Chapter 4: Friendship

♤♤♤

Kyoto is famous for the Gion Festival, held every July. Elaborately decorated floats called yamaboko parade through the streets, but the night before, known as Yoiyama, is a grand prelude.

Yoiyama is incredibly lively. The streets become pedestrian-only, lined with countless lanterns and food stalls, while the yamaboko awaiting the parade are illuminated and displayed. Against the night sky, the yamaboko stand solemn yet vibrant, evoking a sense of reverence mixed with infectious joy.

On such a Yoiyama night, with festival music echoing,

I was weaving through crowds of people in yukata, dashing through the streets of Kyoto.

“Kirishima-san~ Wait for me~!”

“Hey, Touno, don’t follow me! Go back!”

But Touno ignored me, chasing after me relentlessly.

“Why are you so fast? You totally don’t have stamina! And your running form is super weird!”

“Don’t casually diss me like that!”

Tonight, I couldn’t afford to stop.

I kept fleeing.

Touno kept chasing.

How did it come to this? Let’s backtrack a bit.

♤♤♤

“Huh? Kirishima-kun, you got punched?”

“Yeah, by an elementary schooler.”

I was chatting with Fukuda-kun.

It was evening, and as usual, we were preparing to grill fish on the private road between Yamame-sou and Sakura Heights. Tonight’s catch was hamo fish. Daidouji-san had gone all the way to the sea to catch it. When I pointed out that the travel costs could’ve bought hamo fillets, Daidouji-san looked utterly heartbroken.

“Where?”

“Right here.”

A few hours earlier, after university lectures, I returned to Yamame-sou to find an elementary school boy waiting. He had neatly trimmed bangs, wore a short-sleeved shirt and shorts, and looked well-raised.

The moment he saw me, he said,

You’re the kimono guy, huh?

That’s how I roll around these parts.

Prepare for justice!

The boy landed a punch to my lower abdomen and ran off. I collapsed to the ground, writhing in agony for minutes.

“I’ve seen that kid a few times,”

Fukuda-kun said.

“Where?”

“At the convenience store.”

He’d seen him buying ice cream, always carrying a large backpack, probably heading to cram school.

“He was paying with a card.”

He’d slam his IC card onto the reader with a dramatic bashin.

“I was shocked, realizing I’m behind an elementary schooler, so I remember it well.”

“You’re still all about cash, Kirishima-kun.”

“I’m classic. But why did a kid punch me?”

“You’ll figure it out eventually.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You could use a punch or two,”

Fukuda-kun said, laughing.

“Still, going to cram school from elementary school sounds nice. Learning from others teaches you a lot.”

It was well-known among us that Fukuda-kun got into university without attending cram school or prep courses, which must’ve involved considerable effort.

“Is your little brother studying on his own too?”

I asked. Fukuda-kun has a younger brother, who I think is taking university entrance exams this year.

“Yeah. So I’m planning to send him my old study guides. Kirishima-kun, if you have anything you don’t need, could you pass it on? I want to help him out.”

“Sure, but didn’t the news say some parts of the exam format are changing this year?”

“Oh, right, they did. Then old textbooks might not be useful……”

While we talked, Daidouji-san arrived with karashi sumiso sauce. Looking at the hamo we’d filleted, he said,

“Filleting hamo isn’t enough. You need to bone-cut it.”

Daidouji-san started making fine cuts into the hamo’s white flesh. Meanwhile, as usual, we lit a fire, set up a pot, and boiled water.

Once the hamo was blanched, we plated it with shiso leaves. I grabbed my phone, snapping multiple photos.

“I like karashi sumiso, but plum paste might make the colors pop more……”

“Kirishima-kun, losing sight of what’s essential……”

The taste was perfect—a pleasant chewiness, light flavor enhanced by the karashi sumiso, refreshingly ideal for summer.

“By the way, where’s Touno? Summer hamo’s prime Insta-worthy material, right?”

