The summer festival arrived faster than anyone expected.
By the time flyers blanketed the school walls and booths were being hammered together near the old shrine, it was all anyone could talk about. Who was going with who. What kind of food they'd try first. Whether anyone would confess under the bloom of fireworks.
Haruki hadn't paid it much attention until Miyako barged into his room like a storm wrapped in excitement, arms full of fabric.
"Pick one!" she declared breathlessly, thrusting two yukata into his face. "We're matching."
Haruki blinked, still halfway into a nap. "...Matching what?"
"Our outfits," she said, exasperated like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Couple yukata. Look mine has little cranes flying across a pink sky, and yours has stylized ocean waves. It's totally aesthetic."
"You already bought mine?" he asked, voice flat with disbelief.
She shrugged, smirking. "I already tried it on you while you were asleep last week."
"You what"
"Just pick, Haruki."
His eyes flicked between the two navy with silver waves or the white one with indigo trim then back at her glowing face.
He sighed. "...The navy one."
"Good. It looks better on you anyway," she said, plopping down on his bed and brushing invisible lint off the sleeve. "Also, it matches my sash."
When festival night finally came, Haruki felt like he'd been dropped into a dream.
The streets were alive with color and movement. Paper lanterns swung gently from strings overhead, glowing like captured stars. The air was thick with scent grilled corn, roasted chestnuts, takoyaki sizzling on open pans, the sweetness of candied apples and syrup-coated ice.
Families wandered between stalls. Kids ran with sparklers in their hands, their laughter cutting through the air like wind chimes.
And then there was her.
Miyako stood beneath a lantern archway, spinning slowly in her pink and white yukata, the crane patterns flowing like they might lift off. Her hair was swept up in a loose bun, soft strands framing her cheeks, and a single camellia pin was tucked just above her ear.
When Haruki approached, momentarily stunned silent, she caught him staring.
A sly smile curled her lips. "Caught you. Didn't think I could look this cute, huh?"
"I didn't say that," he mumbled.
"You didn't have to." She winked and grabbed his arm. "Let's go, ocean boy."
They did everything.
Goldfish scoopingnMiyako plunged in too fast and splashed herself, shrieking as the fish slipped through her paper scoop.
"I was so close!" she yelled as Haruki laughed behind his sleeve.
"You scared the goldfish more than caught them."
They split a stick of takoyaki Haruki bit in too soon and instantly regretted it.
"Hot, hot, hot!" he hissed, fanning his mouth.
"You've been to like six festivals and still forget takoyaki is lava inside?" she teased, biting hers with ease.
At the shooting gallery, Miyako lined up her shot with ridiculous focus and won a stuffed white rabbit with a ribbon around its neck.
"Name it," she said, handing it over.
"...Usagi?"
"Boring. Try again."
Haruki gave her a look but tucked the plush into his sleeve anyway, the rabbit's ears sticking out like an accidental fashion choice.
Eventually, they found a stone ledge near the shrine, a little ways away from the buzz and bustle. The crowds became background noise. Between them sat a half-eaten ball of cotton candy, slowly melting into its stick.
The night was quieter here.
Miyako dangled her legs over the edge, feet swinging lazily. "I like nights like this," she said softly. "Where we can just pretend we're… you know, normal."
Haruki glanced over. "You think we're not?"
She tilted her head toward him, eyes thoughtful. "We got fake married before we kissed. That's peak anime."
He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Yeah. That sounds about right."
For a moment, they didn't speak. The crickets chirped in the grass, and a soft breeze tugged at the lanterns above them.
Then she leaned a little closer, close enough he could smell the faint peach blossom scent of her hair.
"You know," she murmured, voice barely above the hum of the night, "if you wanted to kiss me tonight… under the fireworks… I wouldn't hate it."
Haruki opened his mouth to respond
but the first firework exploded above them, a sharp crack that bloomed into a radiant wheel of red and gold. Gasps rose from the crowd below as the sky came alive with light.
Miyako's eyes reflected it all. Color danced across her face warm, wild, and beautiful.
She didn't look at him.
And he didn't kiss her.
Not yet.
But he slid his hand into hers, weaving their fingers together.
He held on tighter than before.
And in that quiet heartbeat between each firework's thunderous bloom, both of them knew:
Next time, it wouldn't be "almost."
It would be real.
And it would mean everything.