Izu Beach — 8:19 PM

  The beach was a different world at night.

  The harsh heat of the afternoon had faded, replaced by a cool breeze that carried the scent of salt and grilled corn from the boardwalk. The sand still held warmth beneath their feet, but closer to the shoreline it cooled where waves rolled in, dragging silver foam across the shore before retreating again.

  Above them, the sky stretched wide and endless — velvet-dark and scattered with stars. A half-moon hung low, its reflection cutting a pale road across the water.

  At the center of the beach, the resort’s bonfire roared.

  Logs cracked and hissed as sparks spiraled upward, embers lifting into the night air like fireflies. Around it, clusters of guests sat on towels and blankets, their laughter blending with the steady rhythm of the waves.

  Kazuki stood with his hands in the pockets of his shorts, black headphones hanging silent around his neck. His expression was calm, but his eyes lingered on the fire longer than necessary, as if it were pulling something out of him.

  “Finally,” Kenji said, dragging a beach chair across the sand with an earsplitting screech. “Now this is a vibe. Fire, stars, ocean—”

  He tripped over the chair and nearly faceplanted.

  “—and me, the heart of the group,” he finished weakly.

  Naomi sighed, arms folded. “You’re more like the death of subtlety.”

  Hana laughed, brushing sand from her legs as she dropped onto a blanket. “Don’t worry. Every group needs a clown.”

  “Excuse you,” Kenji protested. “I’m multifaceted.”

  Shun hovered near the edge of the circle, arms crossed, eyes scanning the crowd with quiet caution. The firelight caught in his hair, turning it copper for a moment before he finally sat down.

  Ayame placed a small cooler beside the blankets and sat cross-legged, posture far too proper for a beach. “Drink water,” she ordered, sliding bottles toward them. “No excuses.”

  “You’re unbelievable,” Hana muttered — but she took one anyway.

  Aoi and Mika joined last, laughing softly as they settled opposite Hana. Mika adjusted her sunhat — still wearing it despite the dark — and smiled.

  “This already feels like a memory,” she said.

  The fire popped, sending sparks into the sky. Somewhere down the beach, a guitar played lazily, its melody drifting through the night.

  Summer had shifted gears — from chaos to calm, from noise to glow.

  Izu Beach Bonfire — 8:47 PM

  Kenji leaned forward, eyes wide, shadows dancing across his face like he’d rehearsed the moment.

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  “Alright,” he whispered dramatically. “Gather close. It’s time… for a tale of horror.”

  Hana raised an eyebrow. “You? Horror?”

  “Don’t doubt me,” Kenji said, lowering his voice. “They say on this very beach, a spirit roams. A drowned samurai, betrayed by his own men. On moonlit nights, he rises from the sea—”

  Naomi cut in flatly. “—and trips over a beach chair?”

  The group snickered.

  Kenji shot her a glare. “Can you not ruin the atmosphere?”

  “What atmosphere?” Naomi asked. “All I see is you auditioning for flashlight tag.”

  Kenji powered on. “They say you can hear his footsteps in the sand behind you—”

  He paused, eyes flicking over Hana’s shoulder.

  Hana’s grin faltered. “…What?”

  Kenji whispered, “Right… behind… you.”

  Hana whipped around. Nothing but darkness and waves.

  Her face burned as laughter exploded around the fire.

  “Classic,” Naomi muttered. “Predictable and cheap.”

  “Not funny!” Hana snapped, swatting Kenji’s arm.

  Kenji laughed so hard he nearly tipped into the fire. “Oh man, that was priceless—”

  A gust of wind rattled umbrellas further down the beach, sending one crashing into the sand with a hollow thunk.

  Kenji froze.

  “…That was planned, right?” Naomi asked.

  Kenji’s face paled. “…Maybe.”

  Naomi tilted her head. “So the ghost’s big move is interior decorating?”

  Kenji screamed and scrambled backward, tripping over his chair and landing flat in the sand.

  The group roared with laughter.

  Even Kazuki cracked a rare smile, shaking his head.

  “Ghost hunter, huh?” Hana teased. “More like ghost bait.”

  Kenji groaned into the sand. “I hate you all.”

  “No,” Naomi corrected calmly. “You hate yourself. We’re just the audience.”

  Izu Beach — 9:12 PM

  The laughter lingered, but Hana had already drifted away.

  She walked toward the water’s edge, sandals dangling from her fingers. The waves brushed her toes, cool and gentle.

  Kazuki noticed almost immediately.

  He rose without a word and followed, stopping a pace behind her.

  “You disappeared,” he said softly.

  “Needed air,” Hana replied. “Fire’s too hot.”

  “The ocean’s cooler.”

  They stood side by side, moonlight stretching across the water like silver glass.

  “…Do you ever think about the future?” Hana asked.

  Kazuki blinked. “The future?”

  “Where you’ll be. What you’ll be doing.”

  He watched the horizon, quiet for a moment.

  “Thinking too far ahead never worked out for me,” he said finally. “Right now feels… lighter.”

  Hana laughed softly. “That’s the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said.”

  “But you liked it.”

  She didn’t deny it.

  A shout from Kenji shattered the quiet, pulling them back toward the fire.

  Izu Beach Bonfire — 10:02 PM

  The fire had burned low, embers glowing steadily.

  The group gathered closer.

  “Next year’s gonna be wild,” Aoi said. “The festival’s expanding.”

  “Other schools,” Ayame added. “Serious ones.”

  “Good,” Kenji grinned. “I like competition.”

  “Speaking of music,” Mika said, smiling. “I can’t wait to hear more singing.”

  Hana nodded. “Yeah. Especially—”

  “Hana,” Kazuki cut in quickly.

  Naomi leaned forward. “KAZ hasn’t released anything in a while. No music. No shows.”

  Kazuki stiffened.

  “Maybe he’s tired of performing,” he said carefully.

  Hana watched him, heart tightening.

  Ayame stretched. “Whatever comes next, we’ll handle it together.”

  “Let’s make it a good year,” Hana said softly.

  Kazuki met her eyes. “…Yeah.”

  The waves rolled in.

  Something was ending.

  Something bigger was beginning.

  Izu Beach — 6:12 AM

  Morning came quietly.

  The sky was painted in pink and gold as the group gathered their bags for one last look at the beach.

  Then Hana stopped.

  “…Who are they?”

  Down the shoreline stood another group — matching uniforms, confident posture.

  At their center, a silver-haired boy watched Kazuki closely.

  “Hikarisawa Academy,” Ayame whispered.

  Kenji squinted. “Is that guy famous?”

  The boy smiled knowingly.

  Kazuki felt cold recognition settle in his chest.

  The boy mouthed:

  “Let’s compete.”

  The sun rose.

  Volume 2 had stepped onto the stage.