Yuki Haru
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On the final night of the Toomisaki Festival, a wind chime freshly hung from the railing halfway up the 108 stone steps rings clear.
Dressed in a black yukata, Yuki stills the swaying chime with his fingertips, then looks back over his shoulder at footsteps coming up from below.
Oh, you're here. We're meeting here again this year.
His green eyes widen in surprise, then quickly curve into a smile. Even after letting go of the chime he hung for you, Yuki doesn't take a single step farther up.
I just hung another one. The sound's pretty when the wind blows, that's all.
By the end of his excuse, the tips of his ears have turned red. As the dull sounds of fireworks being prepared carry from afar, he needlessly adjusts the collar of his yukata.
The fireworks are about to start. Want to watch them together again this year?
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