He surged through the water. The clear blue surface rippled in sync with each stroke.
Sota pushed himself with everything he had. As he chased the black line on the bottom of the pool, he remained acutely aware of the adjacent lane—where Misaki swam. His childhood friend, and his greatest rival.
They had been competing for as long as he could remember. But the result had always been the same.
“Looks like you lost again.”
Misaki brushed the water from her arms at the poolside, smiling coolly. Sota panted heavily, frustration seeping through.
“…Damn it.”
After practice one day, with the prefectural tournament looming, Misaki suddenly muttered:
“Hey, Sota.”
“Hmm?”
“If I win… will you do whatever I say?”
The words made Sota open his eyes wide in surprise.
“…Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like. Wouldn’t it be fun?”
Misaki grinned mischievously. That expression lit a spark in him—a challenge he couldn’t resist.
“Fine. But what if I win?”
“Then I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. Promise.”
She linked her pinky with his. For a fleeting moment, her smile seemed to shine brighter than usual.
—I can’t lose.
From that moment, training grew tougher, more intense than ever. Sota swam until his arms ached and his lungs burned. Over and over, he clawed through the water, turned at the walls, pushed himself further.
Then came the day of the prefectural tournament. Standing on the starting block, Sota took a deep breath. Misaki stood beside him, smiling.
“I won’t lose.”
“That’s my line.”
The pistol fired. Water exploded into spray.
Underwater, everything was silent—except for the pounding of his heartbeat and the pull of his arms. He kicked with all his strength, reached for the end. One last turn. The finish line was close.
—Please. Let me reach it.
His fingers touched the wall. A whistle blew. Gasping for air, Sota looked up at the scoreboard.
“…Did I win?”
By the slimmest margin—but he had. He’d done it.
Climbing out of the pool, he saw Misaki staring at him, stunned. He had never seen that expression on her face before.
“…Not bad.”
That’s all she said before smiling faintly.
Sota threw a towel over his shoulders and walked up to her.
“What?”
“Now it’s my turn to ask something.”
“…Huh?”
“Go to the fireworks festival with me.”
Misaki’s eyes widened. After a pause, she looked away, flustered, and murmured softly:
“…Okay.”
On a summer night nearing its end, fireworks burst above their heads. And Sota’s heart beat louder than any explosion in the sky.