I said, and Fukuda-kun answered,

“Touno-san started a part-time job.”

“She’s already busy with her club, isn’t she? Since when?”

“Last week. The day Daidouji-san talked about the Gion Festival and hamo festival, she was already searching for jobs on an app.”

Daidouji-san had mentioned that the Gion Festival is also called the hamo festival, though he’d never heard anyone actually call it that.

We’d all promised to go to the Gion Festival together.

No one brought up needing money, but knowing Touno’s food obsession, she might’ve wanted to gorge on hamo. I heard hamo at Kifune’s riverside yuka dining is exceptionally delicious but pricey.

“What’s Touno’s job?”

“A bakery.”

I pictured Touno in a white uniform and chef’s hat. All I could imagine was her sneaking bites, but the look suited her.

“You’ve noticed bags of bread left outside your room lately, right?”

“Yeah. Tons of bread in paper bags—it’s been a lifesaver.”

“Bakery bread is best fresh, so she can take a lot home.”

“So that was Touno’s way of paying me back.”

“Kirishima-kun, you were eating stuff without knowing who left it……”

Then Fukuda-kun stood up, saying, “I’m turning in early tonight.”

“I actually picked up more shifts too.”

“Really?”

“Miyamae-san’s been taking extra shifts too.”

That’s probably why she hasn’t joined our fish-grilling sessions lately.

“Is there a part-time job boom?”

Either way, it’s a good sign that Fukuda-kun knew about Touno’s job before I did.

They’re talking more and getting closer.

“Kirishima,”

Daidouji-san said, playing his morin khuur as an after-dinner pastime.

“Shouldn’t you pick up a job too?”

Touno and the others suddenly started working.

What are they planning to use the money for?

Whatever the case—

“Got it. Kirishima Shirou’s on it—I’ll get a job.”

♤♤♤

I scrape by with short-term part-time jobs. This time, I chose a department store’s event hall, working for a kimono shop with a limited-time stall.

I can’t do fittings, so my tasks were mainly stock management and display setup.

With few customers, it was just me and a woman with red glasses at the stall.

She wore a subdued kimono, balancing her glasses with the colors. I was in my usual kimono. I got hired on the spot when I showed up for the interview like this.

“Kirishima-kun, let’s display these fabrics today.”

I hung the fabrics on the shopfront rack as she instructed.

“Kirishima-kun, fix these obi.”

I tidied the obi.

“Kirishima-kun, grab some juice.”

I bought juice.

“Kirishima-kun, give me a shoulder massage.”

Being bossed around by an older woman wasn’t so bad. With no customers, we spent a lot of time chatting. These days, few people buy kimonos.

Attending university lectures and chatting at the department store’s event hall.

That was my routine when, one day,

While talking with her as usual, a rare customer arrived—a young girl.

“Kirishima-kun, customer service!”

Armed with my hastily learned kimono knowledge, I approached the girl confidently, using a refined tone, but—

“Huh? Why’s Kirishima here?”

“Oh, it’s just you, Miyamae.”

“‘Just you’ is rude……”

Miyamae’s face turned grumpy. She was in full tsun-tsun mode.

“So, why are you here?”

“I’m working here. Everyone’s been busy lately, so it’s just been me and Daidouji-san.”

“Hmph.”

Miyamae was browsing the yukata section.

“It’s a yukata from a proper kimono shop, so they’re pricey.”

They’re a bit expensive for university students. But Miyamae said she wanted a proper yukata.

“I talked with Touno. We decided to splurge on a nice yukata.”

“For the Gion Festival?”

“You gotta wear a proper yukata to look Insta-worthy, right?”

That’s why Touno started working at the bakery. I’d assumed she took the job to eat hamo at Kifune’s riverside yuka dining since we’d talked about hamo, but it seems her desire for Insta-worthy moments trumped her appetite.

“If you have a yukata, you can wear it for all sorts of summer outings.”

She and Touno had talked about making the most of living in Kyoto.

