The summer sun had completely set, and the surroundings were already wrapped in the veil of night. Lanterns and stalls lit up the shrine grounds, filling the night air with a festive heat different from the daytime.

The sound of the Bon Odori drums echoed from afar, vibrating deep in the gut. Drawn by the lights of the stalls, a crowd in yukatas flowed slowly toward the shrine. Amidst the bustle, a large man wearing a twisted headband and a light blue happi coat spotted his nephew and raised a hand.

Yamato was breathing heavily, as if the resonance of the drums he had just finished playing still lingered in his body. Sweat dripped from his forehead to his chin, and his chest hair was damply plastered to his skin.