Suzakura Festival.

The Suzakura Festival — an annual cultural event held in November at Suzakura High School. For the unfortunate Aotaka High School students who failed to find a girlfriend during the May Aotaka Festival, this festival was their final lifeline granted by the heavens to avoid turning Christmas into a lonely boys’ gathering. Among Aotaka High School students, it was known as the “Final Last Chance,” and even third-year students preparing for exams would put down their pens just for this day.

…Though honestly, starting a relationship at that timing would probably spell disaster for their exam success. Then again, maybe it would boost their motivation instead. Frankly speaking, my grades have dropped a little since I started dating Iori. After all, the time I used to spend studying now gets spent on dates like this.

“Actually, I don’t really know what the Suzakura Festival is like.”

“You didn’t go last year?”

“My friends invited me, but I just didn’t feel like it. I think I ended up lazing around at home.”

Thinking back, it was definitely a stubborn act. At the time, I thought that “acting with the goal of finding a girlfriend” seemed uncool. Maybe I also felt disheartened after the Aotaka Festival didn’t go well, like I’d been let down.

…If only I hadn’t been so stubborn and had gone to the Suzakura Festival back then — maybe I would’ve met Iori sooner. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t regret it.

“That’s a shame. If you had come, we might have met sooner.”

“Huh?”

Hearing Iori say exactly what I’d just been thinking surprised me, and I turned to look at her lying beside me. She was holding my pillow tightly against her chest, then suddenly buried her face in it. Wasn’t that uncomfortable?

“Well, if you had gone, you might have ended up dating someone else. So maybe things worked out for the best.”

Iori peeked out from behind the pillow just enough to say that.

“Me? Dating some Suzakura High School student? I really don’t think that’s likely.”

Even back then — and even now — I only had eyes for Iori. I couldn’t imagine ending up with anyone else.

“You never know. You’re so cool; I’m sure you’d have been incredibly popular.”

Iori said that, her flushed cheeks turning redder before she hid her face behind the pillow again. Then, just barely peeking her eyes over the top, she glanced at me.

…Before I realized it, my hand was reaching out to her head. As I ruffled her hair, Iori narrowed her eyes in comfort.

“Heh, Natsuki, you’re finally getting it, huh?”

“How are you still so confident…? Anyway, I really don’t think I’d be that popular. But I can see myself falling for you at first sight.”

“First sight? Speaking of which, when did you start liking me? I thought I was pretty upfront about my feelings early on.”

Iori’s eyes had a teasing glint as she stared at me. Of course, she wasn’t being completely serious.

“Yeah… sorry about that… Hmm, now that you mention it, when did I fall for you? I thought you were cute from the first time I saw you.”

“Really? I had no idea. You’re good at hiding your feelings.”

“I was worried it’d be annoying. I read somewhere that popular people can sometimes feel burdened by unwanted attention.”

I’d read something like, ‘Affection from someone you’re not interested in can feel suffocating.’ For someone like me, who barely stood out, being liked would be amazing — but apparently, that’s not always how it works.

Iori turned to face me, and since I was already lying on my side, we ended up facing each other with her face just inches away. Iori reached out and gently placed her hand on my cheek.

“Natsuki, you’re so sweet, worrying about things like that.”

“Of course I’d worry. You give off such a powerful presence. I kept thinking it’d be a nuisance if someone like me confessed to you.”

Because of that, I completely failed to notice Iori’s feelings.

…No, I probably noticed. But I lacked the confidence. I kept convincing myself, ‘Iori’s just teasing me,’ putting up walls so I wouldn’t get hurt. Seriously… I was such an idiot.

“Well, I kind of like that about you too. Anyway, you’ll come to this year’s Suzakura Festival, right?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss my girlfriend’s big moment.”

I had no idea what she was planning, but knowing Iori, it would be far beyond anything I could imagine.

After hearing the date from Iori, I opened my phone’s calendar and wrote “Suzakura Festival.” Seeing this, Iori snatched my phone from the side, added “After-Party Date” right after it, and handed it back.

Apparently, that’s how things were going to be.