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All Akito wanted to gain from a summer of scooping ice cream at the unfortunately-named Creamy Cow was ripped arms and money towards a badass motorcycle he saw in a shop window. His job description did not contain anything regarding an entire ice cream hierarchy and some sort of revolution to become the next biggest sundae savant of the summer.
So here he is in mid-July, the only average guy in the whole Shibuya ice cream industry who wants nothing to do with all of this bullshit; sweat is sticking his eye-searingly pink uniform to his back, and he’s holding an ice cream scooper like it’s a mace that he’s going to bludgeon Shiraishi An to death with if she brings up the saffron pistachio scoop at Sundae Weekend one more time.
“Man… that saffron pistachio scoop at Sundae Weekend,” An sighs dreamily, and it’s really a shame that things have to end like this. He’s adjusting his grip on the scooper and considering the best way to kill her when an offensive gust of hot air breezes in through the door and he looks up and meets the eyes of the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.
He has soft dual-toned hair the color of Blueberry Bonanza, eyes akin to the pale shade of Black Sesame Bash, and skin like Peaches and Cream, dotted with beauty marks like chocolate chips… The ice cream cult is taking over Akito like the symbiote. He needs to get the hell out of this place.
An’s lips are moving, but Akito tunes her out in favor of watching this guy sit down at a table and pull out a notebook as though he’s a pretentious writer aiming to glean ideas from looking at all the inspiring concrete surfaces outside the window. His presence is a double-edged sword, because while he’s incredibly attractive, he also singlehandedly kicked the temperature up a few degrees. Akito tugs at his starchy collar and licks his dry lips and wishes to be free of this mortal prison.
“Listen to me, Akito,” An says seriously, which makes him want to listen even less. “Hardly anyone my age is into this sort of thing.” Maybe because you’re crazy. “I need a partner. Please.”
For the past month of his employment at Creamy Cow (the worst possible name anyone could have picked), this bizarre girl with star clips in her hair and an abundance of ice-cream-themed crop tops in her wardrobe has been talking about this event that happened when she was in middle school. Sundae Weekend, a community ice cream festival that brought people from all around Japan to sell their scoops and blow everyone away with apparently life-changing flavors. She tasted a single sample of saffron-pistachio, the last bit the vendor had left, and her heart started racing so fast she knew she needed to become an ice cream maker, just to put on a festival better than that one someday.
Her dad organized the whole thing. The people around here call him The Cone King, because Akito tripped and fell into some sort of deranged fantasy fever dream (from which he has yet to wake up) where everyone thinks that’s a normal title for a person to have.
She can’t chase her dairy dreams alone, though—or at least she seems to think so. Most people around town have the same goal of surpassing Sundae Weekend, and they all get into partnerships or groups each year to enter the annual Cone Contest. An has never found one and thus is growing desperate.
“I said no,” Akito says, using his collar to fan himself. His eyes drift back to the guy who just walked in. “Yo, you gonna order anything?”
“Oh,” he says, and his voice is like a cool wind cutting through the 39-degree heat, soft and refreshing and perfect. “Yeah, I will. I’ll just look at the flavors for a moment.”
He stands up and comes over next to An, perusing the labels tacked onto the glass. Akito studies him hard enough to deserve an A+. An looks at him and snickers, and he brandishes his scooper-bludgeon threateningly enough to shut her up in an instant.
“I’ll have one scoop of the Espresso Extravaganza, please. In a cup,” the guy tells him, and Akito has never heard anyone say one of the stupid flavor names with such dignity. If he and this guy made out and the guy decided to whisper “Tutti Frutti” between sloppy kisses, it wouldn’t even ruin the mood.
“Coming right up.” Akito probably looks like a sweat-drenched mess, but the least he can do is roll his cow-patterned sleeves up farther to display the results of a solid month scooping the unreasonably rock-hard ice cream this place has. He achieves a perfectly circular scoop of the guy’s chosen flavor and drops it in a cup, then sticks a spoon in and slides it across the counter. “There you are.”
“You look really hot,” the guy says, and Akito, who had bent over to close the Espresso Extravaganza container, jolts upright and smacks his head so hard on the glass a jar of sprinkles falls over and shatters. Wincing and holding a hand to his head and cursing himself because he’s going to have to pick up every last sprinkle, he lamely says, “Huh?”
“Uh…” The guy looks down at the sprinkles, a conflicted expression on his face like he’s not sure whether he should offer to help clean them up. “I meant, it’s an ice cream place, and you’re drenched in sweat. Shouldn’t it be freezing in here?”
An can barely restrain her laughter. Akito watches his sad, uneventful life flash before his eyes and feels all 39 degrees of the air’s temperature go straight to his cheeks. The guy looks innocently down at him.
“The AC broke,” he says miserably.
“Is the ice cream safe to eat?”
“Well, the freezers are cold.”
“Okay,” the guy says, then hands him a few hundred yen. “Thank you for the ice cream.”
He bows deeply, almost slips on the spilled sprinkles, and hurriedly walks out the door.
“I’m going to bludgeon myself to death with this ice cream scoop,” Akito says.
“Oh, so you got the hots for Touya, huh?” An asks, propping her chin in her hand and giving him a shit-eating grin.
“Touya?” Akito grabs one of the sample spoons and digs it into Strawberry Cheesecake Swirl, which is one of the only bits of enjoyment left in these dark times. Sticking it in his mouth and letting the rich flavors melt on his tongue, he says, “You know that guy?”
“Yup! He’s the son of a famous chocolatier. I think the guy lives in Paris now, ’cause all chocolatiers sorta gravitate there like fruit flies to vinegar. Rumor has it Touya’s trying to go down the ice cream path instead, and…” An taps the glass coming between her and her beloved Rum Raisin Rush. “Gimme a sample of that one. Anyway, he’s got his eye on the annual Vivid Street natsumatsuri ice cream contest.”
“You already know what it tastes like,” Akito grumbles, giving her a sample spoon anyway. “So he’ll be hanging around town a lot?”
“Oh, for sure.” An suddenly gasps, and Akito freezes in a situationally-appropriate way. She’s got an idea, and that’s never good.
An grips the sticky counter and leans forward eagerly, staring into his soul with an unnerving look in her Caramel Swirl eyes. “If you team up with me to surpass Sundae Weekend, I’ll get you a date with Touya.”
A bead of sweat rolls down Akito’s face, and distantly, he thinks that he should be paid more than minimum wage for this nightmare of a job.
“Deal,” he says before he even realizes what’s coming out of his mouth.
An’s thin eyebrows shoot up. “Really? I love you. Holy cow.”
(He wonders whether that phrasing was intentional, and also whether it’s considered sacrilege on the premises.)
