Natsuiro Matsuri IF - If I Hadn't Chased the Fireworks That Day
Summer of his second year in high school. Yuto gets a sudden call from Matsuri Natsuiro, a classmate he secretly admires. "I want you to chase fireworks with me!" Her words make no sense, but they sparkle. Before he knows it, Yuto is swept up in Matsuri's 'All-Japan Summer Festival Crossing Tour.' Her goal is to find Aoi, her best friend who she was separated from as a child. There's only one clue: Aoi appears for just a moment at a different summer festival every year. Relying on that alone, Yu
Natsuiro Matsuri IF - If I Hadn't Chased the Fireworks That Day - Don't make me say goodbye.
The morning sun beat down mercilessly on the bus terminal in Gujo Hachiman.
The cicadas' cries pierced the ears, and heat haze shimmered above the asphalt.
"[serious]Kurosaki Tatsuya... Chief Administrator of Verde Research."
I muttered quietly, gripping the ticket in my hand.
Sweat seeped into my palm, making the paper slightly damp.
That man's cold eyes were still burned into my mind, impossible to shake.
When we first passed each other at Lake Suwa, I just thought he was someone who gave off a bad vibe. But no. He's serious. The organization is serious about taking Aoi back. And they've already found us—the ones getting in their way.
"[excited]Yuuto! The bus is here, hurry up and get on!"
Matsuri waved energetically. Her ponytail swayed, and strands of black hair clung to her sweat-dampened neck.
She was the same as always.
As if the tears she'd shown last night after the Gujo Odori had never happened, her face was already completely bright again.
(*...Is she really okay?*)
I sighed inwardly.
She always does this. The harder things get, the more she forces herself to smile. She hates showing weakness, and she absolutely refuses to cry in front of others.
But it's painfully obvious she's pushing herself, and every time, it makes a dull ache spread through the center of my chest.
"[calm]I'm coming."
I readjusted my backpack and boarded the bus.
――――
After transferring between conventional train lines, we arrived in Kyoto just past two in the afternoon.
The moment we stepped onto the station platform, a muggy heat wrapped around our entire bodies. It was the air of the ancient capital—different from Tokyo, different from Suwa, different from Gujo Hachiman.
"So damn hot..."
"[laughing]Kyoto's in a basin, so summers are insanely hot. You didn't know that, did you?"
"I didn't..."
I flapped the collar of my T-shirt as we passed through the ticket gates.
Kyoto Station was packed with tourists. Couples in yukata, groups of foreign travelers, clusters of middle schoolers apparently on a school trip. Everyone looked like they were having fun—no one wore the desperate expressions we did.
"It's the Gion Matsuri period, so there are a lot of people."
Matsuri said, looking at the map on her phone.
"[gentle]Let's head to our lodging first. There's a guesthouse around Gojo, so let's drop off our bags there."
"Got it."
We took a bus down Gojo Street. Outside the window, the Kyoto cityscape flowed by—a mix of old machiya townhouses and modern buildings.
――――
The guesthouse "Tsukinowa" was tucked away at the end of a narrow alley, one street off Gojo.
It was an old two-story wooden building that looked at least sixty years old. The walls were cracked here and there, and the letters on the sign were faded. But seasonal flowers were arranged at the entrance, and that mismatched quality felt strangely calming.
"Hello~!"
Matsuri slid the door open with a clatter.
Stepping inside, a curious blend of tatami scent and coffee aroma tickled my nose.
"[casual]Welcome. Natsuiro-san with the reservation?"
A young man poked his head out from behind the counter.
Probably around twenty-five.
His shoulder-length brown hair was casually tied back, and he wore black-rimmed glasses. He was slender, dressed in a worn-out band T-shirt. On the desk were a laptop and a pile of stacked books. He had the vibe of a grad student holed up in a university lab.
"Yes, I'm Natsuiro Matsuri! This is Yuuto-kun, he's traveling with me."
"[gentle]Hey."
I gave a slight nod.
