Shigeru watched his group from a few steps back, arms folded, saying nothing. Yuwa was already deep in an argument with Taku about whether the archery competition was worth entering and Sana was reading the wrestling listings with a focused expression she usually reserved for menus. They were loud and half-drunk and entirely in their element.
He didn't want to be here. He'd made peace with that fact sometime around the second day of travel, when Yuwa's excitement about the festival had reached a pitch that made declining feel genuinely cruel. He'd relented, as he usually did when it came to his group, and told himself at least the timing was useful.
He felt the tug at his sleeve before he saw who it was — light fingers, tentative, the kind of touch that was already preparing to let go if he pulled away.
He turned.