“I need to make a second first impression,” he says weakly. “I’m only helping you with the contest this year, though. Not anything after that. If we win, I’ll pick up money for—”
“Your baby, I know,” An says with profound exasperation, dismissively waving her hand as if she doesn’t talk about ice cream seventeen times the amount he talks about the motorcycle. “Yeah, whatever. I’d prefer if you were doing it out of passion for ice cream, but this is fine too. Okay, you start tomorrow.”
He gets an aggressive war flashback to the time his boss told him that same thing. Oh, he was an innocent soul in May, unaware of how much this job was about to ruin his life. “What the hell am I even supposed to do?”
“I’ll text you instructions,” An says, and Akito's never been more sure that this is a cult. It’s a cult, and he’s initiating himself just so he has a chance to see some really hot guy again. He thought he was saying goodbye to his sanity, but he’s probably saying goodbye to his free will too. “Can I have another sample of rum raisin?”
xxx-xxx-xxx: OKOKOKOK so.
akito: how did you get my contact information.
xxx-xxx-xxx: this is irrelevant
shithead: anyway your first instruction is to go around the town and check out all the ice cream shops. peep the competition. taste test. learn what this community stands for
akito: what does that mean.
shithead: trust me.
akito: why would i do that
(shithead removed themself from the conversation.)
Akito stares at his screen in disbelief. That wasn’t a group chat. There is no possible way she could have removed herself from a one-on-one conversation.
“This girl is crazy,” he mutters aloud, being only slightly careful not to crush the phone with his scooper strength.
“Crazy Cookie Crumble, you mean!” says his manager, the world’s most insufferable man (who needs no introduction, as he will surely introduce himself shortly), plunking one of those stupid ice cream store hats onto Akito’s sweat-damp head. “Get into the spirit!”
“There are probably more physical spirits in here than metaphorical ones.”
“Aww… they keep coming back after their deaths,” his manager says, dramatically pressing a hand to his chest. “Returning for Tenma Tsukasa’s fantabulous ice cream, that is!” Aaand there’s the introduction.
“You don’t even make the ice crea—”
“So, what girl? Are you having relationship issues?” Tsukasa props his elbows on the counter and leans so far into Akito’s personal space he considers filing for a restraining order. The guy smells like someone shoved sugar cookie mix and Bath & Body Works lotion into a blender, poured in about two cups of Axe body spray, and hit blend. Akito coughs impolitely.
“No,” he says as the eyes of every girl in the store turn to him, ready to strike on their prey. “It’s just An.”
The girls all turn back around, except for one, who comes up smiling and blinking her doe eyes up at him and asking, “Can I have a sample of Love Potion?”
“No,” Akito says again.
Tsukasa gasps, affronted. “You cannot refuse samples to the customers! What sort of an impression do you want people to have of this store?”
Akito wipes his brow and gives Tsukasa his best thousand-yard stare.
The bell jingles, and Akito tries to speedrun the mental preparation required for having to deal with another girl who’s, for some reason, really into the whole sweaty-delinquent thing. “Welcome to—”
“Did you forget the name of the store?” Tsukasa asks with genuine concern, and Akito can’t even fire back a retort because he is staring at Touya.
“Hello,” Touya says, tucking a lock of fine blue hair behind his ear. Akito swallows hard. “Can I get a scoop of Almond Fudge Festival?”
“Sure thing,” he says, then mentally kicks himself because nobody fucking says that. He fumbles for the scooper and gives him the biggest scoop he can legally sell, putting it in a cup again and handing it to him. Their fingers brush when he takes it, sending zips of electricity all the way up through Akito’s hand.
Tsukasa suddenly gasps. “It’s you!”
Touya’s expression is akin to that of a deer under stage lights. “Wh-what?”
“The one who’s trying to steal our recipes,” Tsukasa says, clutching his chest like Touya murdered his beloved. “You’re putting shame to Vivid Street!”
“I just want to enter the contest,” Touya says sadly, pushing his ice cream back like he doesn’t have the right to eat it. Akito gives it back to him and glares at Tsukasa. “What the hell are you…”
“Ah! Wonderful idea. An said you were entering the contest with her, right, Akito?” Tsukasa smiles warmly. “You can add Touya to your team to ensure he doesn’t get into trouble!”
That’s a terrible idea. That’s a really, really terrible idea. “What?”
“Great! Now go and talk out the logistics.” Tsukasa pushes Akito towards the door and shoots him an overexaggerated, fate-sealing wink.
Akito awkwardly follows Touya out and sits down at one of the outdoor tables. “Listen, I’m sorry about my manager. I’m pretty sure he’s on drugs, except, like, it’s just theatre kid pills. Drama injections. He snorts the dust that collects on the stage when people aren’t using it. I dunno.”
Touya sits across from him, ice cream cup in hand. “It’s alright. I just got a little startled.”
“I know you’re not trying to steal any recipes,” Akito continues. “He’s just mentally unstable. I’ll go tell him to leave you alo—”
“I was trying to steal the recipes.”
Akito squints at him. “…What?”
Touya stares into his ice cream. It starts dripping down the side of the cup and trickles down his hand, and Akito has to forcibly tear his eyes away from him as he licks it off. “I haven’t been able to come up with my own. For the contest. I have the innate ability to identify every ingredient in any dessert just by tasting it, so I’ve been replicating recipes from different stores. I was going to tweak the final product before actually entering, but I understand that what I’ve been doing is still wrong.”
This really hot guy is actually an ice cream espionage agent. Akito can’t have shit. No one else in this entire town is sane. “Oooookay.”
“I’m sorry.” He taps his fingers on his ice cream cup. “If you really did want to team up with me, I could learn from you and stop stealing.”
Akito weighs his options here. He could leave Freakshow Land, or spend more time with Touya, even if he is… one of Them. He could have another person to talk to while working on the contest instead of just An… yeah, that’s the kicker. “I’ll do it. But be warned, I don’t know much more about ice cream than you do.”
“Alright. Thank you for the opportunity.” Touya smiles softly, which makes Akito choke on his own spit.
“Are you okay?!” Touya exclaims as Akito coughs and sputters and hopes he won’t become the next spirit to haunt Creamy Cow. Not because he’d be mad about asphyxiating, but because he’d be mad about haunting this store of all places.
“Oh! Hey, Touya,” An says when the two of them show up at the location she texted Akito. It’s a random alley in the middle of town and he’s pretty sure she just chose it to be mysterious. “What are you doing here?”
“My manager told him to team up with me,” Akito says, sparing her the details. “’S that cool with you?”
An looks between the two of them, squinting as she thinks, then throws an arm around Akito’s shoulders and walks him away from Touya. “Lemme talk to you for a second.”
“Gonna regale me with the joys of Sundae Weekend again?”
“No. Listen. I was going to get you a date with him if you helped me. If you’re already hanging out with him, you won’t leave my team, right?” There’s a worried tone in her voice; he wonders whether she actually wants him as a partner or just needs someone to fill the ice-cream-shaped void in her soul.
“I won’t,” he says. “I promised. ’Sides, I need the money.”
