Magic still exists.

His limbs were frozen in place once he had turned around. Takurō looked into the surprised face of a slender girl. Long, black hair framed her graceful figure. Kukai’s eyes shone in an amber shade, gazing at him in shock.

She wore blue hotpants, and a loose, cold shoulder shirt. It was the first time Takurō saw her in leisure clothing, but this sight most definitely proved his point of her being the most strikingly beautiful girl to have ever walked underneath the sun.

Upon recognizing him, Kukai slowly lifted the small square object she was carrying in her hands, as if she tried to hide behind it.

“Kukai-san!” Takurō muttered. “What are you …?”

“Kanōya-kun! Uhm … a pleasant surprise! I didn’t expect to meet you here, now.” She looked at his black polo shirt showing the cinema’s logo. “You … jobbing here?”

He nodded, still a little paralyzed and noticed that there were still tears on his cheeks. He wiped them off. “During weekends and now that we have summer break, during a few weekdays as well, yah.”

He turned to fully face her and cleared his throat. His gaze fell on the small frame in her hands. It was still wrapped. “These artworks … you created them, ‘ight?”

She breathed in, her hands slightly dug into the bubble wrap of the frame she was holding. She looked around a little helpless, then back at Takurō and finally lowered her gaze. A slow gulp went through her throat. With a nod she confirmed his conclusion. “But please … don’t tell anyone ‘bout this, okay?”

“B-but …” Takurō was at a loss for words. Why would she keep quiet about such a talent? It would be a waste if only a handful of people saw her artworks.

“A bit more to the right, please.” He heard a voice from the side door that led to the service corridor behind the cinema and art gallery.

“There’s no more right I can go to!”

“Oh …” A man with white hair stood halfway in the doorframe. He was carrying a huge artwork, that seemed to be too big to fit around the corner of the door. Kukai noticed and thrusted the small print she had been carrying into Takurō’s hands. “I’ll open the other door wing. Just a sec.”

Finally, it fit through the door. The man was followed by a girl who carried the other side. Takurō looked at her in surprise. They placed the wrapped frame against the central wall of the gallery.

“Aki! Look who’s here!” Kukai exclaimed.

The girl turned around. Akimi Ashiya was Kukai’s closest friend as far as Takurō was concerned. She seemed to help Kukai with installing all the images in the gallery.

Her cheeks were flushed from the effort and heat and her eyes looked as indomitable and sharp as he remembered. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and used the hem of her belly shirt to dry the lower part of her face as well.

She was currently visiting the same class as Takurō, but he had never exchanged a single word with her. Only a few awkward gazes. “Hey,” she said.

“Hey, Ashiya-san.” He gave her a smile as warm as he was able to muster.

“Oh, and this is Iyogi-san,” Kukai also introduced the man who just dried his forehead with a handkerchief.

He wore rounded glasses and some kind of tailcoat with a dark, blue tie around his neck. As on cue he executed a polite bow that looked to be practiced to perfection. “Excuse me for intruding. My name is Satoshi Iyogi. I am a servant of Ashiya-sama’s household.”

Takurō was rendered speechless and almost forgot to requite the bow. “Uh … It’s a pleasure meeting you, Iyogi-san. I am Takurō Kanōya. I work at this cinema and I’m also a schoolmate of Ashiya-san and Kukai-san. I’ll help you carrying.”

Was that … a real butler? Takurō thought they would only exist in movies. If anything, Ashiya had never appeared like the classical rich girl to him—considering he had never spoken to her before this day.

“Let’s unwrap these quick and grab a drink, what do ya’ll say?” Kukai suggested. She looked at Takurō. “Would you do the smaller one, yeah?”

“Uh … f’sure!” He went to the small art print he had just placed against the wall and began loosening the adhesive strips that held the bubble wrap in place. The other three did the same with the big one—only that it had quite a few more.

Takurō squatted down and reached for the small artwork. Only now he noticed how much his hands were shaking. He just became aware of his current situation: The girl that seemed to be so far away from him had come into an arm’s reach and not only that!

She was the creator of art that spoke to the deepest part of his soul. Despite his heart pounding like crazy, a bittersweet pain also suffused his thoughts. Even though she seemed so close, it was only a trick of the light.

Kukai was a main character. The only thing Takurō was ever meant to become at best, was a member of her support cast—someone rooting for her, like a close friend. Still, friendship was not enough for his thirsty soul. He had to try it, at least. Even if the attempt would turn around to hunt him into his sleep.

Something about these artworks felt like they had been made just for him. There was a strange kinship, a thread that seemed to connect him to her—and if there was one thing, he now had to do, it was pulling it.

He stood up as soon as the small image was free of bubble wrap. His look rushed towards Kukai, who was still occupied with the big painting. “I love your artworks,” he said, drawing all the other’s attention towards him.

They looked at him with big eyes, exchanged a few gazes with one another.

“I’ve seen quite a few exhibitions here and elsewhere, y’know,” Takurō explained, slowly approaching her. “This is … I dunno … there were great ones, but as soon as I stepped into this room and saw the first images, I knew this one’d be special to me. I can’t explain why, but it’s like you’re able to preserve the small glints of an almost childlike magic in a world of science and progress.”

Kukai exchanged another gaze with Ashiya, and then with Iyogi. She bowed deeply. “T-thanks. Your words mean a hella lot to me, really.”

Her closed-off choice of words made the situation skip a beat. Iyogi and Ashiya seemed to use the opportunity of the awkward silence to continue unwrapping the big photo print.

“Uh … What software you using?” Takurō asked further, trying to keep the conversation afloat. Luckily, there were quite a few similarities with still and motion pictures, so he could put his knowledge to good use.

“Software? You mean … Picturestore.”

“Oh, really? For the painting part as well?”

She nodded. “Yeah, f’sure.”

“But the look’s original, isn’t it? Like … the colors and all. I mean you’ve taken them on analog film, ’ight?”

She looked at him with big eyes, blinked a few times.

“I mean … this isn’t a digital filter, yeah?” Takurō asked further. What was wrong with Kukai? She seemed so different from the way he knew her. Was she coy because someone had uncovered her secret hobby?

“Only an idiot would believe that a filter could emulate the beauty of light burning its’s way into film!” To his surprise, Ashiya barged into their conversation.

It was the first full sentence she had talked in front of him. Her voice sounded unique. Not as cute as Kukai’s and almost husky, but still warm and firm enough to suit her sharp gaze.

“Filters and Software could never emulate the essence of the world. Photographing with film, however, is like painting on canvas. No image turns out exactly the same, y’know. Magic still exists, but if we don’t use our eyes and nothing but perfect lenses and sensors, how should we contain and appreciate its beauty, huh?”

Kukai turned around to her friend. “But … I already told you …”

“Thank you, Raku,” Ashiya interrupted her gently. As the bubble wrap fell to the ground behind her, revealing the huge photography print of a girl standing on a train platform, as a train passed alongside her.

It was a self-portrait, taken in the reflection of a dark window. A golden antler glowed on the girl’s head—but only a single one. “It’s too late, but I think that’s how it’s supposed to be now.” The girl holding the camera was not Kukai … it was Ashiya, who had taken the photo.