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IT'S A DAY before the school-wide cultural festival. Osamu writes the final menu items on the blackboard, and the boys watch him. In the center of the room, there's a clump of desks, with the girls sitting down and carefully sewing the last touches to the maid outfits. You finish lacing a headband and notice how hard everyone is working together.
Standing up, you announce, "I'm going to the convenience store to pick up some stuff, my treat! What does everyone want?"
Your classmates cheer—a bit too excitedly, though everyone here is a hungry, hormonal teenager. You laugh as they fight over a piece of paper to scribble down their favorite snacks. After they finish, you fold the list and tuck it into your pocket. You look behind before leaving the room. Osamu sends you a glance, though he quickly goes back to working with the boys on the menu, and you close the door behind you.
While jogging to the convenience store, you can't help but let your mind wander off to Atsumu. He hasn't been able to partake in any of the after-school festivities because the coach convinced him to come to every practice. It makes sense that the volleyball prodigy of Inarizaki needs to prioritize his sport, but you wish that you could spend more time together, that you could understand him more.
Shaking the thought away, you enter the convenience store. Atsumu's been plaguing your mind recently, but you're not sure why. You pick up family-size bags of chips and other snacks that your classmates requested and place them in a basket. As you wait in line to pay, the rack of magazines catches your eye, and you take the sports magazine off the top shelf. You flip through it absentmindedly.
"Hey, what's taking so long?"
Looking up, you notice that there's an impatient man in a business suit waiting in line behind you. He seems like he needs to be somewhere soon. You put the magazine back on the rack and focus on the person in front of you. He's currently being handled by the cashier, but he's patting down and searching through his own pockets. From his back profile, he looks like he's around your age, and on the counter, there's a carton of milk.