“Oh, okay,” she says, smiling. “Good. That’s all.”
She tries dragging him back. He ducks under her arm because he is, in fact, capable of walking on his own.
“Guys,” An says, clapping her hands together, “You both know how the contest works, right?”
“No,” Akito says at the same time as Touya says, “Yes.”
“Okay, so, since someone here has been living in ignorance, you have to invent four ice cream flavors, preferably ones that fit a theme or culture or vibe, and design a mini ice cream stand. The stand itself will be provided, but you gotta name it and decorate it and make it yours. You’ll be judged on how it looks, how creative you are, how professional you are, and obviously, how your cream tastes.”
“Dear God, please don’t coin that as a slang term for ‘ice cream’.”
“Look, I didn’t process what I was saying. Anyway, today we’re going to do a flavor tour! We’re checking out all the nearby ice cream places that pop up every summer, testing a few of their scoops, scoping out who’s the strongest competition and who we want to take inspiration from and stuff. Sound good?”
“I really think you missed the opportunity to say ‘scooping out’ instead,” Touya says.
“I like this guy,” An tells Akito, who is already in a fierce mental debate on whether he he has terrible taste in men. After a convincing argument by the right side of his brain, he decides the quirks add to Touya’s charm. Then again, Touya is so attractive that he could be in an underground contraband ring and Akito’s brain would probably settle on it being a quirk that adds to his charm. The heat is frying his brain.
“Off to the first shop,” An singsongs, linking arms with both of them and marching on through the scorching streets.
The first shop in question is called Slammin’ Scoops, which would only be an appropriate name if the employees actually slammed the ice cream into the cups. (Honestly, that would be entertaining to see.) An holds the door open for them like a proper gentleman, and the first thing Akito sees is the uniforms.
They’re exactly like his, but without the cow pattern accents, and they’re blue. Blue. He’s kicking himself. He managed to apply to the only ice cream shop around here with pink uniforms? Why did he even try for something called Creamy Cow? He was asking for it. This is all his fault.
I’m doing this for the motorcycle…
“I’ll have the Slammin’ Special,” says a girl at the counter.
“Oh, sure.” One of the blue-clad employees gets a scoop of bubblegum ice cream, then positions the cup in front of him, raises the scooper, and brings it down with incredible force, making the scoop hit the cup with a mighty smack.
“I have seen it all,” Akito says, staring in disbelief.
“No, you haven’t,” An says. “We haven’t even gone to Saucy Sundaes yet.”
“…What do you mean?”
An goes up to the counter to order samples.
“What do you mean?”
They each try a sample of a different flavor at Slammin’ Scoops. Akito says his is really good. An says hers is absolutely exquisite, with multiple layers to the flavor profile and an almost icy feel that normally doesn’t work but was executed excellently. Akito says she should cut back on the ex- prefix, and also that he does not belong here. Touya lists all of the ingredients perfectly, down to the artificial colorings used. Akito is scared.
Next up is Dazzling Dairy Dreams, and based on the name, Akito assumes it’s going to be a pastel wonderland of fluffy milkshakes and cutesy outfits—the sort of place he normally wouldn’t be caught dead in. The outside matches this description, so when he walks in and is greeted by black walls, death metal playing on the speakers, and employees in leather jackets and skinny jeans, he feels like he’s experienced the world’s strongest culture shock.
“This isn’t fair,” he says, feeling naked and/or humiliated in his Pink Uniform Of Shame. “Look. They get to wear normal-ass clothes. This isn’t fair.”
“Harukaaaa,” An says, going up and doing a complicated handshake with the blue-haired girl behind the counter. She must be a much more experienced ice cream scooper than Akito is, because her arms put Akito’s to shame. Their eyes meet, and Akito feels obligated to bow out of respect.
“Are you showing some new people around?” Haruka asks, looking at Akito and Touya. “That’s great! I’ll get you guys some samples.”
Ironically, their ice cream comes only in pastel shades, and tastes like a dream come true. Akito asks Haruka if they have any job openings, and An says that betraying one’s home ice cream shop is a sin worse than death, which puts an end to that idea pretty fast.
“If it helps,” Touya says monotonely as they leave the store, “I think you look good in pink.”
As Akito feels his face turn the same shade, he decides he’s never complaining about his uniform again.
“Pack it up, guys,” An says. “The only hormone that should be involved in today’s events is the naturally-released estrogen that’s usually present in cow milk.”
“I’m going to drown you in a river like a kangaroo,” Akito says conversationally.
After checking out a few more stores while An tells them all about the culture and community of Vivid Street—and just how important this annual contest is to everyone here, so it’s not stupid, Akito, stop biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing, every town is famous for something and that’s what ours is—she tells them to get thinking about what flavor they want to make for the contest, since she has to go back to her own cafe for her shift. This leaves Akito and Touya alone again, which makes Akito feel spectacularly awkward.
“So, uh,” he says, rubbing his neck, “why are you so into the contest? You didn’t really seem to love any of the samples we tried, and you said you don’t have anything you wanna buy with the prize money, so…”
“I just like this place.” The hot wind rustles Touya’s hair as he looks out at the horizon, and Akito, amidst his admiring, realizes the guy hasn’t looked sweaty at all today. Maybe one of the products in his contraband ring disables people’s sweat glands. This is unfair. “I’d feel bad getting into my whole life story, but… everyone I’ve grown up around is very refined and elegant and stuffy, and they expect me to be the same. I never wanted to be a chocolatier. So when I heard about this contest, and how everyone in the town just gets to have fun as a community and make what they want, I thought it sounded nice.” He laughs softly. “I don’t even like ice cream.”
“You don’t even like…” Akito stops walking. “You don’t like ice cream.”
He shakes his head. “Or anything else that’s sweet.”
This guy is an enigma. “So you’re just doing it for fun? You’re not like all the other overly dedicated psychos around here?”
“No. Just for fun.”
Okay, Akito takes back everything he’s ever thought about him. “Thank God.”
“There’s something rather charming about how dedicated everyone is to this town’s culture. I wish I could be passionate about something like that.” He smiles at Akito, who trips over his own feet. The guy has got to stop doing that out of the blue. He needs exposure therapy to get used to that smile on his usually-neutral face. “What about you? Is there anything you’re passionate about?”
“I’m a soccer guy,” Akito says after recovering. “Have been since I was a kid. We’ve got training most days, so I’ve been cramming in shifts at the—” He doesn’t wanna say that out loud. “—At the ice cream shop whenever I can. Need the money.”
“Ah,” Touya says, nodding. “I was right. You look like you play sports.”
Akito blushes at the implications. “The Kamikou Wolves are a pretty good team. You should, uh, watch us play sometime.”
Touya hums idly. “Maybe I will. What do you need the money for?”
Oh, they’re right next to the shop. Akito speeds up, and Touya follows him; a moment later, he comes to a stop in front of the most beautiful motorcycle ever made, sleek and black with red and orange flames racing up the sides. “Behold. My baby.”
