"Sooo, you're going to have a high school reunion, huh?"

"Yeah…not a big deal, though," replied Lieutenant Ohtori Kensaku. Once again, Zuikaku seemed a little too interested in something trivial—like what he's been up to. Looking at her more closely, he could understand why. He could tell she was most likely bored from her boneless slump and groaning. It was both endearing and a bit annoying that she wanted him to remedy that. That was a tendency of hers he came to know so well—though he honestly didn't mind, all things considered.

"You know, I'm curious now—what's your high school life like?"

Scratch that; she's definitely bored, Ohtori thought. He was doubtful telling her that would help relieve that any, and he couldn't help but feel a little bad because her eyes were now sparkling, and she had become decidedly more animated, likely at the prospect of some tidbit she had never known before.

"My high school days? To start, exciting is not how I'd describe it. It's pretty uneventful," he said, wondering if Zuikaku would consider dropping the subject upon hearing that because he knew she had a distaste for dull things. To Ohtori's surprise, she leaned forward and slammed her palms on the table, at the same time reminding him how weirdly stubborn she could be.

"It's okay! I'd still wanna hear it!"

"But...you know, as I said, I don't think my story would be fun to hear..."

"You sound suspiciously like those guys who did something shameful as a student and are now too ashamed to talk about them. Maybe you were actually a notorious delinquent back then? A banchou, even? Or maybe, you got held back a year because you flunked your tests? Or other dark secrets?" Zuikaku scrutinized, whispering in a way reminiscent of a hiss—and despite knowing she was just being dramatic, Ohtori shuddered regardless.

"Well, no, nothing like that!?"

"Then, there should be no problem, right?"

She certainly had no problems with anything, having already made herself comfortable on her seat, chin resting on both palms. She seemed a little anxious but no less eager to be thrilled—and was now smiling; it was surprisingly warm. Seeing the beatific sight, Ohtori realized he no longer had the heart—nor the will—to try and dissuade her anymore. He figured she would inevitably feel let down after he was done and hoped she wouldn't be too disappointed. Thinking he might as well make himself comfortable, too—or at least try to, he leaned back and set the invitation aside.

"Okay, so...where do I start..."

"Oh, oh—how about your first-year entrance ceremony?"

Ohtori frowned but then laughed; she had just suggested starting with the decidedly most uninteresting subject, though admittedly the most logical start.

"Alright...like all schools, it was in spring—"

"Wait, wait—it was the time when flowers were blooming, wasn't it?! Like in the comics I read before?"

Though quite taken aback by the sudden interruption, Ohtori quickly regained himself.

"Uh...yeah, I guess. Though at that time, I didn't think much of it—I was...a little lost. You see, I didn't know the other freshmen, so I spent quite some time looking around. Everyone looked just as clueless as I did—"

Zuikaku's short snort again cut Ohtori short. He wasn't worried about getting laughed at because she would never laugh at his expense—but still, her amusement was curious.

"If only I were there and noticed you, I'd definitely approach you, Ohtori."

"Yo-you...uh...would?!" Ohtori cocked his head aside. Zuikaku looked back with a straight face—nothing would suggest she was joking, and he soon felt stupid for asking that.

"Yup. Probably because I would have gotten lost myself, heh," Zuikaku laughed crisply; Ohtori barely paid attention to it. To his chagrin, he instead imagined what if that indeed happened—her tap on his shoulder followed by a brusque greeting and ending with them finally figuring out where the ceremony was and walking there together, with him feeling a little embarrassed about it. He actually went red a little for real and groaned inwardly.

"Come to think of it, something similar did happen when Shoukaku-nee and I first arrived here," Zuikaku, who seemingly didn't notice, went on. "I approached the first officer I saw because we didn't know where the Commander's office was. As it turned out, it was you—and we're both clueless newcomers."

Ohtori couldn't help but laugh with her. That indeed happened, and if he had to admit, he was glad it did and that she stuck with him despite that. As her laughter subsided, Zuikaku leaned back on her seat, her chin again resting on her hands—and her smile remained.

"...Anything else you want to know?" Ohtori inquired, figuring that it was better for her to decide what story she would like to hear instead of him telling everything. Zuikaku was momentarily surprised but soon pursed her lips in deep thought.

"Hmm...tell me about your club activities, maybe? High school guys usually participate in clubs, right? Or were you part of the go-home club?"

"Nope...I was in the baseball club."

"Really?! That was cool!" Ohtori soon found Zuikaku closer than ever before, her hands banging the table so hard it quaked and clattered, and he shuddered. He didn't expect that degree of excitement from her, for sure—though he was certain it wouldn't last long.

"Not at all cool. I think we rarely won, heh," Ohtori chuckled. It wasn't entirely self-deprecation because his team indeed had a rather abysmal record on the rare occasion they would play another school, probably for lack of trying because none of them took it that seriously. Not even the coach. It helped that they were in a small town. The stakes were low, and people were unambitious.

"That so? Too bad. At least you guys had fun, I guess?"

Ohtori smiled warmly at the memory, remembering the laughs, and nodded—something that seemed to please Zuikaku a big deal.

"...I wonder, though...If I was there to cheer on you, would it make a difference?"

"Eh...?"

Zukaku was already looking away after she blurted the question—and Ohtori felt his blush returning. When Zuikaku looked at him again, she had the same color on her face.

Ohtori thought about it—if it would really make a difference—and his mind wandered once more, picturing her eagerly watching from the sidelines, beaming and yelling encouraging words as he was at the bat, and ignoring everything else around her.

