We started early that morning, the sound of sizzling batter and oil popping filling the empty festival grounds. The air already smelled like summer—thick, hot, and full of possibilities.
"Okay," Haruki said, tying on his apron, "we've got flour, octopus, green onions, sauce… and exactly zero backup plans if we burn everything."
"Great," I muttered, setting up the trays. "You make it sound so reassuring."
He grinned. "Relax, yuuto. We've got this. Just remember—if we go down, we go down feeding people."
"Comforting."
By noon, the festival street was alive. Laughter, the crackle of grills, and the rhythmic taiko drums filled the air. Haruki handled customers like a pro—easygoing, confident, the kind of guy people naturally liked. Watching him, I couldn't help but think: he always knows what to do.
When my shift came, Haruki handed me the spatula like he was passing down a sacred weapon.
"Alright, your turn, chef. And hey—don't give anyone free orders, got it, specially not cute girls"
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah."
He gave me a thumbs up before walking off toward the fireworks prep area. "I'll check back later. Don't burn the stand down."
---
The first few minutes went fine. Then someone complained that the inside of their takoyaki was too soft. Another said the sauce was too thick.
I apologized. A lot.
"I'm so sorry!"
"I'll fix it right away!"
"Please don't tell Haruki!"
By the third round, one of the customers laughed and said, "You're way too polite, kid."
At least they didn't ask for a refund.
Still, after a while, I got into rhythm. Stir, pour, flip, glaze. Each batch came out a little better than the last. When I finally looked up, I realized I'd been smiling the whole time.
Maybe Haruki was right—people notice effort more than results.
---
When he came back later, he smirked. "See? Didn't burn anything."
"Barely," I said. "You owe me a drink."
He stretched. "Fine, fine. Go take a break. See the festival. Maybe run into Tachibana and Tanaka-san if you're lucky."
I blinked. "Why would I—"
He waved me off. "Don't question fate, man. Go enjoy yourself."
---
Lanterns glowed along the street, casting golden light over the crowd. Kids ran with candy apples, couples shared shaved ice, and fireworks staff tested their fuses by the river.
And then I saw them.
Tachibana stood near a food stall, wearing a pale blue yukata with silver accents that shimmered under the lantern light. Her hair was tied up neatly, a few strands falling around her face. She looked calm—distant, almost regal.
Next to her was Tanaka, radiant in pink, laughing as she pointed at something on a stick.
My heart did this awkward jump.
Before I could even think about running, Miyu spotted me.
"Takahashi-kun!" she called, waving excitedly.
I froze. "…Hey, Tanaka-san. Tachibana-san."
"Out here wandering alone?" Miyu grinned.
"I was, uh, on break," I said. "From the takoyaki stand."
Rina tilted her head slightly. "You're working there?"
"Yeah. Helping Haruki. You could stop by if you want."
Her gaze lingered on me for a second longer than I expected. "Maybe."
Her eyes briefly traced my face. "You got a haircut."
"Ah—yeah. Two weeks ago."
"It suits you," she said evenly, like she was commenting on the weather. But her voice had a tiny waver—barely there, but real.
Miyu leaned forward with a grin. "It really does! You look way more like someone who actually leaves their house now."
"Thanks… I think?"
She giggled. "Don't worry, it's a compliment!"
Then, before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "That yukata… it really suits you too, Tachibana-san and you too Tanaka-san."
Rina blinked—just once. A faint pink rose on her cheeks before she quickly composed herself, turning her head slightly away. "You think so? Well… thank you."
Then, almost under her breath, she added, "People don't usually say it like that."
I tilted my head. "Like what?"
"Like you meant it."
For a second, I didn't know what to say.
In my mind, her words lingered—people don't usually say it like that.
Most people probably complimented her like she was something distant, untouchable—a goddess they admired from afar.
But I hadn't meant it like that.
I just… said what I felt when I saw her.
Then Miyu jump in loud and cheerfully as always "So you think I'm cute takahashi-kun."
"W–wait, that's not what I said!" I waved my hands defensively, heat creeping up my neck. "I just meant—it suits you too. That's all!"
Miyu grinned, clearly enjoying every second of it. "Hehe, so you do think I'm cute."
I sighed. "There's no winning with you, is there?"
---
Miyu clasped her hands behind her back, smiling mischievously. "By the way, Takahashi-kun—you're still calling me Tanaka-san?"
"Uh… should I not?"
She pouted. "It sounds so stiff! I don't wanna be like Rina—she's always so serious."
"Miyu," Rina said sharply.
Miyu laughed. "See? Exactly that. Call me Miyu-chan, okay?"
"Eh? I—uh—tanaka-chan, seems better for me " I said awkwardly.
She grinned, satisfied. "ok at least it's way cuter?"
Rina sighed. "You're unbelievable."
Miyu leaned close to whisper, "Bet you wish he called you Rina-chan."
That made Rina's eyes flicker, but her tone stayed cool. "He doesn't need to."
I scratched my cheek, embarrassed. "I'll just… stick with Tachibana-san."
"Boooring," Miyu said, laughing again.
---
Later, when they actually came to our stand, Haruki nearly dropped the ladle.
He stared at them, then at me, then pulled me aside so fast I almost tripped.
"What the hell, man?" he hissed. "You brought them here? Tachibana and Tanaka?!"
"I didn't bring them—they just came!"
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're impossible." Then he sighed, giving up. "Fine. You're officially allowed to give free orders. That's an order."
When I returned, Miyu was already chatting with the customers in line. Rina stood quietly beside her, eyes scanning the sizzling grill.
"So, you two want to order?" I asked.
Rina crossed her arms lightly. "Obviously. That's why we're here."
Miyu giggled. "Two orders of your best takoyaki, please, chef!"
As I worked, I could feel Rina watching. It wasn't judgmental—more like quiet curiosity. When I handed her the box, I managed a small smile.
"I hope it's better than my first few batches."
Her lips twitched slightly. "You've improved."
That one, simple sentence hit harder than any compliment.
When they left, I just stood there, replaying the moment in my head. She'd accepted my words. She wasn't avoiding me anymore. But… there was still something between us—a quiet distance I couldn't name.
Haruki noticed it too. He nudged me. "You keep staring into space like that, people will think you're philosophizing over sauce."
I groaned. "It's not that."
"Yeah, yeah," he said, waving me off. "Go. I'll cover your shift. Fireworks are starting soon, right? Go have your moment."
---
The crowd gathered by the riverbank as the first firework bloomed in the sky—red, then gold, scattering over the water. The noise faded behind me as I walked along the edge of the crowd… until I found her.
Rina stood alone, the glow of fireworks reflecting in her eyes.
For a second, I just watched her. Then I stepped closer. "Tachibana-san."
She turned, surprised but composed. "Takahashi-kun."
"I, uh…" I looked up at the sky, trying to steady my voice. "You remember what you said back then? About me being a mistake?"
Her expression didn't change, but her eyes softened—just a little.
I took a breath. "Do you still see me that way? Or…" I paused, the fireworks bursting behind me, "…do you see a guy who's trying?"
The night went silent except for the sound of the river and the echo of the fireworks above.
Rina didn't answer. Not yet.
And maybe… that was okay.