“Your baby?” Touya asks in genuine confusion, looking around. Akito grabs his really nice shoulders and steers him towards the window, and he says, “Ohhh. I see. It’s very cool.”
“It’s freedom,” Akito says. “Once I get my hands on that thing, I’m drivin’ outta this town and never comin’ back.”
“I’m open!”
Somehow, Akito minds the oppressive heat less when he’s out on the field. With the sun blazing overhead and the scent of fresh grass sharp in his nostrils, he feels alive, and he’s going to savor that feeling before it’s inevitably sucked out of him at the… bovine-themed store later. He dashes towards the opposing goal, holding a hand up, and when the ball is sent over to him, he lines his foot up perfectly and kicks it straight into the goal, too fast for the goalie to catch.
Their coach blows his whistle, signaling the end of the practice match.
“Alright!” says Shouta, the teammate who kicked him the ball at the end, coming over and high-fiving Akito. “You were great.”
Akito grins. “Thanks, man. You too.”
He catches something blue out of the corner of his eye and glances up; there’s Touya, standing at the gate, watching intently.
“Oohhh,” one of his other teammates says, jostling his shoulder. “Someone’s blushing. Who’s that over there? Guy from the volleyball team? I know you had it bad for, like, two guys on the volleyball team this year.”
“Shut the fuck up, Masuo,” he says lightly, then jogs over to Touya, hoping he doesn’t look too sweat-drenched and disheveled. “Hey. You came to watch?”
“Actually, I came to say that An wants us to meet up and start creating flavors at her cafe today.” He holds up his phone, open to the messages app, and Akito’s heart drops like it got Slammin’-Special’d.
“Oh,” he says, scratching at his cheek. “Well… yeah, I can do that. Let her know I’ll be free after three p.m.”
“Okay,” Touya says, and turns to leave, then pauses. “I know nothing about soccer, but you looked very cool.”
Akito bites his lip to stop a dopey grin from taking over his face. “Thanks.”
Touya runs off awkwardly, the sort of run you do when a driver stops to let you cross the street. It’s stupidly endearing.
“Guy from the volleyball team?” comes the smug voice behind him.
“If you don’t want a kick in the volleyballs, I’d suggest running.”
“Okay! It’s flavor testing time. We’ll go simple for now, but if we think of anything outside the box, we can go hunting for ingredients around town.”
Akito stares at the spread of bowls An has prepared and set on the bar counter at her dad’s cafe, Weekend Garage, filled with a variety of mix-ins like fruit, chocolate chips, nuts, hot caramel and fudge, pieces of candy bars, and chunks of brownies and cheesecake. It’s like a diabetes tasting menu. Akito is in love.
“I don’t understand,” Touya says.
“You mix them into the ice cream,” An says.
“No, I don’t understand why you need a team. Isn’t this a very simple thing to do? You already prepped the vanilla base beforehand as well, so I feel like you’re perfectly capable of doing this on your own.”
“Well.” An idly taps her fingers on the counter. “It’s easier to split the work, especially at the actual festival, when you’re selling the ice cream to people. And it’s just more fun to have someone to bounce ideas off of and test flavors with. Everyone has a partner or a team. That’s just how it is. I can’t mess with nature.”
“If nature is plants, and ice cream is nature, does this mean that by An logic, ice cream is healthy?” Akito asks, grabbing the bowl of cheesecake bites and shoving a handful into his mouth.
“Those are for the ice cream!” An exclaims, lunging for the bowl. He holds it above her head, and she trips and falls; Touya dives in to catch her in a gentlemanly fashion, only to go crashing down with her and splat on the ground like every cartoon character’s ice cream cone when they see something mindblowing.
“Are you okay?” Akito asks, holding a hand out to Touya, who gratefully takes it. An stares up at him, the betrayal on her face more palpable than the divine journey Akito’s soul went on after tasting the cheesecake.
“I need a new partner,” she says with all the bitterness of a poorly-crafted scoop of Espresso Extravaganza.
The door to Weekend Garage opens, and in walks the cutest girl Akito’s ever seen, with hair the color of Butter Pecan Blast, eyes the color of—yeah, he’s not doing this again. She’s blonde and has pale brown eyes. And is somehow walking in actual slo-mo.
An swings over the counter in a ridiculously cool way and starts running towards her, also in slo-mo. Akito rubs his eyes, but nothing changes.
“Are you seeing this?” he asks Touya in borderline horror.
“What’s wrong with it?” Touya asks, tilting his head.
“Hello,” says the girl, shyly looking up at An. “I tasted your ice cream here yesterday and wanted to come back and tell you personally that it’s my new favorite dessert.”
“Oh my God,” An says, grabbing the girl’s hands. “Marry me.”
Honestly, saying something like that to An is the equivalent of a marriage proposal. This poor girl doesn’t know what she’s getting into, and her voice rises upwards anxiously as she says, “What?”
“Oh, I said dairy free. Sorry.”
“I don’t know why you would have said that, but it’s okay. Please go on.”
Shoujo bubbles are filling the air. Maybe from the sunlight streaming in through the windows, which is also falling perfectly on them and making them look like they’re glowing.
“What the hell,” Akito says through a mouthful of cheesecake bites.
“This is so sweet,” Touya says, putting a hand to his chest.
“Help me surpass Sundae Weekend,” An says, smiling, “and I’ll make all your dreams come true!”
“I’ll do it!” the girl exclaims. “What’s Sundae Weekend?”
An starts excitedly talking to her, moving over to one of the booths in the cafe to explain, and Akito says, “Well. We lost An. Think we can use all of her ice cream supplies, or does she get custody over them in the divorce?”
“I think we all have heat sickness,” Touya says.
The next two weeks are a whirl of soccer practice, new flavor combinations (Akito thinks he really hit a winner with Triple Cheesecake Swirl. Touya says this is an unethical amount of cheesecake), ideas for stand names (the best Akito’s got is Fantasista Flavors, since it’s a soccer thing, but Touya says something about the name gives him an ominous feeling he can’t explain), An coming into That One Cow Place to tell Akito all about her new partner Kohane who is the most wonderful special beautiful amazing ice cream maker in the world, and Akito trying not to make a fool of himself in front of Touya, who’s started to open up and smile more around him.
He learns that Touya’s favorite food is cookies, and he mostly listens to video game soundtracks, and he’s a big fan of arcades and mystery novels and dogs and plushies. Akito invites him to the arcade near his store one day after work, to “get out of the heat”, and Touya turns out to be a literal god at the claw machines.
“For you,” he says after manipulating the fabric of spacetime to actually get the rigged claw to give him a prize (there’s no other explanation as to how he does it), handing Akito a cow plushie.
“Wow,” he says, staring into its haunting eyes. “Thanks.”