He couldn't bring himself to imagine things further than that, to his slight dismay—as his chest felt it was being stuffed and wrung and warm—and buried his face in his arms.

"H—hey, Ohtori...you okay?"

"...Sorry, I can't show you my face right now. But to answer your question...yeah, it most definitely would. "

Zuikaku knitted her brows at that, but her gaze soon softened as she watched him hiding like that, his voice muffled and hushed but sure.

"You know, if I was in high school, I would totally join the kendo club. You guys had a kendo club?"

"Yeah, we did."

"Hey...I wonder...if I was in that club, would you cheer for me?"

Zuikaku quickly realized what she had just asked unthinkingly—but before she could backpedal, Ohtori already looked up.

"Of course, I would."

"Oh man, what am I thinking, asking something this stupid? Sorry about that," she waved her hands before her face, a feeble attempt to make her awkward happiness less revealing.

"I... don't mind," Ohtori coughed; he was just as jittery as her and failed as much to be subtle about it. They allowed a moment's silence to settle in to collect themselves—remarkably quickly.

"You know, back when I was in my second year, I had a class trip to Kyoto, too," Ohtori began; while at first he had misgivings about the whole thing, and despite what happened earlier, he now found himself more comfortable to continue his story.

"And you said your school life was boring," Zuikaku pouted. "What did you do on trips, anyway?"

Ohtori laughed sheepishly before continuing, "mostly sightseeing—the temples and whatnot. Then we slept in groups, though we ended up talking about things for hours and didn't get much rest."

"Now that actually sounds fun—going places and chatting with your friends like that," Zuikaku whistled, and her chin was now against her elbows instead of her palms, as she looked at nothing in particular. Noticing her surprisingly rueful tone, Ohtori felt a little guilty.

"Ah...but that's what we're doing right now, right? Chatting as friends, I mean," Ohtori exclaimed in a lame attempt to cheer her up; it was a pleasant surprise to see it worked.

"Yeah, you're right. It's also fun, in a way. And that's good because I still want to talk a bit more...like about your school's cultural festival. What did you do?"

"Oh, that...my class made and sold snacks. I had to help peddle them. That was all, really. Then my club tried to recruit members, but none of us really knew how to convince people, so that ended horribly. By the end of it, there was a dance around the bonfire."

"Oh, just like what I read, huh? I would love to get my hands on those snacks. But more importantly, did you dance with anyone, though?"

"...Nope. I've no partner, and I didn't want to ask anyone..." Ohtori swallowed another lump as Zuikaku narrowed her gaze—just before she brought that up, they were alight and gleaming as she listened.

"Oh, I see," Zuikaku soon snapped out of it, to Ohtori's relief. "That's too bad. I'm sure those girls would love to have you asking."

"Uhh...maybe," Ohtori muttered. Memories of the dance were now embellished with her presence, coming to him and pulling him toward the center, just like what happened before—and the strange sensation within his chest returned, just like the flushing of her cheeks. Then he noticed that she had grown melancholic.

"You know, Ohtori, I kinda envy you. Even though you said it wasn't exciting, I think your time in high school would still be the best years of your life, wouldn't it?" Zuikaku mumbled. Ohtori lowered his head. He regretted saying that before. Because he had to admit that it was the last time he could have the luxury to be carefree. And now he had come to an understanding.

The person in front of him didn't have such luxury. She never had those best years.

"I'm...sorry."

"Hey, don't be. It's just... it's not good to take something for granted, you know? If I had the chance to enjoy it, I would welcome it," Zuikaku exclaimed; her words were again tinged with a cheer that had Ohtori heaving an audible, relieved sigh.

"I understand," Ohtori replied and was rewarded by her pleasant grin. "Um, well, anything else you'd like to know, maybe?"

Zuikaku was reluctant and fidgeted a bit but soon steeled herself.

"...Have you ever...liked someone back then?"

The question—something like a sudden lightning, the shock adding to the taut feeling within had left Ohtori unable to articulate an answer. But Zuikaku was quick to dismiss her own question only after she looked just as mortified.

"No! No, no, forget that!" She shot up, flailing her arms frantically, and Ohtori was more than happy to stay quiet.

He could only wonder why she decided to ask that. The question was strikingly out of the ordinary, even in the context of their conversation. It was baffling and puzzling, and he was sure he couldn't forget it even if she asked. A small part of him, a small, wishful thinking part, had an inkling of the reason, but...

"I, uh, better go; see you, Ohtori. Thanks for the story," with a nervous chuckle and knowing nothing else that could salvage their talk from her ill-thought question, Zuikaku slid her chair back under the table before she made to leave. Yet before she could, Ohtori called to her.

"Hey, Zuikaku—this, uh, may sound strange and out of the blue...but uh...regardless of things, I'm...glad to have met you."

Zuikaku's lips hung open, then mumbled wordlessly while the rest of her body froze. It didn't take long for a smile to settle. It was pretty unlike everything Ohtori had seen before. Was it ever that big and warm? He couldn't tell.

"Same here. Don't forget to bring home souvenirs, yeah?" her reply was as vigorous as her smile suggested, and she left the mess hall in strides.

Ohtori had a hand on his chest. The fierce beating had not ceased as he thought of her last question. He had none—but had she been there, as an ordinary girl of his imagination, then he would have one.

He realized she was not the only one thinking of what could've been. Her regret was not hers only.

In a strange way, he, too, had never had those best years.

But it was no use getting wistful over that, Ohtori decided. They've met, after all, and despite the circumstances of their present, the best years of their lives didn't seem to be out of reach now.