The festival buzzed with laughter, music, and the scent of grilled mochi and candy apples. Students filled the courtyard, running between booths, their yukatas fluttering like watercolor paintings in motion.

  Renji arrived late, as usual. His sleeves were crooked, and his sandals didn’t match. Still, he strutted in like royalty, eyes scanning until they found her.

  Ayame.

  She stood by the calligraphy booth, painting a single character with steady, elegant strokes. Her yukata was a soft white with delicate blue cranes, and her hair was pulled into a bun with a crimson pin sticking out like a sword. She looked graceful. Poised. Deadly.

  Renji grinned.

  He marched over, clapped his hands loudly behind her. “YO! Master artist, how’s the ink war going?”

  She didn’t flinch. “Your voice is a war crime.”

  “Aw, come on. Say you missed me.”

  “I prayed for silence.”

  “Cute. Wanna grab a takoyaki with me?”

  Ayame side-eyed him. “I thought you didn’t eat octopus.”

  Renji threw an arm around an invisible crowd. “Today, I eat my feelings.”

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  She blinked at him, but a hint of a smile tugged at her lips. “You’re weird.”

  “Admit it. You love that about me.”

  She turned back to her brush. “I tolerate it.”

  They spent the next hour bouncing between stalls—throwing darts, guessing jellybean flavors, stealing prizes from each other’s bags. Ayame even laughed once when Renji mistook a kappa mask for a frog and screamed like a five-year-old.

  It was good. Easy. Too easy.

  And then it wasn’t.

  The shift was so small at first—a shadow over her expression, a slight tightening of her jaw. Renji followed her gaze and saw him.

  Senior Kazuki.

  Handsome. Calm. Perfect posture. A literal archery god.

  He approached Ayame with confident steps, holding something behind his back.

  Renji squinted.

  Oh no.

  Kazuki bowed slightly. “Fujimaru-san. I… made this for you.” He pulled out a tiny wooden charm shaped like a fox. “I carved it during club breaks. Thought you’d like it.”

  Ayame stared at it. “...I… Thank you.”

  Renji stared at the scene like someone watching a car crash in slow motion.

  Kazuki kept going. “Are you free later tonight? We could visit the lantern release together.”

  Renji’s ears buzzed. Nope. Nope. NOPE.

  He turned and walked away without a word.

  Ayame’s voice behind him, soft: “Renji—?”

  But he didn’t stop.

  He didn’t see how she politely declined Kazuki. Or how her eyes kept drifting toward the crowd, looking for someone in mismatched sandals and an obnoxious grin.

  He didn’t see her lose interest in the festival after that.

  Instead, Renji sat behind the gym alone, tearing up a rice ball with his fingers.

  “Stupid festival,” he muttered. “Stupid charm. Stupid… feelings.”

  He stayed there until the moon was high, trying not to care, trying not to remember the look on her face when that charm was offered.

  Trying not to hope she wasn’t smiling for real.