Touya takes it back and swaps it with a ridiculously soft wolf plushie. Their hands touch. Akito swallows hard. “I’m kidding. Here—because of your soccer team.”
Akito might actually die. “Uh—thanks, man,” he stammers. “You’re really good at this stuff. You looked like you were, like, solving algebraic equations to figure out where to position the claw over there.”
“Oh, I was. I’ve gotten pretty quick at doing it.”
Akito stares at him and realizes he’s falling in love.
He has trouble sleeping that night; he just feels uneasy. Maybe because it’s too hot out, or because maybe Tsukasa poisoned him, or because he can’t stop thinking about Touya. He gets up and grabs the wolf plushie Touya got him, which he had planned on storing away somewhere no one would find it, and lays back down, holding onto it. It’s comforting.
He sleeps with it every night after that.
Touya comes to watch him practice nearly every morning, and they walk to The Cow Joint together. Touya still doesn’t have any interest in getting a job, but he brings a book and reads at his favorite table in the corner of the store and makes Akito’s shifts a thousand times less miserable, because he can stare at him and hope to absorb his serene energy as Tsukasa yells in his ears about musicals and feminism.
He’s doing this for the motorcycle. He’s doing this for the motorcycle.
“Are you gonna ask him out sometime soon?” An asks in a low voice, because Touya’s sitting in the corner again. “I know we ended our partnership pretty fast, but technically you tried to help me win the contest, so I could still set the two of you up for something. Give you a little push!”
“Thanks, but I think I’ve got it,” he says.
“Yesterday you said you were going to ask him out and when you called him over to the counter you got so nervous you literally had to go throw up.”
“I said I think I’ve got it. And please never bring that up again.” He has trauma from the bathroom here now. Cheerful ice-cream-holding cows are painted all over the walls and ceiling, and it felt like they were intensely judging him as he sat on the floor hunched over the toilet.
“Hmmm. Well, okay, if you’re sure. Can I have a sample of rum raisin?”
He hands over the goods. “I dunno, An. What if he’s straight?”
An glances over at Touya. A girl walks into the store, and when she stops near Touya to look at the flavors over there, he tells her, “Your shoes are so cute.”
“Oh, thanks! I love your eyeshadow.”
He tucks a lock of hair behind his ear and smiles at her. “Thank you.”
An turns back around and says, in a tone so exasperated you’d think she was the one having to listen to her coworker belt The Greatest Showman soundtrack all day long, “Akito.”
The contest is rapidly approaching, and Akito and Touya, no longer under An’s strict regime, have been spending most of their time doing things completely unrelated to the contest. Finally, during one shift, Touya comes to the counter and says, “Tonight, we should put some more flavors together and work on the stand. I really would like to make a good effort to win.”
“Haven’t you been brainstorming?” Akito asks, nodding towards the notebook sitting open on Touya’s favorite table.
“I have. I’ve got a few pages of potential flavors.” His smile is dazzling. “Hopefully at least one of them will work.”
Akito’s about to respond when yet another girl comes up next to Touya, twirling her Strawberry Sunset Serenade ponytail around her finger and leaning on the counter. “Hey, Shinonome-kun.”
Umeko’s her name, he’s pretty sure. She’s in the girls’ soccer club, so they’ve seen each other a handful of times. “Hey?”
“What are you doing later?” she asks, propping her chin in her hand. “I need to practice with somebody, but all my friends are busy.”
“I’ve got plans,” he says. “Sorry.”
Umeko’s eager expression fades, and she sighs. “Alright. Offer’s always open.”
She walks out of the store, sending the door’s fuckass cowbell jingling in her wake, and Touya looks in the direction she went for a moment before turning back to Akito. “Girls come in and ask you stuff like that a lot, don’t they?”
“Ugh. Yeah,” he says, wiping sweat from his brow again. He’s melting faster than the poor container of Mayo Magic, which was put over the part of the freezer that doesn’t really stay cold because literally nobody wants mayonnaise-infused ice cream. “A handful of guys from the other sports teams, too. They all see some decent-looking dude with a decent build and decide to waste their whole summer chasing after ’im.”
“No need to be modest. You’re much more than decent in both of those areas,” Touya says, and Akito busies himself cleaning a chocolate sauce spill on the counter opposite from himself so Touya can’t see his blush. “That’s why they're after you.”
“Well, I don’t want any of them,” he mutters. “I don’t need a summer romance. I need a motorcycle.”
“Oh,” Touya says, then, after a pause, “I hope we win the contest.”
“Me too. So, my place? Like, seven p.m.?” When Touya doesn’t respond, Akito turns and discovers that Touya has quietly left the store.
Touya may be neutral-faced most of the time, but he’s doing a pretty bad job at hiding his emotions right now, as Akito judgmentally peers at him over the bowl of ice cream he’s folding shredded ginger and his parents’ sake into. (Look, he’s trying to come up with something.)
“Okay, you’ve been sulking long enough,” Akito says. “Spill.”
“You’re going to go to jail,” Touya says breathlessly, tugging on his hair and staring at the sake.
“Relax, I’m not gonna get drunk off of it.” God knows he could use a drink, though. He pops the top off the bottle and takes a few sips. Ahhh… tastes like his life in four years when he inevitably becomes an alcoholic upon reaching legal drinking age.
“Akito!” Touya exclaims, scandalized.
“It’s fine.” He puts the sake back in the fridge and returns to his ice cream; they’re using small portions of the vanilla base to experiment with all of their flavor combos, then freezing them in batches before taste-testing them. “This could be a winner. Now, seriously, what’s your deal?”
“It’s nothing,” Touya murmurs, looking down at his own current test—cherry almond, which seems promising. “I’ll tell you later. I don’t want to ruin the mood.”
Akito frowns, but doesn’t push him further for now.
The ginger sake ice cream turns out to be delicious. Touya decides his simple yet effective combination of raspberry and coffee might be good enough to enter the contest with. Akito has too many options and considers returning to Triple Cheesecake Swirl to avoid deciding. Touya once again calls this an abomination and says he likes Akito’s dark chocolate cayenne creation the best, which… definitely sways Akito’s opinions a little.
So here they are a few hours later, walking down the road in the pleasantly warm summer night, stars watching over them as they stand just far enough apart that their hands won’t bump into each other’s as they move. Since they’ll arrive at Touya’s house pretty soon, Akito decides he needs to ask what the problem is.
“Can you talk now?” he asks carefully.
Touya comes to a stop, staring at the ground, and Akito backs up to stand next to him. “It’s just… sorry, I’m not sure how to put this. The past month has been one of the best in my entire life.”
That’s interesting, because with each passing week, Akito feels like he’s descending into the next circle of hell.
“And then what you said earlier… I…” Touya shakes his head and finally looks up. God, his eyes are pretty. Like silver diamonds. Hey, he’s healing from the teachings of the ice cream cult! “We’re only friends because of the contest, aren’t we? Are we going to go our separate ways after?”
