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Chapter 112: Before the Autumn Wind Arrives
🕑 Added 2025-08-24 15:43:55 +0000 UTCIf you had to sum it up, Fireworks was a pretty simple movie.
It had a touch of fantasy—a story about a boy who uses a mysterious marble to rewind time three times in an attempt to change the fate of the girl he likes.
That was the short version, at least.
But if you looked closer, the movie had a lot of issues.
Plot holes, questionable pacing... quite a few things didn’t add up.
If it weren’t for the fact that he wanted to hear Fireworks (Uchiage Hanabi) on the big screen, Aoki would never have come to the theater for a film he barely even remembered.
It was a 90-minute runtime filled with confusing scenes and an ending that felt rushed—leaving anyone unfamiliar with the original story more puzzled than anything else.
Still, the ending theme—Fireworks, performed by Kessoku Band was excellent.
There was something strange and surreal about hearing his own music echo across the cinema’s speakers, seeing it paired with images on a giant screen.
When the film ended and they stepped out of the theater, Aoki stretched and turned to the girls with a question that had been on his mind even before the movie started:
“So, what do you all feel like eating? There seem to be quite a few restaurants nearby.”
He honestly didn’t care what they chose—he just wanted to hear what the others preferred.
After a bit of back and forth, the group settled on a yakiniku (grilled meat) place not too far from the theater.
Well... kind of not far.
According to Google Maps, it was about a 10-minute walk.
Not close enough to call it “next door,” but not far enough to take the train either.
They decided to just walk.
But just as they were about to set off, Aoki suddenly realized something—his phone was missing.
He frowned slightly and thought back.
Most likely, it had slipped out of his pocket during the movie and was still somewhere under the theater seat.
Considering the movie had just ended and staff might still be cleaning, there was a decent chance someone had found it.
He could probably still recover it if he hurried.
After the others had taken a few steps ahead, he called out:
“I think I left my phone inside the theater... I’m gonna head back to check.”
Then, pausing for a second, he added, “You all go ahead. I’ll catch up once I find it—it shouldn’t take long.”
Not waiting for a reply, he turned and headed back into the theater.
A short wait versus a 10-minute walk—it really didn’t make much difference.
As Aoki walked away, Kita blinked and exchanged a glance with the others.
“Should we... go on ahead, then?”
Whether she meant to or not, Kita couldn’t avoid seeing what people were saying online about Fireworks—or rather, about Uchiage Hanabi, the song.
Even though they’d completed and released the track, deep down, she still had her doubts.
Back when they first started, she believed that “trying your best is what matters most, whether you succeed or not.” But now?
Now, everyone in the band was giving it their all. And while the journey still mattered, she didn’t want the result to let them down—not after everything they’d done.
Fortunately, once the song debuted in the film, the response had been overwhelmingly positive.
Praises for Aoki-senpai’s composition and piano performance.
Compliments on the band’s playing. Even kind words about her singing...
Their hard work had paid off. And that meant the world to her.
As she sat through the movie, waiting for that moment at the end—waiting for their song to play—she felt all of it wash over her.
When the first notes of Uchiage Hanabi rang out in the credits, and their music filled the theater, something inside her stirred.
She was truly, deeply grateful.
Grateful to have met the band.
Grateful to make music with them.
And—she believed now more than ever that Uchiage Hanabi deserved to be heard. That it was proof of how far Kessoku Band had come.
Everything was finally falling into place.
From Aoki-senpai patiently teaching her to sing and play guitar...
To staying at her bedside late into the night when she had a fever...
To facing off against her mom when she’d broken down crying...
All of it—every moment—had led here.
And now, Kita Ikuyo knew.
There was something she had to say to Aoki.
Something she’d meant to say properly that day in the library, on September 8th.
“Thank you”—but this time, with the reason behind it.
After Nijika spoke up, Kita hesitated slightly—then gave a firm reply.
“Um... Nijika-senpai, Ryo-senpai, Bocchi-chan... you guys go ahead. I’ll wait here for Aoki-senpai, just in case something comes up.”
