The festival grounds felt different now.
No longer a classroom café or a concert venue, the school had become something else entirely—part open-air market, part amusement park, part nostalgic daydream. Students in casual clothes strolled through the makeshift stalls, their uniforms left behind in the classrooms. Paper lanterns swayed overhead. The smell of grilled yakitori and candied apples clung to the warm summer air.
It was the final evening of the school festival.
The clean-up teams were off duty. The teachers had relaxed their usual hawk-eyed patrols. And for once, Saito Kagami stood among his peers not as the sarcastic voice of reason or as a behind-the-scenes assistant.
He was just another student at the festival.
And for some reason, that felt... novel.
"Serious-face-kun!"
He turned at the sound of the nickname, now as familiar as his own name.
Riko waved at him from beside a goldfish scooping stall, dressed in a loose white shirt and light-blue skirt, a small fan tucked under her arm.
"You came!"
"I was obligated to."
She smirked. "No vest today? I almost didn't recognize you without the butler aesthetic."
Saito tugged slightly at the collar of his t-shirt. "I have seven identical ones. This is one of them."
"Of course it is."
She fell into step beside him, hands behind her back as they walked.
"Come on. Let's hit some stalls. You've barely done anything for yourself this entire festival."
"I dislike overspending on underwhelming activities."
"That's why I'm in charge of the budget," she said, reaching into her bag and pulling out a strip of food tickets. "Let's call this... a friendship grant."
"I wasn't aware our relationship qualified for funding."
"Temporary, one-time offer. No extensions."
They moved through the crowd, weaving past classmates, dodging water balloons, and taste-testing yakisoba that Riko insisted was "life-changing." Saito, to his own surprise, didn't find the experience unpleasant.
They tried the ring toss, where Riko somehow managed to land one on the narrow-necked cola bottle and immediately struck a triumphant pose, declaring herself "Queen of the Festival."
At the next booth, she tried to win a stuffed cat plush with a claw machine that clearly hadn't been calibrated since 1997.
Saito stood behind her.
"It's rigged."
"I know," she muttered, eyes narrowed in concentration. "But I'm emotionally invested now."
"It's not a sound investment."
"You're not a sound investment."
He blinked. "Statistically, I am."
She laughed so hard she nearly dropped the joystick.
As dusk settled in, the crowd thickened near the open field where the fireworks were scheduled.
Blankets had been laid out across the grass. Students sat in loose circles, chatting, eating takoyaki, sipping fizzy drinks. There was a hum in the air—not just of excitement, but something warmer. Like everyone was collectively holding their breath, hoping the night wouldn't end too soon.
Saito stood at the edge of the field, watching the sky dim from cobalt to velvet.
"It's going to be crowded," he said.
"Yup."
"People will be loud."
"Probably."
He glanced down. "There's also a 76% chance of mosquitos."
"I've already been bitten twice."
"…Then why are we here?"
"Because," Riko said, turning to face him with her hands on her hips, "some moments are worth the hassle."
He didn't reply.
She grinned. "C'mon. I've got a better idea."
The stairwell up to the school's rooftop was mostly unused.
Technically, it was supposed to be locked after club hours. Technically, students weren't allowed up there without a teacher.
Technically, Riko had a bobby pin and a mischievous streak that made rules more like… suggestions.
"Don't look at me like that," she whispered as she popped the lock with practiced precision. "You're complicit now."
"I'll report myself after."
They stepped into the open night.
The rooftop was quiet. The noise of the festival below was distant, muffled. From here, the school grounds looked like a painting—soft lights, strings of color, tiny figures in motion.
And above it all, the sky.
Clear. Sprawling.
A deep navy blue, waiting.
Riko stood at the railing, wind brushing strands of hair from her face. Saito stood beside her, hands in his pockets.
Neither said anything for a long moment.
Then—
The first firework launched.
A quick screech of ascent, followed by a boom.
A burst of gold scattered across the sky like glitter on ink.
Riko's eyes lit up. "They started!"
She leaned forward, arms folded on the rail, watching as another firework—green this time—burst in a shower of sparks.
Saito didn't react outwardly.
But something in his chest shifted.
The sky lit up again.
Red. Then blue. Then a cascade of white chrysanthemums.
Each explosion reflected in Riko's eyes.
Saito glanced at her out of the corner of his vision.
And suddenly—time folded in.
The first time he heard her voice: calling him "serious-face-kun" from across the classroom.
The ruler she borrowed.
The rumors.
The rooftop lunch.
The café.
The concert.
Memory piled upon memory like layered sparks in the night.
And for the first time in a long time, the pattern made sense.
Riko hadn't disrupted his routine.
She'd given it color.
Another firework painted the sky violet.
Saito spoke.
"…Riko."
She turned to him, eyebrows raised slightly.
"Hm?"
The lights reflected off her cheek.
The wind tugged at the edge of her sleeve.
Saito looked at her.
Fully.
No equations. No footnotes.
Just her.
And then—
He smiled.
Not faintly. Not politely.
A real smile.
Sincere.
Soft.
Alive.
"You're right," he said.
Riko blinked.
"About what?"
He looked back toward the sky.
"This was fun."
She stared at him.
For a second, the fireworks didn't matter.
The festival didn't matter.
Just him.
That smile.
It wasn't big. It wasn't flashy.
But it reached his eyes.
She felt her throat tighten.
"…Took you long enough," she said, her voice quieter than usual.
Another firework exploded—this one white and gold, shaped like a blooming flower.
Saito didn't look away from the sky.
But the edges of his smile lingered.
Neither of them spoke again.
They didn't need to.
The fireworks spoke for them.
Color.
Sound.
Memory.
And something new blooming in the quiet space between words.
When the final burst echoed across the night, the rooftop fell still.
The sky returned to black.
The festival was over.
But the echo of it—the feeling—remained.
Saito turned to her one last time as they headed back down the stairwell.
"…Thank you," he said.
She raised an eyebrow. "For what?"
"For dragging me here."
Riko tilted her head, smirking.
"Anytime..."