I thought to myself as I hurried faster. I didn’t know if this was a policy shared by all the other high schools, but it seemed a little unsafe. Not that there was much worth stealing, but still, weirdos could get in. Weirdos like me.

Then I arrived at the classroom, and when I slid open the door, the hot, pent-up air came flooding out to greet me. Assaulted by the humidity of summer, I could practically feel the moisture as I wiped my face.

The temperature difference between the classroom and the hallway was actually pretty astounding, considering there was only a single flimsy door in the way. If it kept building and building, would it spontaneously combust? Then I realized: No, summer break wasn’t long enough for that to happen. While the summer heat often felt eternal, the faint chill of autumn usually whisked it away before too long.

Alone, I cut across the classroom to my desk and crouched down, twisting my body to get a look inside. Sure enough, my notebook was right where I left it. No sign that anyone had messed with it, either. Thank god.

To make sure, I flipped through it and arrived at the most dangerous passage. The memory of it was enough to throttle my heart, and when I saw it in person, I reeled. There could be no doubt: If Shimamura read this, my head would absolutely explode. It was so far beyond just “embarrassing.” Worse than that, an utter nightmare would unfold afterward—put simply, Shimamura would think I was a creep and start avoiding me. These days, that was my biggest fear…probably because it was so much more realistic than my own death.

I closed the notebook. This would be the last time I was ever parted from it; I’d just have to be extra careful to make sure this situation never happened again. After that silent vow, I turned and headed out of the room.

A few steps later, I came to a stop at Shimamura’s desk and peered inside to see if she’d forgotten anything. But there was nothing inside, not even dust. As I was lifting my head, however, something came to mind.

“That reminds me…”

It was something we’d talked about a long time ago, up in the gym loft. Back then, believe it or not, I could actually hold a conversation like a normal person. Now I felt like someone else entirely…but I digress.

“I’ve always wanted to pull a little prank in an empty classroom,” Shimamura had said to me. At the time, I shrugged it off with an absent “Hmm,” but there was nothing I could shrug off about Shimamura now. As I thought back to bygone days, I folded my arms. What sort of prank was she talking about, anyway? The only “prank” she had ever pulled on me was that time she rested her chin on my head. Unless my skull was suddenly made of Play-Doh, this was probably not something I could achieve on my own.

I thought long and hard, weaving my way between the desks. Apparently pacing was a habit of mine whenever I needed to think. But like my feet, my brain only ever went in circles. After a long moment of walking, the dripping sweat gave me pause.

There was no rule saying it had to be a prank. What if I thought about Shimamura in the abstract?

If Shimamura were here, what would she be thinking right now? The inner workings of her mind were generally a total mystery to me, so I paused to really consider it.

I worked hard every day to understand her; that’s what my Shimamura Notes were for. That said, it did feel like I ended up overthinking things a lot of the time.

A sweltering haze ran along my jaw. I reached up to touch it…and found my answer.

If Shimamura were here, she would notice the heat and take action to fix it.

With that realization, my legs moved on autopilot to the windows. Then I flung them open, one by one, to improve the air circulation in the room. Technically it counted as a prank, too, so it was killing two birds with one stone. Not that I was planning to leave them open or anything.

I backed away from the windows and walked to the center of the classroom. As if on cue, all the sounds from outside streamed in, and I could feel the air current rampage against my skin, swirling around the newly opened space.

One more prank for the road.

I sat down on a desk, my legs splayed out. This was something I could never get away with if other people were here. Following gravity’s pull, I sank into myself and let out a heavy sigh. I could hear my blood pumping in my ears… If Shimamura were here, would she smile at me?

Then a cloud slipped over the sun. For a brief moment, the heat waned, and shadows streamed over the floor in place of the light. At that exact moment, the limp curtains began to sway faintly, informing me that the wind had come. I spread my arms wide and savored as much of it as I could. It was only lukewarm, but still I breathed it in, praying it would lighten my burden as it impatiently raced off to the future ahead.

And then, on the day of the festival, I gazed into the deep blue.