Nijika paused, then nodded with a soft “Okay.”
Bocchi and Ryo had no objections either—they nodded and followed along.
———————————————————————
Back in the theater, Aoki didn’t find his phone under the seat.
Slightly frustrated, he decided to check with the front desk.
Just as he’d suspected, one of the staff had found the phone during cleanup and turned it in.
After confirming his identity, they returned it to him—no harm done, just a bit of time lost.
Phone in hand, he stepped outside again...
And immediately spotted Kita waiting near the entrance.
She hadn’t noticed him yet—probably lost in thought.
Just like they’d said, the others had likely gone ahead.
But for whatever reason, Kita had stayed behind.
He walked over.
“Didn’t we agree you’d all go on ahead?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Startled from her daze, Kita turned and met his gaze.
“Ah... Aoki-senpai.”
She paused, then smiled a little and replied, “Well, it’s better to walk together than alone, right? I don’t mind waiting a bit.”
The yakiniku place wasn’t far—ten minutes on foot at most. It made sense.
Aoki didn’t press the issue.
By now, the sky had gone completely dark, but the street was lit up with neon lights in every color, casting a warm glow over everything.
They remembered the route, so they started walking side by side.
With time to spare, Aoki slowed his pace to a stroll, and Kita matched his steps.
After their initial exchange, neither of them said anything right away.
Kita wanted to speak but didn’t know how to start.
Aoki, meanwhile, must’ve felt the silence dragging on, because a few steps later, he broke it with a casual question:
“So... what did you think of the movie?”
Kita blinked, caught off guard.
Then, processing the question, she answered honestly:
“I... didn’t really get it. The story was kinda weird—not what I expected at all.”
“Maybe the production was rushed, or maybe the budget just wasn’t there? The film’s quality really didn’t match the promotional hype.”
Aoki chuckled lightly after his comment, then added, “But the ending theme was great.”
“Well, that’s because it was your composition, Senpai.”
Aoki shook his head, gently pushing back.
“No... it’s because Kessoku Band played it so well. Everyone shined.”
But before the topic could continue, he casually shifted the conversation.
Turning his gaze toward a nearby ice cream shop, he asked, “Anyway... want some shaved ice or ice cream? It’s already autumn—you won’t get many more chances to enjoy it in this weather.”
Kita hesitated briefly, then followed his gaze and nodded.
The air had indeed turned cooler.
Just ten days ago, Aoki could still wear short sleeves at this hour.
Now, there was a noticeable chill in the breeze.
Autumn wind rustled through the yellowing leaves lining the asphalt street, brushing them into a quiet dance.
They stopped at the shop and got their frozen treats—Aoki picked a blue Hawaiian shaved ice, while Kita chose strawberry ice cream.
Leaving the shop, they continued toward the yakiniku restaurant.
After a brief silence, Aoki spoke again.
“By the way... I’ve been meaning to say this since our practice sessions, but never really found the right moment—Kita, you’ve got a real gift for singing. Honestly, you’re way better than me.”
“It’s only because you were so patient teaching me, Senpai,” Kita replied, shaking her head.
“Nah, all I did was teach you a few vocal techniques.”
Kita turned to look at him, pausing slightly before gently disagreeing.
“But if you hadn’t taught me those things, I never would’ve come this far.”
“Those tips... you could probably find most of them online,” Aoki replied, scooping another spoonful of his shaved ice.
The flavor had a subtle whiskey base, adding a faint warmth beneath the fruity sweetness—an odd but surprisingly pleasant mix.
He was about to continue when Kita suddenly interrupted.
She stopped walking.
Turning to him, she opened her mouth—not to argue further, but to say something entirely different.
“Thank you, Senpai.”
Her voice was calm and serious, just like earlier when she spoke with conviction.
Aoki blinked, a little confused.
He paused too, turning to face her.
She stood there, hair fluttering slightly in the wind, eyes glowing faintly under the neon lights—soft, bright, and full of something more than just gratitude.
“Thank you?” Aoki repeated.
“Yeah. Thank you,” Kita said, taking a quiet breath. “For always taking the time to teach me guitar... and how to sing. Thank you.”
Aoki was momentarily stunned, then chuckled awkwardly.
“There’s no need to thank me. I was just doing what needed to be done so Kessoku Band could pull off ‘Fireworks’ perfectly.”
Kita shook her head again. “And for spending your summer mornings helping me with my schoolwork. Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a big deal either. You’re being way too serious about this, Kita.”
“And when I had a fever... you carried me to the hospital and stayed with me until nearly eleven at night.” She kept going, ignoring his attempt to brush it off.
Aoki scratched the back of his head, looking visibly uncomfortable now.
“Those were just... things I could do. I didn’t mind. You don’t need to thank me this seriously. And why now, all of a sudden...?”
But before he could finish, she interrupted him again.
“You believed in me. Made me the lead vocalist. When I doubted myself, you told me I could do it. And... you went behind my back to talk to my mom—because you were worried about how I was doing, even when I was being unreasonable and complaining.”
She looked him in the eyes.
“Thank you.”
Aoki’s hand paused mid-scoop, spoon still resting in the shaved ice.
He froze slightly, surprise flickering across his face.
“Wait... your mom told you about that?”
“No. I overheard it. On the stairs. That day.”
“You heard... everything?”
“Your whole conversation with her. The way you shared your thoughts, stood up to her, explained about the calluses on my fingers and my hoarse voice... and how you offered to tutor me.”
Aoki fell silent for a moment.
He’d assumed her mother had kept it secret.
He never expected Kita to find out—let alone confront him like this.
What was he supposed to say now?
The wind rolled in again, brushing across the pavement and tugging gently at his clothes before dissolving into the night.
Aoki looked at her.
In her eyes, alongside the flickering neon lights, was a soft reflection of him—hazy, but clear enough to matter.
Her pale-pink hair fluttered lightly in the breeze.
From the start, Aoki had never taken things that seriously.
But now, after a short breath, he chose to answer sincerely.
“Because ‘Fireworks’... was a song only you could bring to life.”
“Encouraging you, comforting you—that was just the right thing to do.”
“As for hiding it from you... convincing your mom...” He trailed off, then gave a dry laugh. “I’ve got personality issues. When I get impulsive, I sometimes do things that might actually make a situation worse.”
“I’m not always sure I’m doing the right thing. Not before I act, anyway.”
“But even if we set all that aside... even if things happened to work out okay—”
“I could’ve ignored it all. I could’ve done nothing. But I couldn’t just turn away after hearing you say, ‘I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but I still feel kind of hurt.’ I couldn’t pretend I didn’t see the tears in your eyes, Kita.”
“And... when friends keep thanking each other like this, doesn’t it make them feel distant instead?”
Kita opened her mouth, trying to reply, but... the words didn’t come.
After all, before practice started, how could anyone have known whether she could really perform that song perfectly?
There’s no such thing as “the right thing to do.”
Not really.
He couldn’t ignore her pain. Couldn’t pretend not to see the look in her eyes.
Would a friend really go that far?
How was she supposed to respond to Aoki now? With what emotion? What expression?
And then—Aoki spoke again.
He scooped up another spoonful of shaved ice and popped it into his mouth.
His tone shifted back into something casual and light.
“Well, none of that matters anymore, does it? It’s all in the past now. What we should be doing is celebrating—Kessoku Band is only going up from here.”
“So don’t dwell on all this heavy stuff. We’ve got more gigs coming up, lots of work ahead. Right now... come on, smile for me.”
Kita paused.
Then, she gently wiped the corners of her eyes.
Taking a couple steps forward, she turned around and looked back at him—flashing a bright, beaming smile full of energy and life.
“Senpai,” she called out.
The wind, just cool enough to remind them it was autumn, swept along the street, rustling the golden leaves again.
Neon lights lit up her face, and her eyes sparkled with the same light.
Then she spoke— “Kei-senpai.”
