talk of summertime

Kou’s childhood isn’t all that extraordinary, but the boy named Sousuke Mitsuba makes it feel electrifying.

Kou meets him in May, months before he turns eight. He lives ten minutes away from the grand manor of the Minamotos, so Kou spends the days of late spring walking over a sunlit bridge to see him. He isn’t of the noblesse as Kou or his brother are, but his mother has some particular status that could, in the future, compare to that. Kou doesn’t really care about that anyways, though; he’s more concerned with who Mitsuba is than what his parents spend their days talking about. So, no matter what they think of it, Kou starts to skip over a sunlit bridge to see Mitsuba, and spends afternoons under cherry blossom leaves talking to him until sundown.

Kou likes him. A lot. It’s odd, because he never sees anyone visit Mitsuba like he does, and Mitsuba never talks about anyone else in a good way. Maybe Mitsuba is rude and kind of a brat (or really a brat,) but two weeks into May and they’ve forged a bond closer than words can explain. So, despite the way that Mitsuba rags on him for being a “super-lame, wannabe hero,” Kou’s pretty sure he can recognize when Mitsuba means what he says. Because Mitsuba talks about his mother in a fond, but faint tone, and about Kou in a huffy but tolerating tone, but everyone else is the same: and Kou can hear some kind of wanting in his voice when he mentions a classmate or neighbor, but it’s too distant, too estranged from whatever image Kou develops of them in his mind. And Kou—

Well, Kou’s never heard Mitsuba hate anyone, so ‘neutral’ ends up being ‘not quite a good way’ instead.

The point is that everyone probably thinks it’s odd that Kou’s close friends with a huffy kid a few minutes away from his home, but he doesn’t really care about that point. He’s satisfied enough as is just being there, liking his conversations with him and continuing to talk to him as the seasons change; that’s more important than anything else about him. With that priority guiding their talks, Kou ends up knowing the boy more and more—and Mitsuba does, too, Kou’s regular openness aside.

But of course things come to an end—or, well, no. Kou’s being a little dramatic, there. Things go on pause, even if Kou doesn’t want them to. Because when July comes, the count will take his wife and two sons to a villa far southeast of here for two months—and will return once the sunlight wanes and the next school year should begin. So, on the last day of June, with most his things packed up, Kou sprints over the sunlit bridge, and drags Mitsuba to the mound under the cherry blossom leaves.

“I’m leaving,” he blurts out, because it’s the first thing he can think of. Mitsuba’s silent, the typical ‘Huuh?’ already painted on his face; then, he’s staring at him, eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed tighter than ever.

“Huuh?” Oh, sheesh, he’s far too on cue. “What do you mean you’re leaving?”

“I mean I’m going!” Kou sputters, because he doesn’t understand how he can clear it up any better. “My dad’s taking us to the country for the rest of the summer. I won’t be back.”

“Until the end of summer!” he groans. “That doesn’t mean you’re leaving forever. Sheesh, can’t the super-lame hella-dramatic wannabe hero tell the difference?”

“Of course h—of course I can! I just… wanted to tell you. You know, so I don’t just look like I up and left you.”

And that is how their friendship begins.

When the Minamotos travel back to the flower city, Kou doesn’t forget him. And Mitsuba doesn’t forget him, either. Despite the circumstances, they end up being close friends—or, at least, Kou would like to say that.

Kou’s childhood isn’t all that extraordinary, but the boy named Sousuke Mitsuba makes it feel electrifying.

Sousuke Mitsuba lives ten minutes away from the Minamotos, at least if Kou walks quickly. He’s this—this ridiculous kid, and he takes up a lot of Kou’s free time when he visits. It’s okay, though! Kou doesn’t have anything else to do, anyways, since he’s seven turning eight, so they become friends faster than lightning can hit the ground and run for it.

At first, their friendship seems like it’ll be slow-going. But one day, when their moms let them, they walk past this great, towering building. Though it casts a long shadow over their heads, it’s hard not to see the fine details in the architecture. Carvings twirl around the pillars like veins, deep enough to trace with their fingers. Statues sit next to and on top of the marble, with angels and crows dipped in gold and silver.

The first time that they see it, Mitsuba’s eyes dazzle like gems. Kou’s heard rhinestones are a type of gem and he wants to call them that. Teru-nii would tell him that a better-fitting description would be something like rhodonite or rhodolite, though, even if “row-dough-something-ight” doesn’t begin to describe the sight. Mitsuba’s eyes are incomparably great and sparkling; the number of shapes of pink and magenta and gold and blue are so endless, he’d need a million more people to help count it on their hands. And, Kou…

Well, he doesn’t have the same reaction. Still, he recognizes this building: it’s the famous opera house of the flower capital. And, of all the people to know it best…

“Oh! My parents know this place really well!” Kou grins, taking hold of Mitsuba’s hand. “And I’ve been here a ton! There’s always a lot of singing!”

“It’s an opera house, isn’t it?” Mitsuba turns towards him, still frozen in place. Kou nods, and Mitsuba adds, “Of course there’s singing! That’s obviously how the shows here work.”

He sounds kinda rude when he says this, and Kou should care, but he’s too dizzy from the way Mitsuba’s eyes still shine towards him and they talk to each other so much that he’s already used to it. So he nods, and he says, “I didn’t know that!” and even though Mitsuba is about to kick him in the ankles because he should know it, he laughs it off and tugs him through the gaping doors. They run through the open hallways, laughing and yelling until Kou’s mom finds them and sighs and pulls them back out of the opera house because of all places they definitely shouldn’t have been making a scene in there.

Still, though, it’s the most fun that Kou’s ever had in a while: so fun that his body still shakes with sparks of lightning when they board a tight, stuffy carriage. Mitsuba fusses next to him the entire time, so Kou just talks and talks to him, and even if he gets called annoying and lame half the time he’s not at all exhausted when the trip ends.

They don’t talk about it—well, not until the next day, of course, because Mitsuba doesn’t have anyone else to talk to. It’s the first thing Mitsuba talks about when he runs over the bridge to meet him, and it’s the most confident Kou’s ever heard him.

“I’ll be the best singer there!” he smirks, pointing in whichever way the opera house is supposed to be. “Nobody’ll be able to resist someone as cute as me!”

“Really?!” Kou gasps, leaning towards him. “Well, then—I wanna watch your first show! I’ll invite everyone to it so they know how cool you are!”

“Haah? You? How are you going to do something like that? Don’t tell me—” Mitsuba leans away, and Kou leans further until he gets pushed away. “Are you in one of those creepy book clubs that summons fairies and phantoms? Is that who you’re gonna invite, huh?”

“No way!” Kou throws up his arms, and points to all the other buildings he can see. “I’m gonna invite everyone in the whole city! I’m gonna make sure everyone hears you and knows how good of a singer you are as soon as you finish singing! And I’ll get mom and dad to help, and I’ll get Teru-nii to help, too, so I won’t let you down!”

So, in the summertime, they run across the bridge on the river and sing duets from the Camellia Opera House. They’re kids, so they’re dumb and off-key and sometimes they come close to losing their voice, but they never do. In winter, they take those songs indoors, where Kou’s mom set up this huge piano and they play one half of the keys, singing and singing until their throats dry up.