Chapter 18: The End and Beginning of Summer

“Are you really fine with how this all turned out?” On the bullet train home from Tokyo, Aina had been staring out the window without uttering a single word to Kai (despite being the one who demanded they sit together) until, suddenly, she spoke without any prior notice.

“...How what turned out?” Kai asked.

“If you legitimately don’t understand, then I’m switching seats,” she told him pointedly. “And if you’re playing dumb, then I’m seriously going to hate you.”

“...I’m sorry,” he apologized.

“Hmph,” Aina huffed in a foul mood, hurrying him to answer.

Kai knew what situation Aina was referring to—not even he was that dense. After the Summit judging had concluded, he’d stood there exchanging looks with Nanaka. They had both worn the same lost expression on their faces, and the fact that they had been standing together drew even more stares from the crowd, so they’d taken their seats in a panic.

Then, Eru had thrown him a lifeline. “Just so you know, dear,” she’d pointed out, “this project isn’t yours alone.”

Those words had brought Kai back to reality. That’s right! he thought belatedly. The game itself wasn’t something that Kai had made on his own. His contribution was only the starting point. From there, Nanaka, Eru, Aya, and Aina had all done their parts to give form to a single end result. An outsider like Hifumi Tetsuya may have understood it to be something akin to a love letter, but that wasn’t necessarily true.

That train of thought had formed the basis for Kai’s explanation to Nanaka, who’d been wrapped up in this mess with him. It was a fact that he’d been thinking of her during development, and perhaps the sentiment that came through in the final product was what had been misconstrued as a love letter.

Kai had never once written such a letter in his life, but he couldn’t deny that what he’d done was similar in the sense that it was aimed at a specific person. Still, he hadn’t intended it, and he certainly hadn’t aimed for what Hifumi Tetsuya had suggested. It just so happened that the outcome came to be understood in such a way that—and so on.

“Right,” Nanaka had replied. “That makes sense.” Peculiarly, her faint smile as she spoke remained stuck in Kai’s mind even now.

Was he fine with how things had turned out? Truthfully, Kai hesitated when faced with this question.

“I won’t ask a second time,” Aina pressed. She peered into Kai’s eyes from the seat beside him as if to confirm his answer.

The only means of answering was to confront the question head-on. “...I don’t think I told any lies,” Kai finally said. He didn’t think he’d been wrong. But, on the other hand, he wasn’t quite sure if he’d been right. None of what he’d said was baseless or fraudulent, so that was the extent of what he could assert in his answer.

“...Is that so? Well, fine, that works for me.” The displeasure in Aina’s voice rang out from the window seat as she turned away and once again gazed outside.

There was a brief sound by the glass as the train entered a tunnel. In the darkened glass, Kai could see that Aina’s eyes were fixed on none other than herself.

In a quiet whisper, she added, “Nanaka-chan invited me.” Locking eyes with him through the glass, she announced, “I’m going to the fireworks, too.”

◇

The fireworks festival began in August, with the end of summer break just around the corner.

The event took place by the Shinano River riverbed, and, according to Nanaka, the reflection of the fireworks on the river’s surface was oh-so-beautiful. However, to get a proper view, they all needed to meet up early to secure a good spot.

Of course, ‘they’ referred to all the members of Meikun’s social game club. Misako had once again entrusted Kai with a camera and declined to go herself. Even when weighed against everything the occasion offered, her distaste for large crowds won out.

“If you want a photograph so badly, then you should come along and take it yourself,” Kai had said in an attempt to refuse her.

However, that just caused Misako to cling to him like she only had a day to live. She’d stuck to his back, gripped onto his legs, and finally flopped over in a tantrum by the front door like a child, cutting off his path while screaming, “No no no no no no!!!” When he’d attempted to step over her to leave, she’d clung to him again, starting the whole process over. When, at long last, Kai had ceded this war of attrition, he was on pace to be late for their designated rendezvous time no matter what he did.

With the camera that Misako had forced onto him firmly in hand, Kai made his way over to meet up with everyone in front of Nanaka’s home (though technically it was also in front of Eru’s home), since she lived the closest to the festival. The heat of summer was still alive and well, and the fact that he was running consequently led him to work up a sweat even in the growing darkness of early twilight. Still, with no time to worry about such things, he hurried along.

Kai showed up five minutes past the time he was supposed to, and was greeted with a “You’re late!” from Nanaka, who seemed more cheerful than upset. As she waved toward him, he could see that the other three had already arrived.

“S-Sorry,” he stammered. He’d noticed from afar, but couldn’t help but think again, she really is beautiful—and cute.

Nanaka, Eru, and Aina were all wearing yukata. Nanaka’s hair was styled differently today, tied up into a little bundle on top of her head. Lit by the setting sun, Kai found the sight of her usually-hidden neck to be quite seductive.

“What... do you think?” she asked him meekly.

What do I think? Kai repeated internally. “I-It, uh, suits you... a lot,” he told her.

“...Th-Thanks.” The way Nanaka awkwardly averted her gaze was downright criminal.

“Hey!” Suddenly, Kai felt something pull at his sleeve. He turned to see Aina exaggeratedly puffing up her cheeks in dissatisfaction. “She’s not the only one wearing a yukata, you know? ♪”

Despite the blooming smile on her face, Aina definitely wasn’t laughing on the inside. Kai knew that he couldn’t let himself be deceived by this contradictory expression. He figured that the fact that he could tell as much was proof that he understood her better now than he had before.

Aina’s shimmering black hair alone was enough to make the yukata work on her. If he’d known absolutely nothing about her personality, the scene of her gazing at the fireworks over the river would surely be unforgettable. At least, she naturally exuded enough presence to make Kai think that.

“I told Grandma I didn’t need to wear one,” Aina grumbled, “but she just wouldn’t listen.”

“I think... that was the right move.”

“‘The right move’?” With a single glance, she was telling him to clearly say it out loud.

I really wish she’d stop doing that, Kai thought to himself. Out loud, he started to say, “It su—”

“Oh, I’ve already heard, ‘It suits you,’ so that’s enough.”

“Huh, wait, but—”

“Hmm, then how about this?” Aina asked teasingly. “Cute or beautiful? Which am I? ♪”

What kind of intention lies behind this question—this smile? Kai wondered. He couldn’t even begin to imagine. Aina wasn’t asking anything straightforward; she was probably testing him on something. Regardless of his suspicions, the unknown remained unknown. Cute or beautiful? Looking at her again with all this swirling around his head, Kai was no closer to an answer and simply said what was on his mind.

“...Both, I guess,” he finally replied, feeling that this answer was the closest thing to truth. To elaborate, he thought she was neither one nor the other, because Aina’s image was prone to change at the drop of a hat. Of course, that was partly due to her propensity to wear masks whenever it suited her, but the bigger factor was her skill in acting. She’d been polishing it since she was a little girl, and it now made her appear in an infinite array of possibilities, like the patterns of a kaleidoscope.

However, it seemed that Kai’s response was outside the bounds of Aina’s expectations. She faltered for a moment and averted her gaze as she muttered, “...So greedy.”

And once again, Kai felt a tug at his sleeve. This time, he turned to find Aya.

“Senpai,” she said demandingly, “what about me?!”

“You’re wearing plain clothes,” he observed. Not only that, but she was wearing an outfit that he’d seen plenty of times during their Summit development hustle. With just a t-shirt and jeans, Aya was wholly undecorated, although in some way, that was quite befitting of her.

“...We’re matching,” she pointed out.

“No,” he told her. “Like I said, we’re just wearing plain clothes.”

“...Yeah, but a yukata is such a pain to put on and walk around in,” Aya whined. “Plus, I end up getting super-duper mad when I wear one.”

“You get mad?”