***

“Tonight we’re probably gonna eat something while we’re out, so don’t worry about making dinner for us,” I told my mother as she grated up the ginger for our lunch. Ugh, we’re having soumen noodles again? I know Dad got some as a gift, but how much more of it can there possibly be?

Meanwhile, my mother did a little victory dance. “You’re going with her, right?” she asked my little sister.

“Uh huh,” she nodded.

My mother let out a strange, wistful sigh. “You know, I’m impressed you’re willing to subject yourself to those crowds in this heat.”

Tell me about it.

“Well, we can’t see the fireworks from our house…”

“You can still hear them, though, can’t you? Whatever. You’re in charge, Onee-chan,” my mother teased, cruelly patting me on the shoulder.

She was doing this on purpose, knowing how I felt about it. She was a heartless witch. And lately her pats hit harder than ever, probably because she was constantly going to the local sports gym.

“Come to think of it, would you kids wanna wear yukatas?” She stretched her arms wide, swaying her imaginary long sleeves.

“What for?”

“People always wear them at festivals, remember?”

“Ohhh, right. Hmmm.”

Wearing a yukata struck me as trying too hard, so I was somewhat…resistant to the idea. Something was holding me back, though I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.

“Ooh, I wanna wear one!” my sister shouted, raising her hand.

Yashiro glanced around at us, then raised both hands to join in. “Wooooo!”

Oh. Didn’t even see you there. “For the record, yukatas do not involve free candy.”

“…Wooooo…” Her hands slowly retracted.

“Do we even own any yukatas?”

“Of course we do,” my mother replied, putting a sassy hand on her hip. “I have some I used to wear when I was younger. They’ve been in storage, so they should be just fine…I think…?”

She seemed to rapidly lose confidence, because she hurried off to the room with the clothing drawers in it. Then, in a blink, she was back again—clearly the gym had improved her speed, too. She was carrying two yukatas all folded up, red sitting on top of turquoise. I couldn’t make out their patterns, but the colors looked time-worn and dull.

“I made sure to put some mothballs in with ’em, so they should be fine…in theory.”

“Why do you have to sabotage your own statements every time…?”

She handed the stack to my sister, who unfurled the red one and squealed in delight.

“What strange attire you people have,” Yashiro commented as she peeked at it from the side. No weirder than your hat, kid.

The hat in question was tall, thin, and made of what looked like woven twigs. Through the gaps, I could see bright green leaves and vines; real or fake, I couldn’t tell. Paired with the color of her hair, she looked like a character out of a fairy tale. So what was she doing standing in our kitchen, eating our rice crackers?

“Wanna wear one, Yachi?”

“Yes, perhaps it would be a good idea to learn more about Earthling culture.”

Without missing a beat, Yashiro attempted to snatch the red yukata from her, but my sister deftly dodged. “You look better in cool colors!”

“That is simply not true.”

“It simply is true! You’ll see! Now try the blue one!”

“Gyaaaah!”

My sister unfurled the turquoise yukata and started to chase her around. Neither of them were trying very hard; they ran in circles, out into the hall, then back in again. Frankly, I wouldn’t be caught dead doing exercise in this heat. I already broke a sweat purely by existing in the absence of a fan.

As my mother watched the two girls chase each other around, she started to murmur loudly to herself. “Hrrrmmm…”

“What’s up?” I asked.

“That girl runs exactly like you did.”

“……”

“I’m talking about when you were younger. Don’t you remember?”

“…No,” I lied. My forehead felt faintly flushed.

“You were so cute back then.”

“Gosh, Mom, you make it sound like I’m not cute anymore.”

“Nope.”

She agreed without even cracking a smile. Kinda wish she…you know…took hints.

“Maybe now you can get your act together.”

Oh, stuff a sock in it.

“So did you wanna wear a yukata, too?”

“I’ll pass. I think I’m just gonna wear my casual clothes.”

Honestly speaking, my stance wasn’t much different from my mom’s—I was content just zoning out in my room and listening to the pops and crackles in the distance. Sure, I couldn’t see the colors, but my imagination could fill in the blanks.

“Kids, come on back! It’s time to eat your noodles!”

“Comiiiing!”

Yashiro ran back into the room, now wearing the turquoise yukata. That was fast. Sure enough, it looked a lot better on her than the red one would have. She sat down at our kitchen table like she lived here. “These hiyamugi noodles are always a treat.”

They’re not hiyamugi, they’re—well, whatever. Same difference.

And so I passed the time watching the red kid and the turquoise kid run around, occasionally getting dragged into their games. Then, before I knew it, evening had fallen. As I sprayed myself with mosquito repellent, I discovered I already had a bug bite on the side of my thigh; the instant I scratched it, it started to itch. Well, that backfired.

Outside, the cicadas were screaming tirelessly. The sky still carried faint traces of afternoon blue, but now an equally blue moon hung there right along with it. Without a halo of light around it, I could see all the craters on its surface. During the season when the sun always overstayed its welcome, the moon and I saw a lot of each other. It felt…closer somehow. I kept looking up at it, half-expecting it to come crashing down.

Ever since I was a kid, I had always wanted to go to space at least once in my lifetime—so I could take the world’s most perfect nap, right there in zero gravity. What would I perceive once I was unchained from solid ground?

Buried under the sweltering, oppressive heat of summer, I could only reach the moon in flights of fancy.

Beside me, Yashiro promptly took my hand and squeezed tight, crushing the weakest part of my heart with her soft fingers. She was so trusting—innocent in the truest sense of the word—and touching her felt like plunging my hand into fresh spring water. Heck, she even had the color scheme to match. Had this self-styled “alien” touched the moon with that same hand?

I glanced down at my free hand, then offered it in the opposite direction. “Here.”

Sure enough, my sister looked up at me. “Wh-what’s that for?!” she protested. Her red yukata was patterned with dancing butterflies, and with her hair up, she looked much more mature than usual. Key word: looked.

As I waited with my hand extended, eventually she timidly accepted. It reminded me of fishing, which brought to mind memories of Hino hauling up her latest catch at the fishing hole. “Got one!” I declared, raising my prize high in the air.

“Grraaahh!” She launched a headbutt at my derriere.

“I’m punishing you for that.”

“Grraaahh!”

As for what kind of punishment it was, I’ll leave that to your imagination.

Afterward, the three of us set off down the street. We had a long way to go to reach the river where the festival was located; if our house were closer to the train station, we could have taken a bus or something, but it felt lazy somehow.

“That reminds me…”

Something like this had happened last winter, too. I vaguely remembered bumping into Hino at the time. What about this festival? Would she be there? If so, Nagafuji was sure to be with her.

The two of them were truly joined at the hip. Did they ever get sick of each other’s faces? Voices? Mannerisms? Did their friendship ever feel exhausting? Or was I just a heartless monster for having those thoughts? Then again, I never got sick of my family, so maybe Hino and Nagafuji saw each other as an extension of that.

Man, that’s wild. I didn’t know any relationship could extend past family.

After Hino and Nagafuji, the next person to come to mind was Adachi. Maybe I should have invited her? I thought about it for a moment, then looked down at my hands.

“Hmmm.”

Once she found out Tarumi and the kids were going to be there, she probably would’ve declined.

Though it didn’t really feel like it, I had known Adachi for a full year now, and I had a decent grasp on the way her mind worked. She was completely antisocial, and whenever someone like that joined a group of normal people, it made both sides miserable. But she understood this about herself, so you could say she was a fairly conscientious person.

Nevertheless, she seemingly always wanted my attention. Maybe she had an easier time relating to me more than anyone else. Why had she taken such a liking to me? I could try to ask her, of course, but I could already foresee her panicked gaze darting in all directions as she stammered. It made me chuckle to myself.

And so I decided to adopt a laid-back stance. Sure, maybe I didn’t invite her this time around, but we’d have other opportunities to go to a festival together. We already talked about it, and there was still plenty of summer left to be had. Besides, it would be such a waste of a perfectly good vacation to cram every day full of plans. Summer break had only just started, after all.