“What kind of pattern do you want?”

Miyamae looked through the yukata patterns one by one.

“This year’s trendy patterns are—”

I started explaining, but Miyamae seemed unimpressed, giving me a sulky stare.

“The color combinations—”

Miyamae’s face looked like she wanted to say something.

“The obi—”

Finally unable to hold back, Miyamae snapped,

“That’s not what I’m asking! I’m asking what pattern you like, Kirishima!”

“……Irises, maybe.”

Miyamae made a thoughtful gesture and said,

“Forget it. If you’re here, you’ll probably peek when I try them on. I’ll come back with Touno when you’re not around.”

With that, she stormed off. What was that about?

“Sorry, I let a customer get away.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.”

the woman said.

“Just sell a super expensive kimono to a rich-looking madam, and we’re good.”

Naturally, I couldn’t meet that goal. Instead, after work, she invited me for drinks. Come have one with me, she said.

There was no ulterior motive on either side.

Her invitation was so natural, and I agreed just as naturally.

The place was an izakaya with delicious dote katsu. Salarymen were drinking merrily, and we, in our traditional clothes, blended seamlessly into the lively chaos.

As she got tipsy, she talked about breaking up with her college boyfriend.

They’d gone long-distance after she started working, and their days off didn’t align.

It wasn’t because love faded or someone cheated—just practical reasons. Lovers, it seemed, were replaceable. Work, which was harder to replace, became a condition for whether a relationship could work.

It’s not that she was cold. She must’ve had sleepless nights over love in high school too. But as an adult, she’d grown more pragmatic.

In high school, love feels special. But after falling in love multiple times as an adult, maybe it becomes just another recurring phenomenon.

I felt a bit nostalgic for high school.

That delicate distance between boys and girls, even in the same classroom.

Those secret-like romances.

I still carry a trace of that. Seeing high schoolers in uniforms makes me chase those lingering memories. If I could, instead of short-term jobs, I’d love to work at a bar, polishing glasses and peeling potatoes while listening to music.

After she treated me, I thanked her and parted ways, heading to the station with a slightly sentimental mood.

Riding the near-empty late-night train, I felt an inexplicable loneliness. But I have a place to return to.

Stepping off the train, I walked the dark streets. The sound of my geta clogs felt oddly melancholic tonight. Memories can be troublesome.

Quickening my pace, I soon saw the lights of Yamame-sou and Sakura Heights.

But as I turned into the private road, I stopped.

Fukuda-kun and Touno were standing in front of the apartment, chatting happily.

Touno had her hair tied back, wearing a tracksuit top and bottom—maybe post-run, or just casual attire.

Either way, it’s great to see them getting along.

I turned on my heel, deciding to take a longer night stroll before heading back.

Heading east, I reached the Philosopher’s Path, listening to the flow of the Biwako Canal while walking toward Nanzenji.

Everyone’s growing up, bit by bit.

I’ve reached a point where I can go drinking with an older woman without ulterior motives. Maybe one day, I’ll handle love as something easily managed, viewing it pragmatically.

That’s exactly why I wanted to cherish Fukuda-kun’s pure feelings.

Both Fukuda-kun and Touno still carry a youthful innocence in their profiles.

This season might be the last for our generation to face love with such purity.

With that in mind, wandering the night streets to let them continue their sweet conversation felt like nothing at all.

But—

A few days later, Fukuda-kun said,

“I’ve decided to give up on my feelings for Touno-san.”

♤♤♤

It was a few days before Yoiyama, the eve of the Gion Festival.

Fukuda-kun and I were cycling up a mountain path for some stream fishing, aiming for rainbow trout. We cast our lines from a rocky spot shaded by trees.

Amidst dappled sunlight and the chorus of cicadas, we relaxed. Both of us had finished our short-term jobs, returning to our usual routine.

“Why did you decide to give up on Touno?”

I asked.

