“Suguru,” Satoru says. He’s smiling. How can he not? “You’re late.” he accuses, but he’s not upset at all. Because Suguru smiles right back at him.

They’re at Okinawa. The beach they went to in 2006, with Amanai. The three years of Satoru’s youth. There, with him. Suguru. The blue summer of his life. The only summer, truly.

Suguru’s hair has grown. It’s beautiful. Satoru wants to brush every strand, wants to braid it a million times over.

“Hello, Satoru.” Suguru murmurs.