Honestly, I felt this way every year, and yet the last day of vacation always snuck up on me out of nowhere. It was tragic.

As we steadily drew closer to the festival venue at the river, the flow of people began to merge onto one street. As I gazed around, I was surprised to notice that a lot of people were wearing yukatas—practically all of the girls, in fact. Then I looked down at myself. Uh-oh. Like a fool, I was dressed in a plain T-shirt and shorts in anticipation of the heat.

Oh, well. More importantly, it was starting to get crowded. “Hold tight, you two.”

If I lost track of these kids, it would be a nightmare to try to find them. Well, maybe not the one with glowing blue hair.

“We’re not little babies, you know.”

“Squeezy, squeezy, squeezy!”

Their verbal reactions were polar opposites, but they both obediently clamped down.

The flow of the crowd took us past a big hotel in the direction of the park. There were no bleachers or paid seating, so the focal point of this congestion was centered on staking out a place to sit. A ton of people woke up bright and early to camp out hours in advance, so latecomers like us didn’t stand a chance of snagging a spot with a good view. Personally, I wasn’t interested in expending my energy trying to compete with them. The whole point of fireworks was that they were launched sky-high, so a little distance was fine by me. Speaking of which, I could faintly hear the explosions already.

“…Oh, there she is.”

I spotted Tarumi standing in the shadow of a building, safely out of the way of foot traffic, playing on her cell phone. Maybe she was in the middle of contacting me. Belatedly, I realized we hadn’t agreed on a specific meeting location—just a general time frame in which to meet up. But since she knew where my house was, all she had to do was position herself somewhere along that route and wait for me. Clever girl, Taru-chan. Honestly, we should have decided on a meeting spot and this issue would have solved itself.

“Heeeey! Shiiiima-chaaaan!”

Tarumi spotted me and tucked her phone away. Waving, she weaved her way through the pedestrians to reach us. As I compared her to the passersby, it once again sank in just how much taller she had grown.

“Hello, hello!” I waved back at her at point-blank range. God, I’m so dorky. I laughed at myself, and she donned a smile in kind.

She was dressed in a fancy yukata; under the light of the festival lanterns, its peony pattern really came to life. Add in her long, perfectly curled hair and my initial reaction was: man, she looks just like a fashion model. But now I was the odd one out, and it didn’t feel great. Kind of like I didn’t belong, or…maybe I just wasn’t excited for the event… Eh, what else is new, I guess.

“So, uh…I take it this is your little sister,” Tarumi continued, stooping in my sister’s direction after a brief glance at Yashiro. This was proof that she had common sense and a pair of functioning eyes.

I felt my sister’s hand shift in angle and intensity and knew she was recoiling.

“Long time no see… Well, I guess you probably don’t remember, but…um…when your sister and I were in elementary school, I used to come over to your house a lot,” Tarumi explained with a friendly smile, gesturing to herself with one hand.

Evidently my sister had absolutely no memory of her, because her reaction was muted at best.

“Ha ha ha! Okay, maybe I should’ve said ‘nice to meet you’ instead.”

“Yeah,” my sister replied with a straight face, and I started giggling silently. Her “good girl” façade put all the festival masks to shame. Then she felt my hand shift and realized I was laughing at her.

“Grraaahh!” She launched a headbutt at my…well, you know. Punishment, et cetera. Kind of hard with both hands full.

“So, this would be the ‘one other’?”

I nodded. Then the “one other” introduced herself: “My name is Chikama Yashiro.”

Oh, yeah, that’s right. Honestly, I forgot she even had a surname. To me she was just Yashiro, and to my sister, she was Yachi.

“Nice to meet you… Gosh, your hair’s something else.”

Timidly, she stooped down, reached out, and touched Yashiro’s hair. But I was pretty sure this wasn’t their first encounter; did Tarumi somehow fail to notice her hair before now? What was she so distracted with back then?

Oh. Right. Me. Belatedly, the embarrassment sank in.

“All right then, let’s get going.”

Despite the imminent hassle, I straightened up and looked ahead. A wall of people had already formed in the distance, and the most frightening part was that it was slowly moving. I was very much not looking forward to diving into the mosquito smorgasbord.