Fukuda-kun, with a gentle smile, said,

“I went to an agricultural high school.”

It was almost all boys, in the middle of rice paddies, with barely any chances to interact with girls.

“I grew vegetables and took care of horses. I was completely detached from the typical high school romance you hear about. My classmates and I would watch teen movies and laugh, calling them fantasy. But it’s not like I didn’t have a crush.”

There was a girl he saw every morning on the same train.

“Looking back, maybe I liked her because she was the only girl around. But back then, I was genuinely smitten. She was always reading novels on the train. It was rural, but she seemed refined, almost urban.”

He wanted to know what she was reading, what she talked about with friends, if she was athletic, if she took classes seriously, or if she ever rested her cheek on her hand—all sorts of things.

“You couldn’t talk to her, huh?”

“Could you have, Kirishima-kun?”

“It’d be tough.”

He spent his days imagining what it’d be like to date her, where she’d go to university, or if they could’ve been friends if they were classmates. Time passed like that.

“When I became a university student, I’d just watch Touno-san come out of the apartment across the way. Like in high school, I thought it’d end with me just watching forever.”

But it didn’t.

Because during the Higashiyama Summit Mahjong Battle, I cheated to create a connection for him with Touno.

“That Kirishima Erich guy’s something else,”

Fukuda-kun said, chuckling jokingly.

“I can talk to Touno-san normally now, and we’ve spent a lot of time together. We’ve hung out, and we can keep doing that. It’s huge progress. And that’s enough for me.”

Then Fukuda-kun’s rod bent.

He got a bite. It wasn’t a strong pull, being a river fish. He reeled it to the surface, and I scooped it with a net. We unhooked it and let it swim in a net in the river. First catch.

“From what you’re saying,”

I said, watching the rainbow trout Fukuda-kun caught,

“there’s no reason to give up on Touno.”

“True.”

Fukuda-kun prepared another lure, cast his line, and said, as if resigned,

“It’s the same reason Miyamae-san doesn’t tell you she likes you.”

“……What’re we talking about?”

“Play dumb too much, and that elementary schooler’ll punch you again.”

I thought for a moment and said,

“Miyamae’s job is tutoring, right?”

“Exactly. She teaches elementary schoolers. A friend from my department works at the same tutoring center. I heard she’s pretty popular. Her dialect slipping out and her complaints about a goofy kimono guy are apparently a hit.”

That well-raised boy probably has a crush on Teacher Miyamae. And since Teacher Miyamae rants about an annoying kimono guy, he came to deliver justice on her behalf.

“I know Miyamae has some feelings for me. But she doesn’t say ‘I like you’ because I have a girlfriend, Miyuki-chan. Touno doesn’t have a boyfriend, so that’s not a reason for you to give up, Fukuda-kun.”

“That’s not it.”

Miyamae-san doesn’t hold back her feelings because you have a girlfriend, Fukuda-kun said.

“She doesn’t want to ruin our group’s dynamic. Miyamae-san strongly believes in the promise we made for ten years from now.”

“So, you also value our group’s dynamic and don’t want to bring romantic feelings into it.”

“That’s right.”

Love or friendship.

A classic dilemma.

“I respect your choice, Fukuda-kun, but—”

I understand wanting to preserve a comfortable space by choosing friendship.

Sure, romance within a group can lead to awkwardness if a confession is rejected, or even if it works out, a breakup could fracture everything.

But—

“I feel a bit uneasy about it.”

“Huh?”

“Does friendship really get ruined by bringing in romantic feelings? Is it really such a clear-cut binary choice?”

I love this group, so I can’t like this person. I can’t date them.

Movies and dramas often play up that conflict. But is it true? Isn’t it just a convenient struggle crafted for storytelling?

Pure love, portrayed as something beautiful for self-indulgent narratives.

Likewise, the love-versus-friendship dilemma feels like a clichéd conflict designed for stories.

I shared this honestly with Fukuda-kun.