“...Senpai. Listen to me,” Aya insisted. “In this world of ours, when a shrimp like me dares to wear something the slightest bit Japanese, there’s always a gaggle of idiots who start asking if I’m celebrating my third or seventh birthday.”

“Pft!” Eru instantly burst into laughter following a failed attempt to hold herself back. She was probably imagining Aya’s yukata-clad figure as she glanced over at Aya a second, then a third time, laughing again with each peek. In Eru’s mind, Aya was probably holding a stick of traditional children’s candy and making a V with her fingers.

“For the first time in my life,” Eru said in between snickers, “I truly understand what pity feels like.”

“...Senpai?” Aya asked.

“What?” Kai replied.

“Can I stick bugs in all the code that has to do with this idiot’s drawings?”

With a heavy sigh and a light chop on the head, Kai answered, “Denied,” to which Aya glared at him in discontent. Regardless of what kind of face she was making, he wasn’t about to allow something like that.

Then, Kai suddenly made eye contact with Eru. She was also wearing a yukata, and the way her long, dark hair slipped down to her waist brought about a dazzling atmosphere altogether different from Nanaka and Aina.

“I’m only wearing this because Nanaka told me to,” Eru explained. “...If you dare make any comment, I’ll poke out your eyes, dear.”

“R-Right...”

◇

The path to the riverbed was already packed with people. Still, thanks to the fact that they had set out early and that Nanaka knew of a hidden spot, they were able to secure a nice view. They were a little ways away from the most popular location, but apparently their position was just right to see both the fireworks blossoming in the sky and reflecting in the water.

They laid out their picnic blanket to claim their territory. The last vestiges of the evening sun caused the river to glimmer orange as the light scattered across its surface. The smell of the flowing river, the cries of cicadas, and the bubbling atmosphere of people—all of whom were eagerly awaiting the fireworks—swirled together with the voices of Nanaka and the others, reverberating both near and far.

Suddenly, a thought gripped Kai: it isn’t only summer vacation, but summer itself that’s ending.

“We’re out of drinks!” Aya exclaimed, announcing the first casualty caused by their early arrival. While sitting on the blanket and talking about their summers—in other words, talking about all the ordeals of this year’s Summit—their supply of snacks and drinks bottomed out before they knew it. There was still a sizable chunk of time before the fireworks began.

“Rock, paper, scissors—” On shoot!, Kai and Aina were declared the losers who had to go buy more.

“A-Are you sure?” Nanaka asked. “It’ll start getting crowded soon, so I can come, too.”

“Nanaka-chan, ♪” Aina sang sweetly, “It’s a-okay. I know Kai-kun just moved here, but I’m pretty familiar with this area, myself.”

“Oh, u-um... yeah, of course,” Nanaka stammered. With something else clearly still stuck in her throat, she added, “Hurry back.”

“I want seaweed-salt-flavored chips,” Aya appended.

“Takoyaki.” Despite the utter disinterest in her glare, Eru also put in an order as Kai and Aina headed away from the event site.

Kai knew there was a convenience store relatively close by, since they’d passed by it on the way to their viewing spot. However, as Nanaka had said, there were also significantly more people around than when they’d arrived. Between those lining up for the restroom, eating in front of a stall, and hurrying to secure their own spots, the streets were packed with people.

It took them far longer than Kai initially thought to get there, and he bought up everything they needed in a rush. Aina had told him, “I’ll wait outside, since it’s so cramped,” but she was nowhere to be seen upon exiting the store. At any rate, she would stand out—or rather, she would actively draw the attention of everyone around her. Even on their little journey to the store, she attracted the glances of man and woman alike. He was sure he’d find her right away.

“Hup!” a voice called from behind. Kai silently yelped as a sudden chill on his neck caused his shoulders to recoil. He turned to see Aina laughing with a mischievous grin. In her hand were two glass bottles of Ramune that she’d bought at a nearby stall. “Here.”

“Wha—” He reflexively accepted one and then added, “Oh, thanks.”