As the four of us walked along, the largest firework of all—the sun—retreated into the distance, ditching us with its heat while it ran off to enjoy the night. Even a little kid knows to put their toys away when they’re done playing, I thought to myself wearily as I breathed in the tepid air. Compared to Planet Earth, you’re supposed to be the grown-up, so act like it.

“Hmm?”

Tarumi looked down at my hand—specifically, the one Yashiro was busy squeezing.

“What is it?” I asked.

The way she flinched, bolting upright, brought Adachi to mind. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just admiring what a responsible big sister you’ve always been.”

“You think so, huh?”

I vaguely remembered someone telling me something similar in the past—Hino, maybe? Something about being “more sisterly than they thought.” But I had no interest in being Yashiro’s big sister, because to be completely honest, I wasn’t cut out for it. I knew what kind of person I was, and I was not the big sister type.

“Yeah, but in a different way compared to before. Feels like you’ve really grown up!”

“Not sure I buy that.”

Her words had no weight to them, and furthermore, her smile was twitching like it was trying desperately to conceal the truth. I stared at her and waited. Eventually, her gaze did a full lap and came back around to me.

“Well, I just noticed how popular your hands seem to be. Didn’t know I needed to put in a reservation!” she teased, laughing through her teeth.

“My hands…? Oh, this?”

I raised both pairs of joined hands into the air. They were fully booked, that was for sure. Apparently Tarumi had hoped to hold hands with me, too. Seriously, what do these people get out of holding hands with me?

“Maybe I should have picked you up at your house,” she mused, folding her arms in deep contemplation. Judging from the frown, maybe she wasn’t joking.

However, she made a good point. If only we’d agreed to meet up outside one of our houses, we could have saved ourselves a lot of hassle. The fact that this hadn’t occurred to us sooner was proof of just how rusty our friendship was. We were both—how do I put it? Trying too hard, I guess.

“In that case, allow me to lend you a hand,” Yashiro declared, offering her free hand. I wasn’t expecting her to actually join the conversation, so this surprised me.

“Oh, uh, okay. Thanks.”

Naturally, Tarumi was a good sport about it and accepted, though a bit hesitantly. With both her hands now suspended in the air, Yashiro boosted herself up off the ground. No, we’re not going to carry you. Knock it off. You look like the alien who gets arrested in that movie with the guys in suits. As she hung there, Tarumi and I exchanged a look and laughed awkwardly.

“I swear, she’s not a bad kid.” Like 99 percent sure, anyway.

From what I could tell, Yashiro wasn’t offering out of the kindness of her heart. She wasn’t thinking about right or wrong or how she would benefit from her actions—she was just behaving the way she had been taught to behave, i.e., “help people who are in need.” Considering how kids these days were so often self-focused, it was a rare trait…and it set her apart from the rest of us.

“Yeah, I know… I gotta say, though, I wasn’t sure you were gonna show up, Shima-chan!” Tarumi sniffled dramatically as she clutched Yashiro’s little hand. The sigh of emotion in her voice was long and heavy.

“Why’s that?”

“Well, setting aside how you used to be, these days you’re kind of lazy and… Er, scratch that!” Apparently she misspoke. She waved a hand in front of her face to retract her statement. “I’m saying, like, you never want to do anything… Er, I mean…”

“Yeah?” I raised my eyebrows and politely waited for her to continue digging her own grave. Did she forget that I literally went out of my way to model for her painting?

“You’re just…noncommittal…? No, that’s not it. Hard to please…? Homebody…? Argh, forget it! I can’t think of the right word!” Lost in a labyrinth of synonyms, she clutched her head. It was mildly entertaining to watch.

Honestly, they all basically fit me. If I said as much out loud with an innocent smile, would we regain a bit of the chemistry we used to have before? I could sense the potential, but couldn’t convince myself to take that step. I just couldn’t see the appeal in going back. If there was something real and immortal between us, then surely no time travel was necessary to find it, right?

“Oh! Ohhh! OHHH!”