Akito’s heart drops at the thought, and he grabs Touya’s shoulders. “Shit, dude, that’s not what I meant. You’re the only reason I haven’t gone insane. I’d… yeah, I’d like to spend more time with you afterwards.”
Ask him out, Akito, says his inner voice. This is the perfect chance. Say there’s a new movie that you wanna go see with him, or you wanna take him out to eat somewhere that doesn’t serve frozen treats, or you wanna go to the beach for reasons entirely unrelated to seeing him with his shirt off, or—
“Really?” Touya says, then breathes a sigh of relief. “Okay. Thank you for clearing that up. I like being your friend, and I don’t want anything to change that.”
Aaaand all the air gets sucked out of him like someone pressed an industrial-size vacuum hose to his mouth.
“Yeah,” he says weakly, suddenly feeling like he might throw up again—although the memory of the bathroom cows is enough to curb the nausea. “Me neither.”
He’s doing this for the motorcycle. Only the motorcycle.
After all, he said it himself—he doesn’t need a summer romance.
“I haven’t seen you talking to Aoyagi-kun at all,” Kohane says, sipping at her peach milkshake. Akito’s not really sure how he’s become friends with her over the past few weeks. She just sort of spawned and has been a natural part of his Hell Schedule (wake up, go to soccer practice, get on the grind for the cow cult, hang out with Touya, go home and question his life decisions and then have uncomfortable fever-style dreams about ice cream and Aoyagi Touya that make him wake up drenched in cold sweat for no discernible reason) ever since. “Are you two fighting?”
“Not really,” he says. It’s lonely in here without him reading in the corner; he said he has some business to attend to today, but who knows if he actually meant that?
“Not really?” she asks gently.
Akito tears a hand through his hair—a gesture that would have been more effective if his hair was as fluffy as normal and not currently plastered to his forehead—and sighs. “He totally friendzoned me.”
Kohane puts her hands to her cheeks and opens her mouth in a perfect O, unintentionally doing a perfect modern interpretation of that one painting of the guy screaming or whatever. Akito sucks ass at humanities. “He did?”
“Yeah.” Akito grabs the whipped cream canister from the back counter and swirls more on top of the rest of her milkshake because he has nothing better to do. “Now I feel bad for being so whipped when all he wants is to be friends with me. So I’ve been kinda avoidin’ him.”
“I think,” she says, dipping her finger in the whipped cream and licking it off, “maybe you should keep trying. You have a really cute smile. It could probably win him over eventually.”
“My smile is not cute.”
Kohane nibbles on her straw. “Hmm… if you don’t mind, could you try smiling at one of the girls over there?”
Akito gives her an unimpressed stare, then, just to humor her, turns to the trio of girls sitting at Touya’s usual table and flashes his best practiced smile. They immediately turn to each other and start giggling and stage-whispering about which one of them he was looking at.
“I rest my case,” Kohane says.
He doesn’t want to keep trying to ‘win Touya over’ like he’s some sort of cheap prize (it’s a really weird phrase anyway, now that he thinks about it, and oh shit, he’s probably internalizing Tsukasa’s monologues about feminism), but he does try to get over the weirdness he feels about interacting with him, so they more-or-less go back to normal over the week and a half left until the festival. Akito tries to ignore his feelings in favor of just finalizing their flavors and painting the stand and hanging out with him like usual.
Touya decides on cherry-almond and raspberry-coffee as his flavors, and Akito picks the dark chocolate cayenne one and orange-cardamom. They’re going for relatively simple, classy and sophisticated flavors, since Akito is following Touya’s vision more than pursuing his own (which would be bold, bright, colorful, and bursting with flavor.) He mourns the loss of Triple Cheesecake Swirl.
As they’re painting orange and blue stripes on the blank white pop-up stand, Touya suddenly says, “Sunset Scoops. Because the colors are like a sunset over the ocean.”
“Good idea,” Akito says, “because I was going to suggest ‘BAD DOGS’ next.”
Touya tilts his head in that adorable way he does, like a curious animal. “What does that mean?”
Akito rubs his neck and clears his throat and then returns to painting.
“Akito, what does it mean?”
“Look, let’s just go with Sunset Scoops, okay?”
The night of the matsuri falls like Tsukasa’s tears every time Satisfied from Hamilton comes up on his shuffled showtunes playlist. Akito studies himself in the mirror for a minute before he leaves the house; in his fire-red yukata with shimmering gold accents and his hair tied in a loose low ponytail, he actually looks nice for once this summer.
…Damn. Touya’s gonna be in a yukata too.
He hurries over to the part of town where the matsuri is being held, heading through the admittedly beautiful setup of warm lanterns and colorful decorations to get to their ice cream stand. Unfortunately, they’ll have to keep it up until they run out of ice cream, and Touya turned down his smart suggestion of only bringing enough for the judges to have some. (“I thought you wanted money for your motorcycle,” he’d said, and Akito couldn’t argue.)
“Hey.”
At the sound of Touya’s voice, Akito turns around, and what’s supposed to come out as ‘hey’ ends up like ‘heyyyyyyyyyyyyy’ because the way Touya looks shuts off Akito’s brain entirely. His deep purple yukata embroidered with silver and periwinkle flowers looks great, but Akito’s focused on how he’s wearing makeup—Akito doesn’t know much about all that, but he does know that he’s got on purple eyeshadow with little sparkles around his eyes that match the silver of his outfit. His mouth goes dryer than Touya’s texting style.
“You look nice,” Touya says, stepping up behind their ice cream stand and making sure everything is there.
“You look good as hell,” Akito says before he can stop himself, then hurriedly adds, “dude.” Yeah. Nice save, Akito. He gives himself a mental fistbump.
Touya grins. “Thanks. Now, come get ready—the judges could be anyone, so we need to be prepared.”
The beginning of the festival goes smoothly; once Akito gets past the anxiety caused by bumping into Touya every few minutes as they work in the small space, things are easy. Dozens of people come to try their ice cream, any of which could be the ones deciding whether Akito will get to buy his motorcycle, and both of them listen to the traditional music playing throughout the town and simply enjoy being with each other even though they’re not saying much.
“This town should be famous for music instead,” Akito says at one point. “That would be more fun. I could get behind that.”
Touya hums noncommittally. “I can’t imagine what that would be like.”
After about an hour, they’ve sold all their ice cream, and while Akito is stretching like he’s just worked a grueling ten-hour shift, Touya asks, “Would you like to go around the festival with me? We have quite a bit of time until the contest results are announced, so I thought it would be fun to check out all the stalls.”
Akito feels his cheeks get hot for literally no reason. This isn’t a date. “’Course.”
“Okay.” Touya’s face lights up. Akito’s stomach flips. “I’m just going to go get something. Wait here.”
He runs off in that awkward way he always does, and Akito rests his elbows on the counter and flops his face into his hands.
“Hey, loverboy.”