“C’mere, this way.” Aina’s slender fingers swiftly shot out and plucked at his wrist, tugging him along. There was a small wall of stone by the edge of the street that was the perfect height for sitting, so Aina took a seat and patted the space beside her with her free hand. She was beckoning Kai to sit with her. “Let’s chat for a bit, Kai-kun.”

“But it’s so crowded,” he protested. “Won’t we be late if we don’t hurry back?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. We still have plenty of time,” she reassured him. “...What? Do you not want to talk to me? I’m sure you’d be more than happy to plop down here if it was Nanaka-chan sitting beside you.”

“Why are you mentioning Nanaka-san now?” Kai asked.

“You wanna know? Then sit,” she told him, clearly without any regard for his answer. At this point, she wasn’t going to budge. He knew as much, and also knew that it would be fastest just to go along with her.

Kai barely managed to hold in a sigh as he sat down. As he did so, Aina scooted up next to him so that their legs just managed to touch. Her soft fragrance, different still from the scent of summer or the river, drifted to his nose. Before he could make an escape, she thrust out her Ramune bottle toward him.

“How about, ‘to our hard work’?” Aina suggested.

“...To our hard work,” Kai echoed, lightly knocking the bottle in his right hand against hers. A sharp, refreshing clink sound rang out as the marble in the bottle rolled around the glass while collecting little bubbles of carbonation. Going with the flow, Kai took a gulp, and the well-chilled flavor of intense nostalgia slid down the back of his throat.

“...It was a lot of fun,” Aina remarked.

“What are you—er, which part are you talking about?” Kai asked.

“Oh, come on,” said Aina, with a genuine, dimpled smile. “Everything. Isn’t that obvious? Every single thing that happened this summer. A lot of it was exhausting and... intense, but this is the first time in a long while that I’ve had this much fun.”

“...Is that because you don’t have to wear a mask?” Kai asked. He couldn’t help but find Aina’s gaze melancholic as she’d mentioned how long it’d been. Perhaps the reason he undermined her serious tone was because he wanted to lighten up the air around her.

“How about you stop being so indiscriminately kind?” Aina quipped.

“...I’m not really all that kind,” Kai refuted.

“You are,” she insisted. “...For example, I never thought that I’d be able to stand beside her again.”

Kai realized right away that Aina was referring to Eru. He’d already heard the circumstances between them, and that was meant to be the whole truth. Still, there was one point that he couldn’t wrap his head around. “...Can I ask you one question?”

“The real reason I didn’t just say, ‘I didn’t do it’?” Aina asked shrewdly. She’d seen right through him—or maybe this is what she’d had in mind when she sat down. She’d previously explained that the fact that she didn’t rip up the drawing with her own hands didn’t mean she wasn’t responsible—that she didn’t want to believe she was guiltless. So, she didn’t deny anything.

However, Kai couldn’t help but think that she could have at least told Eru that she wasn’t the one to do the deed. Then, at the very least, their relationship wouldn’t have devolved into the cold hatred that it had become.

And above all... “I didn’t do it, but I’m still responsible. If you want to hold a grudge, then feel free. If you want to hate me, then hate me. I won’t deny you that.” He could definitely imagine Aina being the type to explain all of that truthfully.

“I knew,” Aina began.

“Huh?”

“The fact that the chieftain of that monkey tribe wanted to ruin her illustration? ...I knew,” she confessed. “I happened to overhear them talking about it.”

“But then... why didn’t you...?” Kai asked.

“That’s because...” The continuation came to the tip of Aina’s tongue, but first she took a sip of Ramune. Her sight was fixed on the blue marble rolling around her bottle as she finished answering. “...I didn’t think they could do it,” she said wistfully. “That drawing was incredible, wasn’t it? It was really beautiful. Enough to make anyone that saw it think so... Even though I knew—I knew that people are all trash... and that some don’t have any qualms about trampling over others.” Like the fizzing bubbles of her soda, Aina’s voice threatened to disappear at any moment as she concluded, “That’s why I couldn’t tell her that I didn’t do it.”