Yashiro started jumping up and down. How do you do that when your feet aren’t even touching the ground?

“I smell a most delightful fragrance!”

We were still a considerable distance from the street with the food stands, and yet here she was, sticking her nose high in the air. Her most casual mannerisms quietly marked her as someone beyond the realm of common sense. Everything was suspicious about her, not just her appearance. So what bizarre twist of fate had led me to walk hand in hand to a festival with her?

My sister, however, was very well-behaved. When I checked to make sure she hadn’t wandered off, sure enough, she was still holding my hand. She wasn’t staring at the ground, either—just walking along in silence. This was how she always acted whenever she was in the presence of a stranger.

On a whim, I raised a hand and poked her cheek. She scowled at me. “What was that for?!”

“You’re so quiet, I thought maybe you’d fallen asleep.”

The truth was that I felt bad that I hadn’t included her in the conversation. But if I admitted it out loud, how would she react? Of all the things people were meant to feel toward their family members, obligation was probably dead last. That’s why, even if it was technically true, it bothered me to think I was only babysitting her because she was my sister. It wasn’t inaccurate, and yet something felt missing.

By the time we arrived at the riverside street, the crowd was so large that we were forced to walk single file. Because we were all holding hands, naturally, both my arms were pulled backward. But when you walked around with your shoulders thrust out, you were more likely to bump into people. This was by no means a pleasant experience.

Before my good mood was completely spoiled, however, gold sparks rained down one after another. Then I caught a glimpse of fireworks out of the corner of my eye, and surprisingly enough, it worked like a charm to cheer me up. How many years had it been since I last witnessed fireworks with my own two eyes?

“See, Yachi? Those are fireworks!” my otherwise quiet sister explained smugly.

“Ooooh…” Yashiro’s mouth hung open as she gazed up at the glittering sparks. What did she think of these blooming sky-flowers? Would an alien even find value in it?

Mostly joking, but anyway.

Dazzling fireworks popped and faded one after another, as if we were bearing witness to the birth and death of new stars while the moon watched in the distance. At this point, even I managed to feel something. Like atoms drawn by a magnetic force, we continued down the street until the tightly packed food stands came into view, at which point Yashiro lost her ever-loving mind.

“OHHHH!” Clearly this was where her true interests lay. She tugged on my sleeve. “Shimamura-san! Shimamura-san!”

“Yes, yes, I know.” Since I was expected to treat them to dinner while we were here, I wasn’t strongly opposed, but before we headed over, I wanted to check in with Tarumi. “Mind if we check out the stalls?”

“Sure. I haven’t had dinner yet myself, so that works out.”

She looked out at the stands, and as I gazed at her face in profile, I found myself wondering: How long was she waiting there in the spot where we found her? Probably not that long, right? She’s not Adachi, after all.

“I have determined the true identity of the delicious smell!”

Nostrils flared, Yashiro sniffed loudly in the direction of one particular stand. It was orange with a red roof, perfectly suited to the festival lights. And among all the other stands with their lantern color schemes, this one had a giant, massively eye-catching sign:

“Fortune Takoyaki? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Right as I stopped short, the stall worker walked out from the back, wearing a long-sleeved, stuffy robe of some sort. Whatever it was, it looked way too heavy for a muggy summer night. Her porcelain skin and rosy cheeks made me think of candy apples, not…you know…octopus.

“Hey, there, come on down.”

“Oh, no, uh…”

“Our takoyaki dumplings are very special. In each eight-pack, just one contains a bite of octopus!”

“Excuse me?” I pointed at the sign. She ignored me.

“The lucky person who gets that bite can draw a fortune at no additional cost!”

She gestured to the spinning raffle drum sitting next to her. You call that “drawing a fortune”?

“Anyone who draws a ‘Very Lucky’ fortune will then be awarded with a free palm reading! Very lucky indeed!”

“……”

“But not to worry. If your palm reading ends up less than positive, you can simply buy another pack to improve your—”

“Ooookay, let’s keep walking.”

“Awww!”

