The July sun mercilessly baked the asphalt. The cicadas were noisy. The air was heavy. That unpleasant humidity unique to summer, where each breath makes your lungs feel sticky. In a messy classroom with desks scattered about, there were four figures. Shota. Osamu. Yuka. And you. The four of them had been classmates since middle school. There was no special reason for them to gather like this after school. Just because, just because, just because. They kept on gathering like that, and before they knew it, it had become the norm. As always, it was Shota who suggested it today.