Chapter 122: Japanese-Style Girl

In the end, Kouya still got dragged into the shop by Takanashi Rikka. No matter how many excuses he made, she just kept pulling his sleeve, her grip stubbornly firm for such a small girl. Her big eye sparkled with determination, and her ahoge bobbed up and down as she pleaded, the picture of pure persistence.

Inside, the contrast with the festival outside was striking. The air here was cool and faintly scented with fresh fabric and incense. While laughter and the sound of festival drums echoed faintly through the walls, the shop itself felt calm and old-fashioned—wooden floors, soft lighting, and racks filled with colorful fabrics that fluttered gently when the door opened.

Rikka’s eyes shone as she darted between displays, her enthusiasm completely unmatched. “Hero, hero! Look at this cloak! Don’t you think it totally fits you?” she said, pointing dramatically at a dark robe.

Kouya followed her gaze. A black cloak with red clouds was hanging there.

Oh, come on. That’s literally the Akatsuki cloak from that anime.

He pinched his temple. “You’ve got… particular taste.”

“Eh? But it’s cool! You’d look so strong and mysterious in it! Especially if you carried a big sword!” she said, waving her arms to emphasize the image.

Kouya sighed and flicked her forehead, expression flat. “You pick for yourself. I’ll just watch.”

“Ow! You’re so mean, Hero!” she whined, rubbing her forehead, her ahoge trembling pitifully. “Fine, I’ll pick something for me then.”

She stomped away with exaggerated steps, her sandals squeaking softly against the floor as she approached the kimono section. “Let’s look at kimonos, then.”

“Kimonos?” Kouya looked around. It was true—most festival-goers wore them. His shirt and jeans felt out of place here, surrounded by people so elegantly dressed. He nodded. “Alright, let’s see what they’ve got.”

The inn they stayed at had some spare yukata, but they were plain, the kind offered to tourists without much thought. Here, the variety was overwhelming. Shelves overflowed with vivid colors—crimson, indigo, lilac—and fabrics embroidered with intricate floral and bird motifs. The scent of new cloth filled the air.

Rikka eagerly picked up one after another, holding them against herself. “How about this one? Hero, this color suits me, right? Or maybe this one?”

Kouya gave a polite nod each time. “Not bad.” “Looks fine.” “Sure.”

After several rounds of noncommittal answers, Rikka puffed up her cheeks. “You’re supposed to help! Say something other than ‘fine’!” she huffed.

But then she spotted a soft pink-and-white yukata with delicate cherry blossom patterns. Her frustration melted into awe. “This one… this one feels special.”

She held it up against her body and smiled shyly. “What do you think?”

Kouya glanced at her and shrugged. “Looks good.”

That earned him a tiny smile, and she hugged the yukata close as if it were a treasure.

It’s worth mentioning that a yukata isn’t actually meant for bathing. It’s a summer kimono—simple, light, and colorful. In the Heian period, nobles wore them to protect their skin during steam baths, but by the Edo era, cotton had become common, and the fashion spread among the people. Eventually, it became tradition to wear them at summer festivals, a custom that remained even in modern Japan.

Formal kimonos were another story altogether—seven layers, heavy sashes, and a level of complexity that made wearing one almost ceremonial. Yukata were freedom by comparison—comfortable, vibrant, and easy to move in.

……

The shop had a fitting room tucked in the corner, marked by a small cat-shaped charm hanging from the door handle. A reversible sign read “Available” on one side and “Do Not Disturb” on the other. It was quaint and cute, clearly made to avoid awkward misunderstandings.

Once Rikka went inside with her chosen yukata, Kouya roamed aimlessly, occasionally glancing at the displays of fans and accessories. The faint music from the festival drifted in, making the air feel lazy and serene.

A minute later, the fitting room door creaked open just a little, and a small head with a single twitching ahoge peeked out.

“Kouya-kun~” Rikka’s voice was barely audible, her cheeks flushed scarlet.

Kouya raised an eyebrow. “What now?”

“T-The string broke!”

He blinked. “What string?”

Rikka’s blush deepened, her voice dropping to a whisper. “It’s… um… the string on my underwear…”

Kouya froze. “Wait. What?”

“It’s the kind that ties around the neck…” she added quickly, her hands fidgeting nervously behind the door.

Kouya rubbed his temple. “Okay, and why exactly are you telling me this?”

“Because… because my phone’s at the inn charging, and I can’t call anyone else!” she said, her eyes beginning to glisten. “Hero, please… it’s uncomfortable…”

He sighed heavily. “You can’t be serious.”

“I-I just need you to tie it back for me! It’s not really broken, just came undone,” she stammered, her face red as a tomato.

Kouya nearly groaned out loud. “You realize how bad that sounds, right? If someone walks in—”

“There’s only the shopkeeper!” she interrupted, panic rising. “And he’s all the way at the counter!”

Still, the thought of being caught was mortifying. He shook his head firmly. “No way. I’m calling Vigne.”

He pulled out his phone and dialed quickly. “Vigne. Emergency.”

Her voice came through the speaker, bright but slightly muffled by festival noise. “Kouya-kun? What’s wrong?”

He explained everything as briefly as possible.

“…I see.” There was a short silence, then a sigh. “Alright, I’m coming.”

A few minutes later, Vigne appeared at the entrance with Kanna beside her.

“Where is she?” Vigne asked at once.

Kouya pointed at the fitting room, where the “Do Not Disturb” sign now swayed slightly. “In there.”

“Got it.” Vigne marched forward, knocking gently. “Rikka, it’s me.”

The door cracked open, revealing Rikka’s red, teary face. “V-Vigne…”

Vigne smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it handled.” She turned her head, glaring daggers at Kouya. “And you—don’t even think about listening in.”

Kouya sighed. “Who’d even want to?”

He turned away and walked toward the front with Kanna, who had been quietly observing everything. She fanned herself with a small, embroidered folding fan decorated with cranes. After a moment, she tilted it toward him and started gently fanning him instead.

“Huh?” Kouya looked down. “When did you get so considerate?”

Kanna blinked, her blue eyes unreadable. Then she tugged lightly at his sleeve and pointed toward a nearby cake shop. “Want.”

He exhaled through his nose. “Of course you do.”

He bought her an egg tart, which she ate happily in small, careful bites. The sweetness of the custard seemed to brighten her expression just a little.

Moments later, the faint sound of approaching footsteps reached them. He turned—and froze.

Two girls emerged from the shop.

Their hair was tied up neatly, exposing their slender, pale necks. The pink-and-white yukata hugged their figures gracefully, tied at the waist with deep crimson sashes that accentuated their delicate curves. The soft fabric fluttered faintly as they walked, illuminated by the afternoon sunlight streaming through the window.

For a moment, Kouya forgot to breathe.

It was Rikka, now dressed in her yukata, her expression shy but proud.

Kanna’s eyes sparkled like twin gems as she cupped her cheeks.

“Wow…”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep