Adrenaline rush—it's like an old friend I haven't seen in ages, suddenly back for a wild reunion. It kicks in so hard that Ayaka practically fades into the background, her complaints drowning in the sea of noise around us. But you know what? If she decides she's had enough and turns back home, so be it. She can chew me out all night when I get back; I'll handle it, even if it means my ears are going to be ringing afterwards. But right now, there's something else that's got all my attention.
Being tall definitely has its perks; I can scan over the crowd without a hitch, moving forward as I lightly brush past the sea of shorter folks who might as well be spinning tops when our shoulders clash.
But then, ouch!
A dude coming from the other direction barrels into me, the jolt sending my shoulder swinging to the right as time itself seems to crawl to a halt. It feels like gravity's got a hold on my vision, pulling it towards a pair of sharp, almond-shaped eyes framed by round glasses with thin rims. A scatter of freckles dances across a slender nose below those eyes, and I catch a glimpse of lips curling upward accompanied by a clicking tongue. But just as quickly as it slowed, time snaps back to its usual pace, and the guy rushes past, leaving nothing but the sight of his sandy-blonde hair disappearing into the crowd.
"That guy! That blonde-haired guy!" a voice calls out from behind, jolting me back to reality. I spin around, trying to pinpoint the source.
Before I can locate it, another shout cuts through the festival's noisy backdrop, "Catch him! He touched Miura-san!"
Huh? What's going on? As confusion mounts, I whip my head back towards where the collision happened, searching for any sign of the guy I'd run into. But there's no trace of him, just Ayaka finally catching up, breathless.
"What happened?" she pants, her face mirroring the bewilderment I feel and that seems to ripple through the crowd.
I can only shrug in response, equally puzzled and curious about the unfolding drama.
Everyone's gaze shifts forward, following the origin of the shouts, and as the crowd starts to migrate, I grab Ayaka's hand and pull her with me toward the epicentre of the excitement. We weave through the bodies, arriving in front of a booth adorned with a handmade sign.
"The Nature Art Club, huh…?"
Whispers and murmurs bubble around us, echoing the curiosity churning in my own mind. What could possibly be stirring up such a fuss?
"What's going on?" I ask a girl next to me who's tiptoeing, straining for a better view.
"I'm not too sure, but it seems there was a molesting incident just now," she answers, craning her neck to meet my gaze.
But yeah, that lines up with the shouting—but molestation at a public event, broad daylight? I always figured that was more a cramped train kind of horror. So, what is this guy? Some old-school pervert-chikan? Heh.
I edge forward, sneaking my way through the gathered crowd, and poke my head into the makeshift art gallery that's bursting with vivid, nature-themed paintings. Yet, amidst the splashes of colour and strokes of genius, my eyes are drawn straight to the centre of the room. There stands Maki, her face etched with a clear mark of distress.
Now that's a twist I didn't see coming. What on earth happened to her?
"Tetsurou-kun…?" Maki's voice cuts through the buzz, tinged with disbelief and panic. "What are you doing here...?"
Hah, me? Are you actually asking me that? God, I'm itching to throw her question right back at her, maybe dial up the drama to a level that'd light up our social feeds in seconds. But let's get one thing straight—I'm not about that attention-seeking life, so I feign ignorance.
"What happened, Maki?" I edge closer, adopting the tone of a concerned boyfriend.
"Uhm… that's…"
Yup, I can see how uncomfortable she is. To everyone else, she might just look shaken up by the incident with that blonde-haired guy, but well, they don't know my side of the story.
"I heard someone touched you. Are you okay?" I continue, layering my voice with 'concern', perfectly keeping up with my role.
"Yes… did you see that guy— the one with blonde hair?" Maki asks, her eyes searching mine for a clue.
To tell the truth, yeah, I did see him. But what's my play here? If I grab him, what's next? Are you going to spill why you lied about your jam-packed schedule, why you said you couldn't make it to this festival? Hm?
"No, I didn't notice him," I lie smoothly.
Right, unless I'm getting something out of it, I'm not about to run around chasing some guy for her. Not without knowing the full story.