“Is it right to force yourself into that pattern? Facing someone or your feelings seriously—doesn’t that mean thinking deeply without boxing yourself into such patterns?”

“Kirishima-kun……”

“Our relationships aren’t a movie or a novel. Honestly, I don’t know if your feelings for Touno will work out. But I feel like bringing in romantic feelings and whether friendship breaks are separate issues.”

Sure, if things don’t work out and you fall into a self-destructive pattern, it could happen. But we’re not patterns.

What if Touno said, Stuff happened, but I don’t mind?

What if Fukuda-kun could laugh off a rejection?

“We’re not a two-hour movie or a single novel. Even if you get rejected and it’s awkward, it’s not the end. The credits don’t roll. Daidouji-san would probably say, ‘Don’t sweat it, you two,’ and Miyamae and I would back you up.”

So,

“You don’t have to suppress romantic feelings for the sake of friendship. There’s no need to think that way.”

Fukuda-kun chuckled softly.

“Am I saying something weird?”

“No, I’m happy.”

Fukuda-kun said,

“It’s the first time I feel like I’ve seen your soul, Kirishima-kun.”

Then my rod bent. I reeled the trout to the surface, and Fukuda-kun scooped it with the net. We put it in the river net, set up another lure, and cast again.

“You’re right, Kirishima-kun.”

Fukuda-kun returned to his rod, waiting leisurely for a bite, and said,

“I didn’t need to think so extremely. I’ll tell Touno-san how I feel, and if it doesn’t work, we’ll go back to normal. Whether I can do that depends on my effort.”

Looking at the river’s flow, he said shyly,

“I really like Touno-san.”

It’s a precious feeling, I thought.

“You think she’s a goofy, food-obsessed character, Kirishima-kun, but she’s amazing.”

Fukuda-kun has gone to cheer at her volleyball matches.

“She jumps high with a sharp gaze. In those moments, she’s intense. But when a teammate messes up, she switches back to that soft vibe, encouraging them with a smile. I think she’s truly beautiful.”

We fell silent for a while after that.

No fish bit, and time just passed.

“Yoiyama’s coming up soon, huh?”

Fukuda-kun said.

“Yeah, I’m excited.”

“I think I’ll tell Touno-san my feelings.”

“I’ll make sure you and Touno get some alone time that day.”

We promised to go as a group, but I could subtly slip away, pretending to get lost.

“Yoiyama’s got a great atmosphere, so it’s perfect. Touno bought a yukata, so you should wear one too, Fukuda-kun, and walk together. Maybe take some Insta-worthy photos.”

“About that,”

Fukuda-kun said with a slightly troubled look.

“I’m going in regular clothes.”

“……Didn’t you pick up extra shifts to buy a yukata?”

“Yeah, but I bought study guides for my brother instead. He helped a lot with household stuff when I was studying for exams.”

“I see. Touno’s not the type to care if her companion isn’t in a yukata or if it kills the vibe. You don’t need to worry, but—”

I set down my rod, grabbed a paper bag from my bike’s basket, and handed it to Fukuda-kun.

“You saw this coming from the start, didn’t you, Kirishima-kun? I was wondering why you were working at a kimono shop.”

“You wouldn’t accept cash, Fukuda-kun. When they closed the department store event, they let me take some unsold stock. It’s last year’s model, but patterns don’t go out of style, so it’s fine.”

What I handed Fukuda-kun—

It was a men’s yukata.

♤♤♤

And so came Yoiyama, the eve of the Gion Festival.

As the ultimate assist king, I planned to set Fukuda-kun up with the perfect final pass.

A summer night, the two of them in yukata, fanning themselves with uchiwa as they walked together—that’s the scene I wanted to create. But—

“Kirishima-san, wait! What’s going on?!”

“Stop following me!”

I ended up in a chase with Touno.

Amid the festival music, weaving through people happily eating shaved ice, I ran west along the pedestrian-only Shijo Street.

