Misaki Town in 1985 wasn't exactly the countryside—but it wasn't exactly thriving, either.
Around dinnertime, if you walked along the roads, you'd see students trickling out after school. The things they talked about almost always revolved around faraway cities.
Fried chicken, cola, french fries—foreign stuff like that was far more tempting than old-fashioned ramen and miso soup.
On weekends they'd take the train into the big, bustling city to enjoy department-store complexes and karaoke boxes.
Trendy new phrases kept spilling from their mouths.
And thanks to the size of Japan itself, the distance between cities wasn't nearly as far as people imagined.
A few hours by train was enough to reach basically any nearby major city.
The young people in this little town, once they hit a certain age, would rush toward the horizon as fast as they could—if not all the way to the metropolis, then at least to the next-tier Kanbuki City.
Almost nobody wanted to stay in this town and inherit the family business that had been here for generations.
Heading to a distant city and making something of yourself—that was what "success" looked like in everyone's mind.
In the past, Sora had also dreamed of leaving town with Aoko and going somewhere far away.
But the "far away" they imagined was never "go to a big city and work for someone else."
Everything that develops has a price.
A prosperous city offered a life that outshone small-town living—but the cost was the young people who hurried into it.
A flame, fed by firewood, burned higher and higher, drawing even more people to throw themselves into it.
Those who cheered around the bonfire, after tasting a little of its warmth, always mistook that dazzling light as something that belonged to them.
Never realizing that they themselves were only firewood.
"Old towns have their own advantages," Sora muttered. "At least any place that can survive here is a real long-standing shop with a reputation. The food's always solid."
Ding-ling—
With the chime of a bell, Sora lifted the noren curtain and stepped into an old shop near Misaki High School.
It was a classic mom-and-pop place: the husband cooked, the wife handled service.
If Sora remembered right, the couple had a son about his age.
The father had wanted that son to inherit the restaurant.
But like so many young people now, the boy—who should've been apprenticing and helping in the shop—had zero interest in taking over his parents' work.
He'd gone to Tokyo early to try his luck.
The couple seemed genuinely heartbroken over it.
But Sora, knowing what the future held, understood perfectly well that the false prosperity and manic frenzy after 1985 would shatter in a very short time.
That son—if he didn't end up as one of those who threw themselves off buildings—would most likely return to this town after losing everything and inherit his father's shop anyway.
A lot of Japan's so-called "hundred-year culinary houses" would end up being born from exactly this sort of cycle.
When the economy turned completely bleak and there was no way out—
Children inheriting their parents' trade, generation after generation, doing the same work—
That became the best option.
"Hope the kid makes it," Sora murmured.
Then, as if it were nothing, he walked on.
Because he was familiar with the owners, he greeted the couple casually, then headed toward the private room Aoko had reserved.
When he reached the doorway curtain, he could see through the gap that someone was already seated inside.
Sora's steps stalled, almost involuntarily.
Then, with a self-mocking shake of his head, he reached out and lifted the curtain anyway, stepping in.
Why had his mind been so noisy the whole way here?
Because he was nervous.
On the phone, he'd acted calm and unbothered about being dumped by Aoko.
But as childhood friends who'd grown up together and become lovers—
How could he possibly be truly unbothered?
And when he entered the room, what he saw made him pause for a beat.
It wasn't the one-person meeting he'd imagined.
Besides the familiar Aoko Aozaki, there was another girl in black.
"So you're nervous about meeting me alone, so you brought a chaperone?" Sora said as he walked in.
The first words out of his mouth carried a faint edge of rejection.
Aoko glanced at him with a breezy, unbothered look—and fired back, dripping with sarcasm.
"And isn't it you who's nervous? You're the one who said we should part on good terms, remember? Bringing someone along is perfectly normal. Or what—does Alice being here make you uncomfortable?"
As she spoke, Sora's gaze naturally shifted to the black-clad girl seated beside her.
She was the kind of girl who stunned you at first sight.
She sat there quietly, yet her presence seemed to seize control of the entire atmosphere.
A slender figure, snow-white skin, hair falling to her shoulders—black so pure it looked completely untainted.
The first impression was dissonance.
Her distance and coldness were so absolute, it felt like she shouldn't exist in the real world at all.
Could someone with an aura like this really exist in modern society?
The question rose unbidden in his mind.
Before he could answer it for himself—
"Kuonji Alice."
The cold girl looked straight at him and calmly gave her name.
"Arato Sora."
Sora introduced himself in return.
And then the icy girl began to study him with quiet, black eyes.
Alice was here to observe Aoko's conversation with Sora.
For a fairy-tale witch, "I want to" was reason enough—she did what she pleased.
And as Aoko's magecraft mentor, she did have the standing to "review" Aoko's love life.
If things had followed the original course, then after taking one look at Sora, Alice would've lowered her eyes and fallen silent—an outsider to this reunion.
Because Kuonji Alice, yearning to witness what love truly looked like, didn't want her presence to interfere with the interaction between Sora and Aoko.
But…
Her black eyes widened just slightly.
Still staring at Sora, Alice curled her index finger faintly, sinking into thought.
"Did something happen?" Aoko asked, noticing her housemate's unusual reaction.
"Nothing," the witch replied, shaking her head.
And yet, the way she kept her gaze locked onto Sora looked like the opposite of "nothing."
As someone from the hidden world, Kuonji Alice was, in truth, always closer to Touko than to Aoko.
She'd worked with Touko Aozaki more than once in the past.
And because of that—
The witch had sensed it.
On Arato Sora, there was the unmistakable trace of Touko Aozaki's magecraft.
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