Summer vacation didn't arrive quietly.
It burst into existence—
loud,
bright,
and unapologetically hot.
The kind of heat that didn't just sit in the air—
it pressed down on everything.
The streets shimmered.
The walls radiated warmth.
Even the wind, when it bothered to exist, felt like it had given up halfway.
Inside his room—
Minato lay sprawled across his bed like a defeated warrior.
One arm hanging off the side.
The other resting over his eyes.
The ceiling fan spun lazily above him, making more noise than difference.
"…This is it," he muttered.
A pause.
"…This is how I go."
His phone buzzed against the floor.
Once.
Twice.
Reluctantly—
he leaned over, picked it up, and squinted at the screen.
Shin Hitori.
Minato stared at the name for a few seconds.
"…Why is he awake?" he whispered, as if Shin could hear him through the screen.
He answered the call anyway.
"…If this is about studying, I'm not home."
"You are home," Shin's calm voice came instantly.
Minato sat up.
"…How do you know that?"
"Because you're not the type to go outside in this heat."
Minato slowly turned his head toward the window.
Sunlight poured in like an attack.
"…You're right," he admitted quietly.
"Come out," Shin said.
Minato blinked.
"…Say that again."
"Come out."
Minato pulled the phone away and stared at it like it had personally offended him.
"…Are you feeling okay?" he asked carefully.
"I need to buy something."
"…And this concerns me because…?"
"You said you'd come."
Minato froze.
A memory flashed.
Him.
Confident.
Proud.
Saying "I'll come to your place."
"…That was before summer," he said weakly.
A short pause.
"I'm outside."
Minato shot up from the bed.
"WHAT?!"
He rushed to the window and looked down.
There he was.
Standing under the burning sun—
as if temperature didn't apply to him.
Shin Hitori.
Still.
Calm.
Alive.
"…You're not human," Minato whispered.
Ten painfully long minutes later—
Minato stepped outside.
Slowly.
Like someone testing whether the world was safe.
The heat hit him instantly.
"…No," he said, stepping back slightly.
"…No, I refuse."
Shin looked at him.
"…You're already outside."
Minato sighed dramatically and stepped forward again.
"…If I collapse, you're carrying me."
"I won't."
"…Then I'll collapse near witnesses."
They started walking.
The road stretched ahead, empty in patches, alive in others.
Cicadas buzzed somewhere in the distance, their noise blending into the thick air.
Minato wiped sweat from his forehead.
"…Why is the sun so aggressive?"
"It's summer."
"Yeah, but this feels personal."
They walked past a few houses, then small shops, then finally reached a convenience store.
The moment the door slid open—
cool air wrapped around them.
Minato stopped walking.
Completely.
His eyes closed.
His shoulders relaxed.
"…I've seen heaven," he whispered.
Shin ignored him and walked inside.
Minato followed slowly, as if afraid the cool air might disappear if he moved too fast.
A few minutes later—
Shin returned with a single bottle of water.
Minato stared at it.
"…You dragged me out… for this?"
"Yes."
"…You couldn't buy this alone?"
"I could."
Minato blinked slowly.
"…Then WHY am I here?"
"You said you'd come."
Minato placed a hand over his face.
"…I really did this to myself."
They stepped outside again.
The heat returned instantly—
like it had been waiting.
"…I regret everything," Minato muttered.
They walked again.
No rush.
No destination.
Just movement.
After a while—
voices echoed from nearby.
A group of students stood under the shade of a tree.
Laughing.
Talking.
Sharing something cold.
Minato glanced at them.
Watched for a moment.
"…We should do something like that too," he said.
Shin didn't look.
"…Like what?"
"I don't know. Anything. Normal summer stuff."
A pause.
Shin thought.
"…We're already outside."
Minato turned to him slowly.
"…That's your idea of fun?"
"Yes."
Minato stared at him for a long second.
Then sighed.
"…I need new friends."
Shin looked at him.
Calm.
Unbothered.
"…You won't find better."
Minato blinked.
That—
was unexpected.
A small smirk formed on his face.
"…That sounded confident."
Shin didn't reply.
But he didn't deny it either.
They kept walking.
Under the burning sun.
Through quiet streets.
Past moments that didn't seem important—
but somehow stayed.
No plans.
No excitement.
No grand memories.
Just complaints.
Small conversations.
And the strange comfort of not being alone.
And somehow—
in the middle of all that heat—
that was enough.
They had been walking for what felt like an entire lifetime.
Or at least—
long enough for Minato to question every decision that had led him here.
"…My legs are filing a complaint," he muttered.
Shin kept walking.
Unbothered.
Unaffected.
Unfair.
The street stretched ahead, lined with small shops and faded signboards.
Somewhere in the distance, a radio played an old summer song.
The air still burned—
but it had softened, just a little.
Then—
Minato's steps slowed.
Something caught his eye.
A bright poster, slightly tilted on the wall of a small shop.
Colors vivid.
Text bold.
Lanterns drawn across the top.
Summer Festival – Coming Soon
Minato stopped completely.
"…Oh."
Shin took a few more steps before noticing.
"…What?"
Minato didn't answer.
He just stood there—
staring at the poster.
Then—
slowly—
he turned his head.
And looked at Shin.
Not normally.
But with that look.
A quiet.
Dangerous.
Mischievous look.
The kind that didn't need words.
"…Don't," Shin said immediately.
Minato's smile widened.
"So…" he began, dragging the word like it had plans of its own.
Shin looked away.
Fast.
Too fast.
"…I didn't say anything yet," Minato said, pretending innocence.
"You don't need to."
Minato stepped closer.
"…Hehehe…"
Shin took a step forward.
"…We're not going."
"Wow," Minato nodded seriously. "Great discussion. I completely agree."
A pause.
"…Let's go."
"We're not going," Shin repeated.
Minato circled around him, trying to catch his eyes.
"Come on, think about it."
"No."
"Food stalls."
"No."
"Games."
"No."
"Fireworks."
"No."
"…People watching?"
Shin paused for half a second.
Minato's eyes lit up.
"I saw that."
"You didn't."
"I definitely did."
Shin turned his face away again.
"…We're not going."
Minato clasped his hands dramatically.
"Please, my dear emotionally unavailable friend."
"…Stop calling me that."
"It's accurate."
"No."
Minato leaned closer, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret.
"…You don't even have to enjoy it."
"…That's not convincing."
"You can just stand there and judge people silently."
Shin didn't respond.
Minato smirked.
"…That's basically your hobby."
A brief silence.
Shin exhaled quietly.
"…You're annoying."
"And yet," Minato grinned, "here I am."
Shin didn't look at him.
Didn't agree.
Didn't refuse again.
He just started walking.
Minato blinked.
"…Wait."
A pause.
"…Was that a yes?"
No answer.
Minato's smile slowly grew.
"…Hehehe…"
He followed after him, hands behind his head, looking far too satisfied for someone who had just walked under the sun for hours.
And Shin—
still avoiding his gaze—
said nothing.
Because he already knew—
even if he said no—
he was going to be dragged anyway.