He looks up. “Hey, An. How’d it go?”
“Perfectly! Not to brag, but everyone was raving about our ice cream.” She tosses her shiny star-adorned hair. “We’re on our way to surpassing Sundae Weekend for sure. Kohane had lots of fun, too. How’d it go for you?”
“Pretty well. Everyone seemed to like Touya’s best.” He shrugs. “Not like this is something I wanted to do anyway, so it’s fine.”
She glances back and forth conspiratorially, then asks, “Are you gonna make a move?”
“An, I can’t.”
“Don’t worry, Akito!” She grabs his shoulders and looks him in the eyes seriously. “You put the ‘able’ in ‘insufferable’! You can do anything you put your mind to, even if that’s earning a date with someone who friendzoned you!”
He doesn’t know whether he should feel insulted or touched. He’s about to say she puts the ‘An’ in ‘annoying’, then thank her (since that was pretty nice by An standards), but Touya returns just then and breathlessly asks, “Are you ready?”
They say goodbye to An and start touring the festival, starting from the beginning. Touya immediately stops at one of the dart games, where different toys and plushies are hung as prizes above rows of balloons to pop. “I’m good at these.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” He’s seen him destroy every record at the arcade, after all.
“Which one do you want?” Touya asks, pointing at the prizes.
He doesn’t need any of them, but the gesture is still sweet; his eyes catch on a huge wolf plushie, since it would match with the one he’s been sleeping with since Touya won it, but it would be embarrassing to point it out specifically. “I dunno. You pick.”
Touya searches his eyes for a moment, then pays for three darts and carefully aims his first one. He throws it with a graceful arc of his arm, perfectly hitting the balloon dead-center and popping it.
“Damn,” says the kid running the stand, looking up in surprise. “This is supposed to be rigged. You can pick a small prize, I guess.”
“Hold on,” Touya says, aiming his second one. This one misses, bouncing off the balloon and clattering to the floor, but both Akito and the kid watch with bated breath as he positions the third dart and throws it and—pop!
“A large prize, then,” the kid says, and Touya immediately points to the wolf.
Akito blushes. At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if Touya said he was a mind-reading alien sent from his planet to obtain information about the humans.
“I’m not a mind-reader,” Touya says, which is exactly what a mind-reader would say, as he hands Akito the plushie. “It’s a wolf. It wasn’t hard to figure out.”
This one is somehow even softer than the small one. Since he has no dignity left, he admits to himself that it’s going to be nice to cuddle to sleep. There’s still one problem, though: “Hey, uh… Touya. I don’t really wanna carry this thing around.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” Touya takes it back, adjusting it so he can hold it with one arm. “I’ll be its coparent for now, then. He’ll be our child. What should we name him?”
“…Does he need a name?”
“BAD DOG,” Touya says flatly, and Akito lightly punches his shoulder, making Touya laugh.
“Thanks,” Akito says, his face burning hotter. “For winning that for me.”
Touya beams. “Of course.”
They each play a few rounds of ring toss, where they win keychains for Touya to put on his bag. “Here,” Touya says, giving a cutesy cat one to Akito, “so we match.”
Next, they stop to buy takoyaki and kakigori (which Touya insists on paying for, even though Akito doesn’t want to let him), and they eat it as they watch the parade march through the town with colorful costumes and lively music. This is the most normal night Akito’s had this summer, and he doesn’t want it to end.
Touya’s hand bumps into his near the end of the parade, and Akito quickly moves his own hand away. When he looks up, Touya’s got a forlorn look on his face.
“Hey,” Akito says, finishing the last bite of his kakigori, “The contest results are gonna be announced in a minute, right? Let’s go.”
Akito leads Touya to the matsuri stage, where An’s dad (Akito will not call him The Cone King) is already reading things off of a paper. Shit, hopefully they didn’t miss anything important.
“…We saw a lot of ingenuity tonight,” An’s dad says, looking out at the crowd, “but three stands in particular caught our attention in terms of professionalism, creativity, and flavor. In third place, Teat Treats! Come on up here.”
“I can’t believe it,” Akito whispers to Touya as a few people in the audience start cheering and run up to the stage to stand next to An’s dad. “Someone actually came up with a worse name than Creamy Cow.”
“That’s a lot worse,” Touya agrees, looking mildly concerned.
“In second place… Lick This!”
“I’m starting to feel really grateful for whoever named my shop, actually,” Akito says.
“I told you, it’s all about perspective.”
Oh, damn—first place is all that’s left. They weren’t good enough to win that, right? Akito’s beautiful motorcycle starts fading out of his imagination like his dreams of having a normal life.
Touya lightly grabs Akito’s arm, making him shiver. “Do you think we won?”
“For sure,” he says, but now he’s hoping they didn’t. An has been way more excited about this contest than either of them, and even though she doesn’t particularly need the money, he’d feel really bad if she didn’t even make it into the top three.
“And the winners of the annual Vivid Street Super Summer Sunset Sundae Spectacular”—this guy needs to put the alliteration down—“are Shiraishi An and Azusawa Kohane, with their stand ‘Vivids’!”
“Oh,” Akito says, mentally saying goodbye to the motorcycle. “Good for them. That’s cool. Vivids is a tacky name, though.”
“BAD DOGS,” Touya says simply, which shuts Akito up. He’s never gonna let Akito live that one down, is he?
An’s dad praises his daughter for a second and reassures everyone that this was all of the judges’ decision and he’s not biased, then talks about the girls’ cafe-themed scoops, especially praising the roasted-green-tea-vanilla and lemon poppy seed ones, and mentions how well-designed their stand was, as well as how friendly and responsible An and Kohane were. The girls come up to the stage, and the announcer gives everyone their trophies filled with money. As soon as the mini-ceremony ends, An and Kohane rush over to the guys.
“We won!” An exclaims, holding up her trophy. “Can you believe it?! We really are on our way to surpassing Sundae Weekend!”
“That’s great, An,” Akito says, high-fiving her. “Congrats.”
“I’m sure you guys were amazing, too,” Kohane says, giving them a sympathetic smile. “I’d love to try your flavors sometime.”
“They should’ve disqualified Teat Treats,” An says, and they all wholeheartedly agree.
It’s not a natsumatsuri without fireworks, and these ones are scheduled to start in around five minutes, so Akito and Touya make their way up to the hill with the best viewing spot and sit down on the grass. The loud sounds of the festival are distant up here, and Akito revels in the cool, quiet summer night.
“Well,” he says, glancing over at Touya, “I’m sorry we lost. I know that was pretty important to you.”
“It’s okay.” The wind rustles his silky hair, and he tucks it behind his ear. Akito’s eyes trace his perfect side profile, then return to the pretty eye makeup he has on. “I don’t think winning was ever what mattered to me. I really loved getting to spend the summer with you. The memories are what I would hold onto even if I did get a trophy.”
Akito bumps his shoulder into Touya’s. “I’m glad.”
