The first week of summer vacation.
The sun beat down on the streets, making the air feel thick and difficult to breathe. The heat rose from the ground in small waves. The buzzing of cicadas filled the streets, loud and never-ending.
The people moved through all this, tired and agitated. Some wiped sweat off their brows as they walked through the streets. Others rushed by, trying to get away from the heat. Children ran around with melting ice cream cones, laughing without a worry in the world.
Everything felt busy. Loud. Hot.
But a little further away, things started to calm down.
Near a small playground, the noise faded. Trees cast uneven shade over the footpath, giving small pockets of relief from the sun. The sounds of the city turned distant, replaced by the soft creak of swings and leaves moving in the wind.
Hayato walked along the heavenly paths cast by shadows while eating the greatest invention of all time — ice cream.
Hayato held his ice cream up proudly like he was holding a sword.
Haa… vacations and ice cream.
I love summer.
His smile widened.
"Hey watch out.." a voice called out from the playground.
Hayato opened his eyes and turned but it was too late. A football came flying, knocking his ice cream down.
His face went wide — eyes popping out like they were about to fall out of his head, mouth hanging open in total shock, eyebrows shooting straight up. A tiny drop of melted ice cream still sat on his lip as he watched the cone tilt, wobble, and drop in slow motion.
Down…
Down…
plop.
Right onto the ground. The sad little splat sound hit his ears like the end of everything good.
He stood there like statue.
A kid the same age as Hayato came running, sneakers kicking up dust, face shiny with sweat.
"Ahh… sorry about that, could you pass me the ball please," the kid said, breathing hard.
Hayato bent down, picking up the ball.
"It's okay, I'm Hayato. What's your name?"
"Uhh… Takashi."
"Ahh… Takashi, could you come a little closer? I can't throw that far," Hayato said, forcing a smile that looked way too sweet.
Takashi came a little closer, smiling back, all friendly and clueless.
Hayato's smile crooked a little. He tightened his grip, forcing out all his strength, and he threw the ball straight into Takashi's face.
The ball slapped into his face, sending him backward. Takashi's eyes squeezed shut, cheeks puffed out like a hamster, mouth twisted in a goofy "ow" shape as he hit the ground.
Hayato put his hand on his stomach and started laughing, shoulders shaking hard.
"That's what you get for wasting my ice cream you little shit."
Takashi rubbed his face. "You bastard."
He pointed behind Hayato. "Look an ice cream truck."
Hayato quickly turned around, all excited, but there was nothing behind except the empty road. "There's no ice cream truck."
Just as Hayato turned, Takashi was standing right in front of him with sand in his hand aimed at Hayato.
"Secret sand technique," Takashi called out, eyes wide and silly like he was in a cartoon.
Before Takashi could throw it, Hayato blew into his hand, scattering the sand right back into Takashi's eyes. Takashi rolled on the floor screaming, hands rubbing his face like crazy, legs kicking up more dust.
"Who in the right mind announces their secret move you idiot," Hayato asked, one eyebrow raised high.
Takashi jumped up at Hayato. They both started fighting, throwing punches at each other — some missed completely, some landed with soft thuds, elbows bumping, feet tripping over nothing.
They stopped mid-fight from the floor and looked at the sidewalk. A kid same age as them stood there staring at them with disgust, holding his ice cream. His nose was wrinkled, one eyebrow way up, lips pressed together like he smelled old socks.
"What, you wanna join?" Hayato asked, still catching his breath.
The kid took a bite and said, "Ahh! I wish I could, but I don't want to." He walked away eating his ice cream, steps nice and calm.
Takashi got up slowly and grabbed his football and gave it to Hayato.
Hayato took it without hesitation.
Hayato looked at the ball and then at the kid.
Without a second thought he raised the ball and straight at him.
The ball hit the kid's ice cream. His face went through stages of shock just like Hayato's — eyes growing huge, mouth dropping open bit by bit, eyebrows climbing higher and higher, cheeks going pale then red as he watched it fall…
plop.
The kid turned and looked at them.
Both Hayato and Takashi stood there smirking.
He picked up the ball slowly and forcing a small smile. "I'm gonna kill you both."
The three of them started fighting on the playground — throwing sand, kicking the football, swinging punches that mostly missed. Their laughter filled the air, loud and wild, mixing with the creak of swings and the buzz of distant cicadas.
The sun slowly went down, the sky painted orange.
The three of them lay on the playground looking up at the sky, breathing heavy, sand stuck all over their sweaty arms and necks.
"Hey, I'm Hayato and that guy is Takashi. What's your name?" Hayato asked.
"Tatsuya," he replied.
"Nice to meet you Tatsuya," Takashi said smiling.
"It was anything but nice'." Tatsuya replied.
The three of them stood up, brushing sand off their clothes with lazy slaps.
"Will you guys come to play tomorrow also," Takashi asked, eyes hopeful.
"Stay away from me," Hayato and Tatsuya said in unison.
"Ehhh," Takashi protested, face dropping like a sad puppy.
They all turned and went their way. Takashi went running to the playground toilet, still rubbing his eyes. Tatsuya went back to buy another ice cream. Hayato decided to go home.
Hayato stepped into the sidewalk heading to his home. He noticed his ice cream now all melted into a sticky puddle. He walked past it, hands in his pockets.
"I hate summer."