Chapter 19: After-Party Antics

The last fireworks fizzled out, leaving the night sky a smoky haze speckled with fading embers. Riku lingered at the courtyard's edge, the cool rim of his ramune cup pressed against his palm, his mind replaying the festival chaos. Aiko's flushed face during their clumsy dance lingered in his thoughts—she'd bolted after, leaving him with a tangle of nerves and a need to find her. The crowd buzzed around him, students snapping photos and laughing as the bonfire crackled, but all he could think about was tracking her down.

He adjusted his yukata's collar and started weaving through the throng, eyes darting for a glimpse of her blue fabric amid the sea of colors. The festival was winding down, but booths still blared with last-minute hawkers, and the scent of grilled squid hung thick in the air. No Aiko. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, when a chipper voice sliced through his focus.

"Riku! Finally!" Haruka popped up like a jack-in-the-box, her earlier maid outfit traded for a pink yukata dotted with tiny bunnies, a matching ribbon bouncing in her hair. Before he could react, she latched onto his arm with a grin. "I've been looking for you! Let's hit the games!"

"Games?" Riku blinked, stumbling as she yanked him toward the stalls. "Wait, I was trying to find—"

"No excuses!" she chirped, cutting him off. "The goldfish scooping's about to close, and I *need* one. You're my lucky charm, right? Let's go!"

"I'm not lucky," he muttered, but resistance was futile—Haruka was a force of nature. She dragged him to a booth where a shallow pool shimmered with darting orange fish, their scales glinting under the lantern light. The vendor, a gruff man with a toothpick in his mouth, handed them each a delicate paper scoop.

Haruka crouched beside the pool, her yukata fanning out around her like a petal. "Watch this," she said, dipping her scoop with dramatic flair. The paper tore instantly, the fish zipping away, and she pouted, thrusting the handle at Riku. "Okay, your turn!"

Riku sighed, kneeling beside her. The water was chilly against his fingertips as he angled the scoop, but his luck was no better—the paper ripped, and the fish escaped. Haruka giggled, her shoulder nudging his. "We're both terrible at this," she said, then lit up. "Wait, I've got it! Teamwork!"

Before he could protest, she grabbed his hand, wrapping their fingers together around a fresh scoop. "We'll catch one together!" she declared, leaning over the pool. Her body pressed against his side, her yukata slipping slightly at the collar to reveal a sliver of collarbone and a hint of curve beneath. Riku's eyes flicked down for a split second before he snapped them back to the water, his face igniting. His hand trembled, tearing the scoop again, and the fish darted free.

"Riku!" Haruka whined, oblivious to his internal meltdown. "You're supposed to help!"

"S-sorry!" he stammered, scooting back to put space between them. "Maybe we should try something else?"

She puffed out her cheeks but relented, springing to her feet. "Fine. Shooting gallery next! I'm *awesome* at that."

Riku doubted it, but followed her to the next stall, where cork guns sat lined up, aimed at a shelf of plush toys. Haruka snatched a gun, squinted one eye, and fired—the cork sailed wide, pinging off the booth's sign. She huffed, handing him the gun. "Show me up, then."

He took it, lining up his shot with care. The cork grazed a teddy bear's ear, tipping it sideways but not off the shelf. Haruka clapped anyway. "So close! Go again!"

He reloaded, steadying his aim, but Haruka leaned over his shoulder, her breath warm against his ear. "Aim higher," she whispered, her chest brushing his back. His shot veered wildly, bouncing off the ceiling, and the vendor ducked with a shout.

"Oi, watch it!" the man barked, and Haruka burst into laughter, clutching Riku's arm.

"You're a disaster!" she teased, her eyes dancing. "Let's do the ring toss instead!"

Riku groaned inwardly but let her pull him along. They flung rings at bottles, missing every toss, her laughter growing louder with each failure. She was relentless, a whirlwind of energy, and he was too polite—or too dazed—to break free. Finally, she tugged him to a quieter spot near the school garden, where a lone bench sat beneath a cherry tree, its branches swaying in the breeze.

"Whew, that was a blast!" Haruka flopped onto the bench, her yukata slipping off one shoulder. She tugged it back casually, grinning up at him. "Thanks for humoring me, Riku. You're the best."

"No problem," he said, sitting beside her, leaving a careful gap. The night air was cooler here, the festival's clamor muffled, and he exhaled, tension easing from his shoulders.

Haruka slid closer, erasing the gap. "You know," she said, her voice dropping, "I really like hanging out with you. You're so nice. And kinda cute when you're all flustered."

Riku's heart stuttered. "Uh, thanks?" he mumbled, staring at his shoes. Was she flirting? No, she was just being her usual bubbly self. Probably.

She tilted her head, her face drifting nearer. "Riku, do you… like anyone? Like, *really* like them?"

The question hit him like a brick. "I—I don't know," he managed, throat dry. "Why?"

"Just wondering," she said, but her gaze lingered, soft and searching. Before he could muster a reply, a shadow loomed over them.

"Having a good time?" Aiko's voice cut through the moment, sharp and cool. She stood by the tree, arms crossed, her blue yukata pristine despite the late hour. Her expression was a mask, but her eyes glinted with something unreadable.

Haruka blinked, unfazed. "Oh, hi, Aiko! We were just—"

"Playing games, I noticed," Aiko said, her gaze sliding to Riku. "You're quite the crowd-pleaser, Riku-kun."

"It's not what it looks like," he said, jumping up. "Haruka just—"

"Relax," Aiko interrupted, her tone icing over. "I don't care. Enjoy yourself." She turned sharply, her steps stiff as she melted back into the crowd.

"Aiko, wait!" Riku called, but she didn't slow. He sank back onto the bench, guilt gnawing at him. Why did she sound so upset? And why did it twist his stomach like this?

Haruka patted his arm. "She'll get over it. Let's grab some dango!"

He forced a nod, but the festival's sparkle had dulled. Aiko's reaction—jealousy, maybe?—clung to him, a puzzle he couldn't solve. The night stretched on, but all he wanted was to find her and set things right.