Whew, that was close. Times like these, I need to stay on guard and keep an eye out for weirdo scammers mixed in with the normal people.

“Very well, then. If I may offer a word of warning…”

“Huh?”

One minute, she was standing behind the counter, and the next minute, she was suddenly right beside me. Did she jump over?! It was an unexpected move from someone who looked and dressed like, well, that. For a moment, I didn’t know how to react. And why was she chasing us?!

“I see that you will suffer great misfortune where women are concerned.”

She waggled a finger at my forehead. Where did that come from? She mentioned palm readings earlier; was she some kind of fortune-teller?

“But…I’m a girl…”

“You don’t really hear about misfortune involving men. Perhaps women are simply more complicated.”

I didn’t ask, but okay. Bewildered, I backed away. Was this weirdo going to follow me around for the rest of the festival now?

“So it’s…written on my face, or…?”

“No, your hands. I specialize in palmistry.”

I looked down at my palms; they were both concealed from sight, since I was busy holding hands with the kids. I looked back up at her. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

Oh, okay. She’s a lunatic.

“Thanks for the warning. Goodbye forever!” I started walking at the speed of light.

“Fare thee well!” she called after us, waving, but thankfully not pursuing us. Soon we both disappeared into the crowd. What was that about?

“Misfortune with women, huh…”

“Hmm?”

For some reason Tarumi looked to be even more upset than I was. Did some part of it ring true for her?

“Oh, Shimamura-san! That looks like it will be tasty for sure!”

Next, Yashiro pointed to a stand selling little cake balls known as baby castellas. “Made with honey, eggs, and milk,” according to the sign. Was that really a selling point? One look at Yashiro and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out whether she wanted to get some. If only my finals were this easy.

This time I managed to make the purchase without any wacky shenanigans. The only real “problem” was that I had to pay for it with my own money, since Yashiro was flat broke and my sister wasn’t much better, but that much I could handle. Please, no more exhausting weirdos tonight.

After she split her share with my sister, Yashiro savored her cake balls. “Mmmm… These castellas are delish!”

“Gee, I’m glad to hear it.”

“I wonder if that chicken karaage is any good?”

“Whoa there, pal.” Don’t go cheating on your food with other food.

As Yashiro ran amok like a starved child, I felt my wallet get lighter and lighter while my legs grew heavier and heavier. I tugged on her hand, keeping her in check like a dog on a leash. If I let her get even the tiniest glimpse of a stand’s smell and general ambience, she’d beg me to buy her more food, so I stared at the ground and focused on speed-walking.

“Gyaaah! Shimamura-saaaan!”

“God, just shut up!”

I wanted yakisoba noodles, not chicken karaage. My mouth was craving a departure from all the soumen.

“Shima-chan, you’re acting like a big sister again,” Tarumi teased as she worked to keep up with my pace. I felt a slight hint of protest and pouted my lips.

“It’s not a sister thing. I used to drag you around like this, too, once upon a time.”

For once, the conversation felt natural. The words slipped out promptly, smoothly, without a hitch. No deeper memory attached to them. But this gave me pause.

Likewise, Tarumi clearly wasn’t expecting this either, because she froze…but not nearly as long as I did. “Oh…yeah, that’s true!” she replied with an innocent, girlish grin. There beneath the light of the lanterns, it felt like I’d glimpsed a fragment of a dream.

Some time later, after more squabbling and some yakisoba, the fireworks escalated in level and intensity. The first one they fired off was a big rainbow explosion, provoking cheers from the crowd. “Beautiful,” I chimed in, like a novelist talking about the moon. Then I checked in with my sister. “Can you see okay?”

Standing behind a wall of grown adults, she was draped in shadow. Her response was less than favorable. “Ummm…”

Looks like I know what I have to do.

“Taru-chan, can you keep an eye on this one for me?”

I relinquished my grip on Yashiro, slid both hands under my sister’s arms, and boosted her up.

“Wha…huhwha?! Wha, wha, wha?!”

Apparently she didn’t see this coming. Visibly flustered, she looked at me wide-eyed. She was kinda heavy, but nothing I couldn’t manage.

