Tweedle.

My phone chirps from the table. I check the message, drain what’s left of my coffee in one gulp, and stand.

Come to think of it, the three of us came to this café a lot when we were in high school. The memory strikes me after I’ve waved good-bye to Tsukasa and Takagi and started jogging toward the station. Life was so carefree back then. I didn’t have to think about the future or finding a job, and somehow, every day was ludicrously fun. Especially that one summer—I think it was during my second year of high school. It seems like that summer was especially thrilling. What happened that year? I think back and conclude there wasn’t anything in particular. I guess I must’ve just been at an age when absolutely anything was enough to trigger a giggling fit.

…Wait, no, that’s something they say about girls… Absentmindedly, I hop down the stairs to the subway.

“Ooh. Job hunting, hmm?”

Okudera-senpai looks up from her phone, sees me in my suit, and smiles. It’s evening, and the area in front of Yotsuya Station is filled with the faintly languid hum of people released from their days at work or school.

“Ha-ha. Well, it’s not going so great.”

“Hmm…” Okudera-senpai murmurs, bringing her face closer to mine. She inspects me from head to toe with a frown. Then, gravely, she asks, “You don’t think it’s because suits don’t look good on you?”

“I-is it really that bad?!” Involuntarily, I look down at myself.

“Oh, come on, I’m joking!”

Okudera-senpai beams, her expression changing easily.

“Let’s walk a little,” Okudera-senpai says, and I follow her. We set off, going against the current of the university students on Shinjuku Street. We cut across Kioicho, then cross the Benkei Bridge. For the first time, I realize that the trees lining the roads are changing color. About half the people we pass have on lightweight coats. Okudera-senpai is wearing a loose ash-gray jacket, too.

“What’s going on today? Your text came out of the blue.”

Feeling as if I’m the only one who hasn’t kept up with the season, I turn to Okudera-senpai beside me.

“What?” Her glossy lips pout. “I can’t get in touch with you without a reason?”

“No, no, no!” I wave my hands hastily.

“You’re happy to see me, aren’t you? It’s been a long time.”

“Y-yes. I am.”

She smiles in satisfaction at my answer, then continues. “I was in the area for work and thought I’d like to see your face, Taki.” She was hired by a major clothing chain and works at a branch store in Chiba now. “Life in the suburbs is fun, too, but Tokyo really is lively and one of a kind,” she tells me, gazing at her surroundings like she’s a little awestruck. “Look,” she says suddenly, and I raise my head.

We’re crossing a pedestrian bridge, so we’re eye level with the giant outdoor display screen above an electronics store. It’s showing aerial footage of gourd-shaped Itomori Lake and the words The Comet Disaster—Eight Years Later in big letters.