“I’m just a little sad because you needed the money for your baby,” Touya says, running his fingers along the patterns on his yukata. “If I had just made better flavors… I know they were all simple…”
“Hey, no, don’t put this on yourself. Yours were better than mine, anyway. I’ll figure out a different way to get it. No big deal.” Akito clears his throat. “I, uh… I liked spending the summer with you too.”
Touya smiles at him, and then his eyes go wide. “Oh—I have something to give you.” He rummages through his bag and produces a small box, holding it out to Akito.
“You’ve already given me tons of stuff tonight, though,” Akito says, surprised. He’s almost nervous to open it, but he does, and… “Oh.”
Earrings. Little red-orange gemstones.
“I just saw them in a store the other day and thought they would suit you. They match the motorcycle you want,” Touya says, almost timidly. “If you don’t like them…”
“I love them,” he says immediately. His heart is racing. This would be sweet on its own, but the fact that he took the motorcycle into consideration, too? “I… yeah. Hold on.” He takes out the basic studs he has in right now and replaces them with the new ones. “How do I look?”
“Amazing,” Touya says softly. “Listen, Akito. I need to…”
A firework goes off, and Touya turns back around to watch as bursts of beautiful color start exploding across the sky. Dammit, what was he going to say?!
“They look like sprinkles,” Akito murmurs as dozens of colors fill the midnight canvas. Touya laughs, gentle and breathy and beautiful. Akito wants to kiss him.
“Just watch,” Touya says, so he does. They sit close together in silence, staring at the sky, sharing this beautiful moment.
Summer is ending soon.
When the show comes to an end, cheering and clapping arises from the main festival area, and Akito turns to Touya. “What were you trying to say before, when you got interrupted?”
Touya closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, then opens them again. “Akito. I like you.”
Akito double-takes so hard he feels his brain do a system reboot. “Huh? What? Huh. … What.”
“I like you,” Touya says, firmer this time. “I’ve had a crush on you ever since I watched you looking at your motorcycle in the shop window with that beautiful dreamy expression, and it’s only grown worse as I’ve gotten to know you. I’m aware that you don’t feel the same way, but I just wanted to tell you. I waited until after the contest so that if you’re uncomfortable with me and don’t want to be friends anymore, you don’t have to see me again. I would feel horrible continuing to pretend I only view you as a friend.”
This can’t be real. This actually can’t be real. Akito feels like he’s going to burst into tears. “But you—you said you wanted—you… you told me you didn’t want anything to change us being friends.”
“Because you said you didn’t want a summer romance,” Touya says.
Oh.
Oh.
Akito is a fucking idiot. He’s stupider than whoever named their stand Teat Treats. He’s stupider than the concept of Sundae Weekend. He puts the ‘Akito’ in ‘Absolute Imbecile.’
“Touya,” he says, putting his face in his hands. “Touya. Dude. I’m sorry. I thought you didn’t like me like that. So I didn’t think what I said mattered.”
“Akito, I’ve been flirting with you for the past two months,” Touya says desperately. “Was I doing that bad of a job? I—I gave you gifts… I complimented your appearance… I asked you on a few dates… I tried to hold your hand during the parade but you pulled away… I expressed my distaste for when the girls swooned over you at the store…”
Oh. The wolf plushies. The matching keychain. The takoyaki and kakigori. The earrings. All the times he said Akito looked nice, which Akito thought was just because he was a kind person. The after-school hangouts. The way he came to watch him at most of his soccer practices.
“I’m so stupid,” he says. “Like. Really stupid.”
“So you like me back?” Touya asks hesitantly.
Akito grabs his face and kisses him hard.
Touya’s hands come to rest behind his head as he kisses him back with the same intensity; they get more passionate in a matter of seconds, kakigori-dye-stained tongues mingling as they pull each other even closer. What fireworks? The only ones that matter are the ones going off inside Akito’s chest.
I’m doing this for the motorcycle, he thinks distantly.
“Akito,” Touya breathes two seconds before he leans forward and Akito realizes how close they are to the edge of the hill and they fall backwards.
Oh, shit.
They start tumbling down the hill, crashing into each other at least three times before landing flat on the ground in a heap. Touya bursts out laughing, and the sound is so cute Akito can’t help but smile, even though he’s in pain in fifty different areas and might have broken his arm actually holy crap that hurts.
“What a first kiss,” Touya says, rubbing his head as he sits up.
“That was your first kiss?! You acted like a pro.” Akito sits up, too, leaning his head on Touya’s shoulder. His arm really does feel kinda broken. Maybe he should get it checked out. Ow. He blinks back tears of pain.
“And that wasn’t yours?”
“…I don’t know if you heard my teammates that first time you came to watch me practice, but I really did have a brief relationship with a guy on the volleyball team this spring.” A guy who had a motorcycle at that. Riding on his was what made Akito decide he wanted one for himself.
“Hmmm,” Touya says. “I bet he didn’t know how to make ice cream.”
“Oh, trust me, you’re unparalleled in that area.”
Touya smiles and looks up at the full moon, shining gently down on them. “It looks like a vanilla scoop.”
“Never mind, you ruined the moment more than falling down the hill did. Summer romance over. I don’t like you anymore.”
Touya turns to him and grabs his face and starts kissing him again.
“Ow—ow. Ow. Fuck. My arm.”
“Should I call an ambulance?!”
Akito quits his hellish nightmare of a job at the end of the summer as planned—farewell, cow bathroom and pink uniform and giggling admirers and discussions of Sundae Weekend—and stares longingly at his motorcycle in the shop window, still sitting there as if it’s waiting for him. He has enough to buy it now even though he didn’t win the contest, but, well, you can’t ride a motorcycle with a broken arm.
(Touya had apologized profusely that night for being the reason he injured it. Akito told him that for one thing, it was worth it, and for two thing, he was really glad it was a part of his body he doesn’t use for soccer. Otherwise, he might have had to kill himself and then break up with Touya, in that order.)
Touya catches up with him and leans down to plant a kiss on his cheek, then joins him in staring at the Holy Motorcycle of Hopes and Dreams. “Well. Do you think you’ll pick up a similar job next year? I’d like to enter the contest again.”
Akito sighs heavily. “Not on your life.”
“Aw.” Touya takes his good hand and twines their fingers together. “I’d thought maybe you’d have come around by now.”
“This isn’t a novel, and I’m not having a redemption arc.” He looks up at Touya. “What about you? Are you goin’ all in on the whole Sundae Weekend thing?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve got time to figure it out. I just like being a part of a community like this one.” He smiles. “I finally found someone who understands me here, after all.”
“And you’re never gettin’ rid of me.”
“Not on my life.”
Akito stands on his tiptoes and kisses Touya softly.
July of Akito’s second year of high school, he rides his flame-adorned, shiny, perfect motorcycle up to the Creamy Cow ice cream shop and lets the summer truly begin.