The fireworks faded.
One by one, the lanterns continued down the river, their light thinning as distance swallowed them. The crowd began to move again—laughter, footsteps, voices returning to life—but Reine Aoyama stayed still.
So did Reuko Hanazawa.
For a strange moment, it felt like the festival had paused just for them.
"Well…" Reuko said softly, fingers clasped in front of her. "I should probably head back."
Reine nodded, even though something in him resisted the idea.
"Yeah."
Neither of them moved.
The river flowed. The night breathed.
"…Which way are you going?" he asked, surprising himself again.
She pointed toward the street lined with food stalls. "That way. My house is a bit far, so I'll take the train."
"I'm… the opposite," Reine replied, gesturing toward a quieter road.
Another pause.
"Then," she said, smiling politely, "this is goodbye."
Goodbye.
The word landed heavier than it should have—for someone he had known less than an hour.
"…I guess so."
She bowed slightly, the way people did when they didn't know what else to do with their hands or their feelings.
"It was really nice meeting you, Aoyama-kun."
"Hanazawa-san," he replied.
She took a step back.
Then another.
After three steps, she turned.
"Reine."
He looked up instantly.
She hesitated, as if debating with herself, then asked, "Do you… come to festivals often?"
"No," he answered honestly. "This is rare."
She smiled at that. A little brighter this time.
"I hope," she said, "that rare things happen again."
And then she turned and disappeared into the moving crowd, her blue yukata blending into the lantern-lit street.
Reine stood there long after she was gone.
---
Three Days Later
Summer holidays settled in slowly.
Mornings stretched longer. Afternoons melted into heat and cicada cries. Days felt wide and empty, like pages waiting to be filled.
Reine spent most of his time walking.
Through quiet neighborhoods. Past closed school gates. Along the river where the lanterns had once floated.
He told himself he was just bored.
But every time he passed the railing, his eyes searched—pointlessly—for pale blue fabric and a gentle smile.
It was just a meeting, he reminded himself.
A coincidence.
And yet.
---
On the fourth day, clouds gathered thick and heavy, the kind that pressed down on the city without rain. Reine ducked into a small shrine near the shopping district, more to escape the humidity than for prayer.
Wind chimes rang softly above the entrance.
Someone else was already there.
She stood under the eaves, holding a folded pamphlet, hair tied differently this time—lower, looser.
For half a second, his brain refused to process it.
Then—
"…Hanazawa-san?"
She turned.
Her eyes widened.
"Aoyama-kun?"
The space between them felt charged, like the moment before thunder.
"You—" she started. "You're here?"
"So are you," he replied, dumbly.
She laughed—a soft, surprised sound—and covered her mouth with one hand.
"I can't believe this."
Neither could he.
They stood there, awkward again, but in a different way this time. Familiar. Warm.
"Do you live nearby?" Reine asked.
She nodded. "A little walk from here. I come when I need to think."
He hesitated, then admitted, "Me too."
Her smile changed—gentler, more personal.
Outside, the wind picked up, rustling the trees. A single drop of rain fell between them, darkening the stone.
"…Looks like we're stuck here for a bit," Reuko said.
Reine glanced at the sky. "Yeah."
Silence returned—but it didn't feel empty anymore.
They sat on the shrine steps, leaving a careful space between them.
"What school do you go to?" she asked.
He answered.
Her expression shifted slightly. "Ah… I'm not there."
So it was true.
Different paths. Different uniforms. Different worlds.
"I thought maybe…" she said quietly, trailing off.
"It's okay," Reine said, though he wasn't sure why he felt relieved she'd noticed too.
Rain began to fall properly now, soft but steady.
"I'm glad," Reuko said after a moment, eyes on the wet stone, "that we met again."
Reine looked at her profile—the calm curve of her lashes, the way her hands rested neatly in her lap.
"…Me too."
The rain hid the sound of his heartbeat.
They talked then—not about anything important. Favorite drinks. Quiet places. How summer felt longer when you were alone.
Time slipped.
When the rain stopped, evening had crept in.
"Well," Reuko said reluctantly, standing up. "I should go."
Reine stood too.
This time, the goodbye felt different.
"Hanazawa-san," he said, before she could leave. "Would you… want to meet again?"
She froze.
Slowly, she turned back.
Her smile this time wasn't polite.
It was hopeful.
"I was thinking the same thing," she said.
Summer didn't feel empty anymore.