Intermission: Rendezvous Avenue

Intermission: Rendezvous Avenue

Intermission:

Rendezvous Avenue

O N THE EAST END OF TSUWABUKI WAS A LONELY path of tulip trees. There, beneath their great branches, two girls stood at opposite sides of a trunk, their backs to each other.

“Tsuwabuki Fest proceeds apace, Senpai. The literature club has finalized their project, and the classroom reservation form’s been approved. She’s getting along well.”

One of them wore a badge identifying her as a first-year. Her hair hung in waves just past her shoulders, and her figure was the object of many young men’s imaginations. She munched on a Black Thunder chocolate bar as she presented a photo on her phone to the other girl.

The girl glanced sideways at it through her glasses. She was a third-year. Her two pigtails swayed behind her as she passed a small, hand-sized bag over her shoulder. “That’s a relief to hear. This is for you.”

Potato chips. Fried chicken-flavored. A Toyohashi specialty.

The first-year girl accepted at once and immediately started crunching. “Also, I got in touch with a friend of mine who’s in her class to see how she gets on outside of club.” The glasses girl produced another bag. This time, it was barbecue flavor. “Every break, she leaves and comes back right at the bell. She doesn’t talk to anyone, doesn’t pair up with anyone during PE. Or so they tell me.”

“I thought as much. The truth hurts.”

“But I hear that’s changed this semester.”

“Oh?” Another bag. Salted butter.

The first-year polished off the barbecue chips and dug straight in. “She still disappears between periods,” she said, “but now they say she comes back in a better mood than she left.”

The girl with glasses thought on that for a while. What in the world could it mean?

Eventually, she nodded. “Your cooperation is appreciated. I’ll have something special for you next time.”

“Lucky me. Until then.” The first-year nonchalantly and inconspicuously took her leave.

The glasses girl remained. A small, palm-shaped leaf fluttered down to her feet. She reached for it, held it up, and gazed at the sky through translucent, crisscrossing veins.

Only ten days until the festival. Her faith in her would have to hold out until then.