“How about now?” I asked her.

“…Yeah…”

She turned back to the fireworks, nodding. This was an unusually well-behaved response from her. As I held her up, it felt like my arms were needles on a dial, indicating my Sisterly Quotient or however it was Hino put it.

“Wheeeee!” Beside us, Tarumi had hoisted Yashiro up into her arms. The little alien seemed quite excited about this, but then again, when wasn’t she excited?

“You good?” I asked Tarumi, worried Yashiro might be heavy.

Tarumi’s gaze wandered for a moment. “Uh, yeah,” she replied, and I could hear confusion in her voice. “I’m good. Actually, she’s…kinda like…I don’t know, but…it feels like she’s too light?”

“Oh, that. Yeah, it’s weird, huh?”

“I don’t know how you can just shrug it off like that, but it makes you pretty weird yourself, Shima-chan,” she shot back. Then I vaguely heard her whisper, “But I like you anyway.” Or something like that. How did I manage to hear it through the crowd?

Cool. Glad you approve.

“…Hmm…”

While my sister was distracted by the fireworks, I leaned in close to Tarumi so the little ones couldn’t overhear. Startled, she pursed her lips together, but I ignored it.

“Sorry about this—bringing the kids and all.” I had avoided apologizing over the phone, but now that we were in person, I felt like I needed to say it. After all, I was essentially forcing her to play babysitter with me.

“Sure, no problem.” At first she nodded vaguely, but then she hung her head. “Nah, really, it’s cool.”

I couldn’t sense any bitterness or sarcasm from the look on her face. Her perfectly polished cheeks and eyes were dyed in the colors of the blossoming fireworks.

“All I care about is having fun with you, Shima-chan.”

“That’s all?”

“Yeah, that’s all.”

She paused there to look up at the sky. Her words seemed like an expression of something more, yet nothing followed after them. But there was something refreshing in her eyes—the way they always seemed to stare straight ahead at the future to come. So much so, in fact, I could hallucinate the feeling of the breeze against my cheek, despite being trapped in a pool of warm bodies where no such relief existed.

“Gotcha.”

It felt rude to press her further—like asking a firework not to fade. A firework that lingered was no better than graffiti, tarnishing the sky.

“So yeah, I don’t mind that, but… Well, this is gonna sound really petty, but…” She pointedly cleared her throat. When I looked over at her, I realized she had moved a step closer, still carrying Yashiro. Then she raised her head high. “I think there’s something you forgot to say!”

At first, I had no idea what she was talking about. Then she twirled her yukata sleeves, and when I saw the bashful look on her face, it clicked.

“Oh!”

Apparently she wanted me to comment on her yukata. Her ears were tinged red, and not from the light of the fireworks.

“Come on! Don’t make me have to ask you, Shima-chaaaan!” she whimpered playfully, with all the shame of a tearful smile.

“Right. How very impolite of me,” I replied with an awkward laugh.

If I said she looked like a fashion model, would it sound sarcastic? Maybe so… I agonized over it for a moment, then looked her up and down. She shifted back and forth on her feet shyly.

“You look dazzling,” I told her sincerely.

It wasn’t clear how she chose to interpret this, because she responded with a weird laugh, her expression stiff, her mouth frozen in the shape of a croissant.

“Wh-what, more dazzling than the fireworks? Just kidding. Ha ha ha ha…”

“Yeah. You’re absolutely radiant.”

From my point of view, I was just being honest. But for some reason, this seemed to push her over the edge, because she started coughing hard. Now I was really worried about how she interpreted it. Of course, she was only dazzling because of Yashiro and the sparkles from her hair, but I decided to keep that little detail to myself.

And so, on that July night, we reveled in fireworks and old friendship. If we were still in grade school, I would have put it in my diary for sure.

***

“…Shimamura?”

My vision swirled and converged on a single point, pulling me into the vortex. Trembling, I called after her, but she was fenced off by three cheerful voices that yanked the ground right out from under me, sending me plummeting into despair.

For a split-second, the light of the fireworks weakened the deep blue of night.

Shimamura.