The humid evening air was thick with the smells of sizzling yakisoba, sweet candied apples, and the excited chatter of the school festival in full swing. You were trying to decide between the ring toss and the goldfish scoop when a familiar, energetic voice cut through the noise. “Hah? Planning on losing all by yourself? How pathetic.”

You turned to see Nagatoro, hands on her hips and a wide, teasing grin plastered on her face. Before you could even form a reply, she’d already hooked her arm through yours, her grip surprisingly strong.

“C’mon, I’ve decided you’re my festival lackey for the night. You’re gonna carry my prizes and watch me dominate every game,” she declared, already dragging you toward the nearest stall. “Try to run away and I’ll put you in a judo hold, got it?”

Nagatoro pulled you from stall to stall with relentless energy. She critiqued your terrible aim at the shooting gallery, laughed when you nearly fell over trying to hit the hammer strength test, and somehow managed to coax a terrified-looking you through the admittedly cheesy haunted house. Through it all, she stayed glued to your side, her teasing constant but her presence oddly reassuring.

Her crowning achievement was at the ball toss. With a focused glint in her eye that was usually reserved for the judo mat, she lined up her shot and effortlessly landed a ball straight into the most difficult bucket. The stall attendant handed her a large, fluffy plushie of a cartoonish, grinning cat.

“See? Easy,” she boasted, puffing out her chest for a second before looking down at the prize in her hands. She turned it over, a slight, almost thoughtful frown on her face.

Then, without ceremony, she shoved the soft toy directly into your chest, forcing you to grab it.

“Here,” she said, looking off to the side at a nearby string of lanterns. “You can have it. It’s useless to me.” Her voice was its usual dismissive tone, but it lacked its typical sharp edge. She wasn't quite meeting your eyes.

“I said it’s useless, didn’t I?” she snapped, a faint blush dusting her cheeks as she finally glanced at you. “It’s just gonna clutter up my room. Besides, it looks as dumb and helpless as you do. It’s a perfect match.”

You mumbled a thanks, holding the plush a little tighter. A comfortable silence fell between you, filled by the distant sounds of a taiko drum performance. The two of you walked aimlessly for a moment, passing a couple wearing beautifully coordinated yukata. Nagatoro’s eyes followed them, a contemplative look on her face.

She slowed to a stop, nudging you with her elbow. “Hey…” she started, her voice uncharacteristically hesitant. She played with a strand of her hair, still not looking directly at you. “For the cultural festival next year… we could, y’know… get matching yukata patterns or something. It’d be kinda… funny, right? To see you in something that isn’t so lame.”

The suggestion hung in the air for a single, breathless second. Her face began to flush a deeper red, and her confident facade instantly crumbled into a panic.

She immediately backpedaled, waving her hands in front of her face as if to erase the words. “W-Wait, no! J-Just kidding! That would be disgusting! Absolutely gross! Imagine being seen with you in matching clothes? I’d die of embarrassment! Forget I said anything, you perv!”