Majestic yamaboko floats passed by—Kakkyoyama, Tsukihoko, Kankohoko, Naginatahoko.

Touno’s faster than me. Normally, she’d catch up quickly. But in an unfamiliar yukata and geta, I had the upper hand in traditional attire.

“Why~?! Why~?!”

“Just go back, Touno~!”

How did this happen?

First, as the sun began to set, we headed to the festival. Touno and Miyamae were in yukata, holding kago kinchaku bags, embodying the essence of a Japanese summer. Miyamae’s yukata had a bright sunflower pattern.

Fukuda-kun was in a yukata too, but Daidouji-san and I wore kimonos. Daidouji-san had passed down Yamame-sou’s traditional kimono to me, but after switching back to regular clothes, he couldn’t forget the comfort and secretly bought another. His girlfriend, upon learning this, made a very sour face.

Anyway, the five of us walked the streets together. We ate candied apples, took Insta-worthy photos in front of yamaboko, and posted them on SNS.

Touno and Miyamae were having a blast. Their profiles, smiling softly behind uchiwa fans, their napes visible with hair pinned up, strands of hair dangling gracefully.

Once the festival atmosphere had worked its magic, I figured it was time.

While Touno and Fukuda-kun were gazing at a yamaboko, I exchanged a nod with Daidouji-san.

“Let’s grab some yakisoba.”

I said, trying to leave with Miyamae. But—

“Where’re you going?”

Touno noticed.

“Just…… to get some yakisoba.”

“Oh, I’ll eat some! I’m coming too!”

This would ruin the plan. So we started running.

“Miyamae, run!”

“Why?! Why?!”

Miyamae followed despite her protests.

The problem was, Touno followed too. I told her to stay with Fukuda-kun, but she wouldn’t listen. I’d instructed Fukuda-kun to say, They’re not coming back, huh? I’m tired—wanna sit by the Kamogawa and wait? and lead her to the famous Kamogawa riverbank, where couples sit at regular intervals. On a festival night, the romantic atmosphere would surely spark something.

“We’ll lose Touno here!”

At the intersection, Daidouji-san said,

“I’ll go straight. Kirishima, left. Miyamae, right!”

“How’ll we meet up?”

“I’ll play the morin khuur, so follow the sound. It’ll carry well tonight.”

“I don’t get this vibe……”

Miyamae tilted her head.

“Scatter!”

So we split at the intersection, but since Touno chased after me, a grand chase through Kyoto’s night began.

Ane, San, Rokkaku, Tako, Nishiki.

Karasuma, Muromachi, Shinmachi, Nishinotoin.

Crisscrossing the grid of streets freely.

“Go back, Touno! If this keeps up, my Perfect Kyoto Plan will be ruined!”

“What’s that?!”

“My business!”

The Perfect Kyoto Plan is my strategy until university graduation.

Right now, the five of us are close, with genuine friendship. On the romance front, Daidouji-san and I have girlfriends and are stable. For the other three, I’ll first assist Fukuda-kun’s love. It’s his choice, so I can’t force it, but I’ll help as much as possible and ensure things don’t get awkward if it fails.

As for Miyamae, she’s a bit too attached to me, but she wants a boyfriend, so I’ll help her avoid shady guys.

My role here is the kuroko, the supporting player.

But it’s about making everyone happy, and most importantly, it avoids conflict and hurting anyone. It’s a plan to perfect my life in Kyoto. So I have to see it through.

Thanks to that resolve, Touno’s voice gradually faded behind me.

Touno was slowing down.

I thought I’d won and looked back—

But I stopped in my tracks without her catching up.

Touno…… was barefoot.

Indeed, I’d only heard her voice for a while, not the sound of her geta. Running barefoot on asphalt like this must’ve been painful.

Her soles might be bleeding.

Thinking that, Touno, with tears in her eyes, smiled and said,

“Ehehe…… I finally caught up.”

♤♤♤

I was carrying Touno on my back.

Since she’s taller, I almost said, “Heavy—” but got a headbutt to the back of my head.

After walking a while, I found her geta on the ground. She’d run a long distance barefoot. I sat her on the roadside, went to a pharmacy, and bought disinfectant and bandages.

Touno was shy about me touching her feet but eventually let me. Her pale feet were soft, but her soles were covered in scrapes.

“My bad.”

I disinfected and bandaged the bleeding spots.

“It hurts to walk, so carry me.”

So I carried her again.

What were Fukuda-kun and the others doing? Maybe they’d gathered on Shijo Street. As I pondered, Touno suddenly spoke.

“……Weren’t you getting yakisoba?”

“……Yeah.”

Still on my back, Touno skillfully bought yakisoba from a stall and started eating.

“Want some, Kirishima-san?”

She held out chopsticks with yakisoba from behind.

“That’s my cheek.”

“Go ahead, eat.”

“I said, that’s my cheek. Are you mad? You’re mad, aren’t you?”

That exchange ended once we ate the yakisoba, and we fell silent.

Not knowing what to say, I walked with the crowd, carrying Touno.

“Let’s go that way.”

“That’s away from the festival.”

“……Let’s go.”

Touno insisted, so we moved away from the main street.

The festival’s noise faded.

A quiet night path.

Touno’s warmth reached me through my back. Her soft hair swayed, brushing my neck.

In the night, I kept feeling Touno’s breathing. Her chest rose and fell faintly with each breath.

Touno was undeniably alive, there on my back. I kept sensing the outline of that emotion.

After a while, I said,

“There’s nothing ahead.”

“……There’s Gojo Bridge.”

“Let’s head back. Everyone’s waiting.”

I set Touno down. She looked a bit sulky but followed slowly as I started walking.

“Your feet okay?”

“The bandages help.”

We retraced our steps.

“Fukuda-kun comes to cheer at your matches, right?”

“Yes.”

“He’s a good guy.”

“Yeah, I think he’s nice.”

Touno was walking fine.

“Fukuda-kun’s family runs a farm.”

“He told me.”

“Know why he chose agriculture?”

“……It’s hot tonight, huh?”

“To make his parents’ work easier, he wants to develop rice that’s pest-resistant and yields more.”

“Let’s cool off by the Kamogawa before heading back.”

“You don’t find family-oriented guys like that often.”

“I’m thirsty.”

We walked at a steady pace.

The sound of our geta.

“Recently, he bought study guides for his brother.”

“Kirishima-san.”

“Not just family—he’s kind to everyone.”

“You don’t have to talk anymore.”

“When I caught a cold, he brought me medicine and an ice pillow.”

“Please, just be quiet.”

“I wanted to be kind and giving because of Fukuda-kun.”

“Enough already.”

“If you’re picking a boyfriend, it’s gotta be Fukuda-kun.”

That’s when it happened.

“Enough! You’re such an idiot, Kirishima-san!”

A light impact hit my back.

Touno had thrown her kinchaku bag at me.

Turning around, I saw her tearful face glaring at me.

And with a sharp look, she said,

“You’ve known all along that I like you!”

She was right. I’d known for a while. The day I went to cheer at her volleyball match, she leaned on me and fell asleep on the train home. But it was a fake sleep, and I noticed her face flush with nervousness. There were other moments like that too. But—

“I have a girlfriend……”

“No, you don’t! There’s no such person as Tachibana Miyuki!”

Touno said emotionally.

“No, she’s real……”

“Even if she was, it’s just a name! A fake girlfriend!”

“We hung out as a group of four……”

“That wasn’t Tachibana Miyuki! She wasn’t even a high schooler! You used a stand-in to make it seem like your made-up girlfriend was real!”

Chasing Insta-worthy spots, the four of us visited various places. Some temples charged admission. With student discounts, we showed our IDs. That’s when she saw it.

The short girl we hung out with—

“It was Hamanami Megumi-san!”