“But then, Aina-san, you... You didn’t do anything wrong,” Kai pointed out gently.

“Like I said before, stop being so thoughtlessly nice.”

“I’m not saying this to be nice, I’m just—”

“But, thanks,” said Aina, a tiny smile floating to her lips. “I’m glad you—and only you—were the one I told this to.”

If you word it like that, Kai thought, how am I supposed to say anything?

“Wait, hooold it!” Aina’s voice abruptly livened up as she declared, “All this doom and gloom isn’t what I wanted to talk about!”

“You had something else?”

“...What happened at the movie theater,” she said. “Don’t tell me you forgot... You cried.”

“Well, of cour—” Kai’s words were cut short when he noticed that Aina’s watery gaze contained a curious passion behind it. Unable to withstand it, his eyes escaped to the glass in his own hands. It was probably mostly a habit for her, but the way Aina shifted gears so unexpectedly was genuinely bad for his heart. He drank a mouthful of Ramune to calm himself down and let the refreshing chill in his throat cool his head off.

“Of course, I remember,” said Kai. He didn’t need to look to know that she’d been peering into the side of his face this entire time.

“...That made me happy,” Aina confessed. From Kai’s left side, she extended a hand to rest on his shoulder. “That was the first time... someone else had cried for me. That kindness of yours—I want you to direct it all toward me.”

All of a sudden, a deafening sound rang out above their heads; their chat seemed to have continued a little too long, and now flowers composed of colorful fire streaked across the darkened night sky.

“The fireworks—” Kai said, turning toward the sensation of touch to find that Aina’s face was now directly in front of his own. Time stopped and the world moved in slow motion. He couldn’t see the fireworks. All that was before him were Aina’s large eyes, shapely nose, snow-white skin, and lips the color of cherry blossoms.

At this rate, they were going to—

“Just kidding! ♪” Aina stopped with a devilish grin just when her breath began tickling Kai’s lips. She drew back, and her eyes were the color of the night sky itself; there, he saw the fireworks bloom beautifully. “You really are fun to tease,” she told him.

“...This is bad for my heart,” Kai grumbled.

“Ohh?” she wondered aloud. “I’m enough to get your heart racing?”

“...I think that goes for most people,” said Kai.

Aina faintly knit her eyebrows together and then shut her eyes, letting out a small sigh. “...Stupid,” she muttered. “That’s not what I meant.” Opening her eyes once more, she stood up and said, “Come on, let’s hurry up and go back.”

Beyond the sight of Aina swimming through the night in her yukata, the fireworks exploded one after another. Kai thought back to those he’d seen reflected in Aina’s irises while they were close enough for their breath to intertwine. Feeling the throbbing in his chest quicken, he waved away the picturesque memory and hurried along after her.

◇

Thanks to the rising rockets of color, the trip back went much more smoothly. When they arrived at the picnic blanket, the timing was just right, as the first volley had concluded and the second was being readied. Three voices welcomed them:

“You’re late!” Aya exclaimed.

“Where is my takoyaki?” Eru demanded.

“Are you okay? It got crowded, didn’t it?” Nanaka asked in concern.

“It was fine coming back, but it was packed on our way there,” Kai explained.

“Don’t sweat it,” Nanaka said, “Besides, it’s hard to find this spot since everyone else has laid out blankets, too. I was getting worried that you and Aina-chan had gotten lost, so I’m relieved to see you.”

“Kai-kun aside,” Aina objected, “there’s no way I’d get lost, is there? Oh,” she paused with a wicked smirk. “...but we did enjoy ourselves a little, right?”

“Y-You ‘enjoyed yourselves’?” Nanaka stuttered.

“That’s lewd, senpai,” Aya remarked.

“N-No! This!” Kai protested, thrusting out the empty Ramune bottle. “Aina-san bought some soda all of a sudden, so we were drinking them.”

“Who cares about any of that?” Eru questioned. “The takoyaki’s going to get cold.”