"I'm the manager, Tsujimoto Rei. Nice to meet you. The dormitory's on the second floor. It's 2,800 yen per night. Payment in advance, please."
Matsuri took money out of her wallet. Rei accepted it and scribbled in an old ledger.
"[surprised]Huh, two high schoolers traveling together. Making summer break memories?"
"[serious]...No, we're looking for someone."
I answered honestly.
Rei's hand stopped for just a moment.
His eyes behind the glasses stared intently at us. It was a complicated look—like he was sizing us up, yet also like he was remembering something.
"[calm]Looking for someone, huh. Who?"
"[excited]A girl named Aoi! She's about our age, with long black hair and blue eyes—"
"[cold]...Verde Research, huh."
Rei's voice suddenly dropped.
The air grew tense.
"[surprised]You know about them? That organization?"
"[sarcastic]Know about them? More like..."
Rei took off his glasses and wiped them on the hem of his T-shirt.
"[cold]I was under their 'care' once too, a long time ago."
Matsuri gasped.
"On the surface, Verde Research is an NPO for child welfare. But in reality, they're brokers who round up talented children and funnel them to corporations and politicians."
"[angry]That's human trafficking, isn't it?!"
"It is. But you can't prove it. On paper, everything's processed as 'foster parent placement' or 'educational support.' Neither the police nor the local government will lift a finger."
Rei let out a tired sigh.
"[gentle]How did you get out?"
"...When I entered university, I told them myself that I 'no longer needed support.' I refused over and over, got threatened over and over, and in the end, I practically ran away."
Rei's fingers unconsciously traced the edge of the counter.
"[gentle]But I was one of the luckier ones. I was old enough to go to university. The kids they rounded up in elementary or middle school... they have nowhere to run."
"Aoi is... the same."
Matsuri's voice trembled.
"[serious]This girl, Aoi, was taken in by Verde Research nine years ago. She's been running from them ever since. Every year, she only shows herself at the summer festival, but she disappears right away."
"[sad]She told me not to come anymore... to never look for her again..."
Tears began to well up in Matsuri's eyes.
I hurriedly tried to change the subject.
"[calm]Um, do you know anything? Any information about Verde Research operating in Kyoto?"
Rei folded his arms and looked up at the ceiling.
"[serious]...I've heard rumors that they're active around Kyoto every summer. They say a few administrators stake out the Karasuma area during the Gion Matsuri."
"Administrators—you mean the men in black suits?"
"[surprised]Ah, you know about them."
"We met them yesterday in Gujo Hachiman. He gave his name as Kurosaki Tatsuya."
Rei's expression changed.
"[scared]Kurosaki... that bastard's already onto you two?"
"Yes."
"[cold]This is bad. Kurosaki is especially troublesome, even within Verde Research. He's a pro at tracking and tailing, and he's skilled at psychological pressure. He doesn't use violence, which means there's no shady evidence left behind."
Silence fell.
――――
After a while, Rei slowly spoke up.
"[gentle]...I think you'll be safe while you're staying here, at least. Those guys won't stick their hands into a rundown place like this."
"Thank you."
"[excited]We're so grateful! That was super helpful info!"
Matsuri bowed her head with a bob. The tears from earlier were already gone from her face, replaced by her usual bright expression.
(*...She's pushing herself.*)
I thought it, but I didn't say it out loud.
"[excited]Alright then, let's head straight to the Gion Matsuri grounds! Aoi might be there!"
Matsuri dropped her backpack on the floor and headed for the door with enough momentum to break into a run.
"[calm]Wait a second, Matsuri."
I grabbed her arm.
Matsuri turned back with a surprised look.
"[serious]Let's hear him out properly. We should listen to Rei-san's story in more detail."
"[surprised]...It's rare for you to say something like that, Yuuto."
"[embarrassed]Shut up."
I scratched the back of my head to hide my embarrassment.
The regret from Gujo Hachiman—that I could do nothing but watch her cry—still lingered deep in my chest.
