The group moved down the corridor together.
Kohinata followed close behind Yuzuki, wanting to say something but not quite daring to. She would take a few quick steps and almost tread on Yuzuki's heels, only to slow down and lag behind again.
Her hands were just as restless. First she fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, then she scratched the back of her head, and finally she wrung her hands together in front of her.
In the end, it was Yuzuki who turned around first. “That song you were keeping time to in the breakroom earlier—is that the original piece you're performing today?”
It was like flipping a switch. Kohinata immediately started gesturing excitedly, explaining that they had written a song about Wings of Freedom. It was about taking off in the dead of night and flying through all those nights when they weren't accepted.
Their base of operations was set up in a clubroom next to the gymnasium. Several long tables had been pushed together and covered with a disposable tablecloth, laden with spoils scavenged from various festival stalls.
Kohinata guarded her portion of fried noodles in the crook of her arm. She curved her left hand into a protective fortress and held her chopsticks poised over it with her right hand, looking exactly like a cat protecting its food. She pointed her chopsticks at the takoyaki on Night Sakura's plate, insisting that she had eyed the biggest one first.
“Just because you looked at it doesn't mean it's yours,” Night Sakura retorted.
Night Sakura pushed the plate toward Amamiya. Expressionless, Amamiya picked up the takoyaki, stuffed it into her mouth, and chewed with puffed cheeks for a long moment before muttering, “They all taste the same.”
Kohinata let out a tragic wail and slammed her chopsticks onto the table.
Sitting opposite them, Kizuna laughed so hard she was practically rolling. Yuzuki used her fork to neatly cut the omurice on her plate into small, bite-sized pieces before pushing it in front of her sister.
“Speaking of surprises,” Misa Tachibana suddenly spoke up, a piece of tamagoyaki still clutched in her chopsticks. “I already know about everything you three have been secretly planning in the breakroom.”
Night Sakura, who had been in the middle of fighting Kohinata for a chicken nugget, froze with her chopsticks suspended in midair. “Know what?”
“The time capsule, and what you're planning to do on stage. Lightweaver told me.”
A brief silence fell over the room.
Kohinata's chopsticks stopped midair, and the meatball she was holding dropped back into her pile of fried noodles with a soft plop.
“How could you!” Kohinata slammed her chopsticks onto the table and whipped around to face Lightweaver. “Traitor!”
Kohinata's eyes were filled with the shock and grief of someone who had been stabbed in the back by a comrade-in-arms.
Night Sakura clutched her chest with both hands and slumped heavily against the back of her chair.
She stared up at the flickering fluorescent light on the ceiling. Her face was a dramatic mix of disbelief, deep anguish, and the hollow despair of being betrayed by a loved one.
She spoke with a deliberately suppressed tremble in her voice, looking like she was performing in a classical Greek tragedy.
“We planned this so carefully for so long. We didn't even tell the stray cat next door, all to keep the Store Owner from finding out. And yet, you went and sold us out lock, stock, and barrel.”
She took her hand off her chest and made a dramatic throwing gesture toward Lightweaver, as if casting something away forever.
Amamiya's expression barely changed, but she stared at Lightweaver with a cold, blank look.
What's going on? Why is everyone suddenly ganging up on me? Lightweaver watched the three of them, each reaction more exaggerated than the last.
Do I look like the kind of person who sells out her teammates? It's not like I got paid for snitching!
Although she did enjoy teasing them from time to time, there was no way she would ruin a surprise they had prepared so carefully. This was clearly because the Store Owner was far too sharp and had figured it out from their unusual behavior!
“I didn't tell her!” Lightweaver defended herself. “She figured it out on her own, and besides, you guys have been lying to her for years without ever pulling it off once. You exposed yourselves!”
“Wait,” Night Sakura said, dropping her hand from her chest and turning to Misa Tachibana. “Store Owner, did you really find out right from the start?”
“Ever since the three of you first huddled together suspiciously in the breakroom and locked the door.” Misa took a sip from her teacup. “When has any surprise you've planned ever succeeded?”
Misa recalled her birthday last year.
Before she had even stepped foot inside the store that day, she had spotted Night Sakura pacing back and forth by the entrance, clutching a bunch of balloons and glancing down the street every few seconds.
Kohinata had been hiding behind a vending machine with a party popper, thinking she was perfectly concealed, even though the machine was only half as wide as she was.
The string of the party popper had been trailing on the ground, and a passing stray cat had stepped on it, causing it to go off with a loud bang.
Then there was Amamiya, who had stood by the cash register holding a cake, saying expressionlessly, “It's not ready yet. Store Owner, please go back outside.”
In the end, she had stood outside for forty minutes waiting for them to relight the candles. During those forty minutes, she had heard the premature pop of party poppers going off several times.
With every bang, someone would hiss, “What are you doing?!” followed by the sound of things clattering to the floor. Finally, Kohinata's voice had drifted out, on the verge of tears: “It wasn't me!”
Every time Misa thought back to that day, she couldn't help but chuckle.
“But,” Misa said, her gaze sweeping over the three of them one by one, “thank you. Even though I find out every single time, the fact that you still put so much effort into surprising me makes me happier than any actual surprise could.”
Kohinata looked away, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand. “...Store Owner, saying things like that is cheating,” she mumbled.
Night Sakura pressed her mask more firmly against her face, trying to hide the slight redness around her eyes.
She opened her mouth to say something to lighten the mood, but all her prepared witty remarks got stuck in her throat. In the end, she could only squeeze out, “We just thought...” before trailing off.
Under the table, she gently nudged Amamiya's shin with her foot, signaling her to help bail them out.
Left with no choice, Amamiya spoke up. “What she means is, next time we'll plan one you won't find out about.”
“So, so, what's actually inside the time capsule?” Kizuna asked, leaning forward with her hands resting on the edge of the table.
“Just some things from when we were Magical Girls,” Misa explained. “We buried it under the ginkgo tree before graduation, thinking we'd dig it up a decade or so later, as a gift of time to our future selves.”
“But what's actually inside?” Kizuna pressed.
“Photos. A group picture, and a letter written to our future selves.”
As Misa spoke, her fingers found the metal box. With a gentle push, the rusted clasp popped open with a click.
Everyone fell silent as Misa lifted the lid. There was no mold, nor were there any bugs inside.
A few yellowed photo prints were neatly stacked inside. On the very top was a group photo—more than a dozen girls in school uniforms crowded together under the ginkgo tree.
Misa tapped on a girl standing on the very edge of the photo, who had her hair in a ponytail and looked rather awkward. She pointed to her and said that was herself.
“You look so young!” Kohinata blurted out, earning a gentle tap on the head from Night Sakura's chopsticks.
“Of course she does. It was taken when she was young.”
Misa turned the photo over. On the back, written in pencil, was a date and a short line of text: I hope when my future self sees this photo, she still remembers how happily we laughed today.
“This photo...” Yuzuki Asakura's voice drifted over Kizuna's shoulder. She had leaned in closer at some point.
Her finger hovered over the photo, pointing to a girl wearing glasses in the back row. “This person... is your homeroom teacher, Ms. Tanabe.”
Rate on N.U.