“‘Takoyaki, takoyaki,’ you’re so annoying,” Aina said mockingly. “Here. Be grateful: I went and stood in line for you. Were you always this gluttonous?”

Eru put her hand on the package that Aina had handed her, but then stopped and began silently staring at Aina. “W-What?”

“...Here.” After a long moment of deliberation, Eru offered up one of the takoyaki back to Aina. “I’ll give you one, dear.”

Nanaka was beaming with joy. Seeing this awkward gesture, Kai (who was in no position to be judging others) was swept up in the moment and joined Nanaka in smiling.

“Huh? I’m on a diet, so I don’t need that ball of carbs.” Aina’s reply was curt and to the point.

What part of your appearance do you need to diet for? Kai thought. But despite his gut reaction, he could see that perhaps her current form was the result of all the efforts she put in to maintaining it. Still, he wondered, if you’re going to pick what you eat so carefully, can’t you do the same for your words, just this once?

But then, Aina continued, “...In the first place, you’ve given me a lot already... and I’m sure you will in the future, too. I don’t need your takoyaki,” and turned away as she finished speaking.

“...Huh? What is this girl on about with all this sentimentality? This pitiful miscreant ended up being our gofer, so I decided to bless her with a piece out of the goodness in my heart.” This time, it was Eru who was being brusque. And of course, there was no stopping them now.

“Huh?!” Aina’s voice inflected upward with rage. “Oh, geez! Fine, then! Give it to me!”

“Hey!” Eru shouted. “Don’t eat two at once!”

“Itsh hawt...!” Aina garbled back.

“A-Aina-san, water! Drink some water!” Kai suggested.

“You know,” Aya noted, “Aye-aye is a pretty splendid idiot, herself.”

The loud booming above their heads resumed amidst their ruckus, and the fiery, rainbow-colored fragments popped into circles of color and scattered to earth.

Aina quickly found her seat by Eru, and Nanaka made room beside her for Kai. He sat down and looked up at the night sky to find that it stretched out unimaginably far. The moon and stars seemed to shine more brilliantly than usual, and the glow of the fireworks painted over those miniscule lights with a thunderous bang that shook the very heavens. There were some that proudly bloomed into vivid colors like sunflowers, and others that drew lines across the night sky like weeping cherry trees. Both were intensely beautiful.

“So pretty,” Nanaka whispered.

Owing partially to the restricted space of the blanket, Kai felt as though Nanaka was directly transmitting her warmth to him. He turned to agree with her when he suddenly realized that his left hand was laying atop Nanaka’s right. He’d been so enchanted by the dazzling flares that he hadn’t noticed at all. It was no wonder he’d felt her presence so closely.

Flustered, Kai lifted his hand away... but for whatever reason, Nanaka layered her right hand over his again. He could dimly feel her gentle warmth, completely distinct from the heat of the summer night, spread throughout his palm.

When he looked at her, she spoke with her gaze still on the night sky. “Hey, Kai-kun... We might be swamped with entrance exams, but let’s come again next year.”

“...Yeah,” he agreed softly.

“But the year after that... will be tough, won’t it? Not just the fireworks... I’m sure it’ll be hard to get everyone together... It’s going to be lonely,” she said slowly. At some point, the fireworks will end.

The balls of light shot up, burst, and diffused. Once the rockets ran out, the show would end, only to remain in their memories. The beauty would linger in their remembrance, but that, too, would slowly fade away. Eventually, this would be no more than a single summer’s memory whose radiant luster had faded.

That might be the natural course of things. “That’s not true,” Kai said out loud. But who would accept an ending like that? “Next year, and the year after that, and past that, too... Let’s come together,” he told her. “There’s no need to give up on something that isn’t even here yet... It’s not going to be lonely.”

Kai felt Nanaka’s fingers squeeze his own tightly.

“Yeah,” she said with a quiet nod, and a smile blossomed across her face—lovelier still than any of the fireworks.