I can't just keep drifting along anymore.
――――
After hearing more details from Rei, we left the guesthouse.
Outside, evening was already approaching. The sky was beginning to tinge with madder red.
"[gentle]Thanks. For earlier."
Matsuri said in a small voice.
"For what?"
"[gentle]I was about to go rushing off again. You stopped me, so I was able to listen properly."
"It's not a big deal."
"[laughing]That part of you hasn't changed."
Matsuri smiled, just a little.
Not forcing herself to be cheerful—just a tiny, natural smile.
Seeing that smile warmed the area around my chest.
――――
The Gion Matsuri grounds were packed with people.
From Karasuma Street to Shijo Street—people, people, people.
Girls in yukata, boys in jinbei, steam and smoke rising from the food stalls, the smell of yakisoba and takoyaki, the sound of water at the goldfish scooping game, the clatter of prizes at the ring toss.
"[excited]Whoa... so many people!"
Matsuri's eyes sparkled.
"Don't get separated."
"[laughing]Don't treat me like a kid!"
We wandered among the stalls, searching for Aoi.
But honestly, it didn't feel like we'd find her at all. Finding a single girl in this crowd was way too reckless.
(*Still, we've got no choice but to try.*)
I secretly sighed as I watched Matsuri's back.
That's when it happened.
"—Matsuri."
A voice.
From beyond the waves of people.
Clear, but very small.
I hurriedly looked up.
Matsuri did the same. Her body went rigid, as if struck by lightning.
"[scared]...Aoi?"
Beyond the crowd, past the flickering lights of the stalls—
She was standing there.
Long black hair reaching to her waist. A little damaged, perhaps from lack of care. Her deep blue eyes were quiet like the bottom of a lake, unreadable as if she'd given up on everything.
A white blouse, faded jeans.
She looked like any ordinary girl, but the air around her alone was different.
"Aoi...!"
Matsuri tried to run toward her.
But.
Aoi held out one hand, stopping her in place.
"...Don't come."
A cold voice.
A frozen voice, devoid of any trace of emotion.
Matsuri's feet stopped moving, as if glued to the ground.
"[cold]Don't come anymore. Don't ever look for me again."
Aoi's face was expressionless.
But for just a moment—just the 0.5 seconds when her eyes caught Matsuri—her expression crumbled.
A face that looked like she was about to cry, yet desperately holding something back.
But immediately, it returned to its former blankness.
"Why... why..."
Matsuri's voice was hoarse.
Words failed her.
"[cold]...Goodbye."
Aoi turned on her heel and vanished into the depths of the crowd.
Her black hair swayed for an instant, then was swallowed by the stall lights.
Matsuri stood rooted to the spot.
As if she'd forgotten to breathe, she just stared in the direction Aoi had disappeared.
I—only I—noticed.
Behind Aoi.
About ten meters away, blending into the sea of people, two men in black suits.
They were staring straight at us.
One was Kurosaki Tatsuya. Cropped hair, narrow, sharp eyes. An old scar running from his left temple down to his cheek.
The other was a face I'd never seen before. A large man with a square jaw, built like his head sprouted directly from his shoulders with no neck in between.
When our eyes met, the two of them slowly melted into the crowd and disappeared.
(*As I thought, we're being watched.*)
Aoi didn't reject Matsuri of her own will.
She deliberately pushed her away coldly—to protect Matsuri.
"—Matsuri."
Before I could call out to her.
Matsuri's knees buckled.
"Wha—"
She crouched down on the spot and stopped moving.
People around us glanced our way. I could hear hushed voices wondering what was going on.
"[scared]Hey, get a hold of yourself."
I grabbed her arm and tried to force her to stand.
Matsuri didn't resist. But she seemed to have no strength to stand on her own either.
Her eyes were unfocused.
"[calm]...This way."
I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and led her out of the crowd.
――――
On the banks of the Kamo River, the veil of night was beginning to descend.
The river's surface reflected the twilight,
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