Episode Thirty-Four
“Sorry to keep you waiting. I got you melon. You liked that one, right?”
“…Yeah. I like it.”
“…Glad. Should we find somewhere to sit?”
I took the cup of shaved ice and grabbed hold of Ao’s arm as she looked around, glancing here and there. She looked faintly surprised, but I took her hand and led her slowly out of view.
“D— do you know somewhere good?”
“Yeah. Around the back, there shouldn’t be anyone.”
Skirting the edge of the square brings you out behind the shrine. Nobody had been there last year either, and it seemed like a good spot to sit and talk.
The further we got from the square, the further the drums and flutes of the festival receded, until a set of stone steps came into view, lit by a stark, colourless streetlamp. Just as I’d expected, there was no one around.
“It’s quiet back here, isn’t it nice?”
“Huh. You really know this place well.”
“Found it by accident last year. Want to sit?”
I spread my handkerchief where Ao would sit and lowered myself onto the steps beside her. The hard stone was uncomfortable, but I didn’t think there was room to be picky about where we sat.
“…Thanks. You’re kind, Yuna.”
“You’re wearing a nice yukata, don’t want to get it dirty.”
I murmured it, both hands wrapped around my cup of shaved ice. My palms had gone cold enough to sting, and yet that alone wasn’t enough to cool whatever was burning somewhere deeper inside me.
“Want to… take a photo?”
I said it, and Ao pulled her phone from her drawstring purse and leaned in close. The cool feel of her yukata against my leg where they touched came through clearly.
I could hear my own heart pounding hard, thudding away. Some sweet scent drifted past — whether it was the shaved ice syrup or something else, I couldn’t tell.
“Ha ha. Yuna, you’re making such a cute face.”
Please don’t call me cute. If you do, I won’t be able to stop myself.
On the phone screen: the two of us, my face flushed bright red and looking somewhere close to dazed. Dim lighting, an awkward smile with none of the festival atmosphere in it at all. And yet I thought it was the best photo we’d taken so far.
“I want… a photo of Ao too.”
“Oh, sure… okay.”
Wanting to keep this yukata-clad Ao locked away, I pressed the shutter again and again. I want to keep every one of her expressions. I want so many more versions of Ao.
“Y— you’re taking too many. Let me take some of you too.”
The water pooling beneath the cup of shaved ice set down beside the steps kept spreading, slowly getting larger. I think the shaved ice was never anything more than an excuse to get the two of us alone.
“This one came out well. You’re cute, Yuna.”
The small light of the phone lit Ao’s face faintly. I couldn’t look away from her fingers, tracing over my image on the screen again and again, as if checking something.
“Ao… look this way.”
“Hm? What—”
I touched Ao’s lips.
The thing I’d only ever followed with my eyes for a whole year was far softer, far sweeter than I’d imagined. If it felt this good, I should have done this so much sooner.
I wanted more. I kept tasting the feel of her again and again, like something being nibbled at. Just as I pulled back for a moment and started leaning in again, whatever time had frozen started moving once more.
“—!”
I could hear my own breathing. Ragged and loud, the kind that shakes your shoulders.
Ao stayed frozen, eyes wide, unmoving.
She wasn’t refusing me. But I had no idea if she’d accepted it either. I had no way of knowing what was going through her head while she stayed like that, completely still.
“Th— that’s not… I didn’t—”
“…It’s not not that either, but.”
I didn’t understand what I’d just done. Taking photos of Ao, having her take photos of me. And then, before I knew it, our lips had touched.
Impulsively, selfishly. Without any thought at all for what Ao might want.
“…Yuna.”
“Sorry!!”
I screamed loud enough that it must have carried all the way back to the square, turned my back on the steps, and ran as fast as I could. I thought I heard Ao’s voice somewhere behind me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look back.
I kept running full speed through the crowd, straight for the torii gate. The orange glow of the stalls and lanterns, the crush of people, all of it blurred past behind me. My throat burned like it was on fire, but I didn’t want to stop. If I stopped, I felt like I wouldn’t be able to move again.
The shape of the torii gate had just come into focus when my stumbling body was caught by someone.
“Whoa— are you okay?”
“Are you hurt—”
“…Yuna?”
The worst. I didn’t want to run into anyone. And of all people, I’d run into the one I least wanted to see.
“Why… are you crying?”
“Onee-chan, is she your friend?”
A small child’s voice reached me. A boy and a girl. I couldn’t care less who they were right now.
“Ah… no, um… sorry.”
I shook Fuuka off and staggered away again, fleeing the festival drums as though escaping something.
I’d done something terrible to the person I love most, and now I was shaking off my dearest friend to run away too. Truly finished, as a person. I was supposed to be someone serious. I was supposed to be someone who never did anything worth being scolded for. And now, after doing something this awful, my own tears kept spilling out selfishly, and I hated myself for it.
The one who should be crying right now is Ao. Not me.
“Sorry. I’m really sorry. Ao… Ao…”
Sitting on a station bench, I kept repeating it into my hands like some kind of delirious mutter. There was no way she could hear me. An apology that never reaches anyone means nothing at all.
If I ran back right now, I think I’d still make it in time. Ao’s kind — if I apologised properly, she’d probably forgive me. So I should just go back.
There was no way I could do something like that. Forgive me for what, exactly? What was there to even forgive in a stepsister who’d suddenly kissed her out of nowhere, with no context at all? It had felt so happy just moments ago, and now there was nothing but regret. I want to see Ao. I want to hear her voice. I want to touch her again.
Whatever feeling had been tangled up in my chest all this time seems to have finally come undone — in a way I can no longer untangle myself.