Story Reader / Affection / Yata: Fulgor / Story
After leaving the music club room, Yata leads you to the track and field club's area, navigating with ease.
Though close to the field, the indoor space is noticeably smaller. Yata ventures inside, methodically searching every corner.
The metal shelves are lined with the club's achievements—trophies proudly displayed on the top shelf, medals arranged below, and carefully framed group photos positioned in the most prominent place.
At the center is a snapshot of Yata and her teammates high-fiving on the podium, their boundless energy and radiant spirits frozen in that triumphant moment.
On the left are candid shots from their sports activities, while the right displays their playful moments and club gatherings...
There is an unmistakable sense of pure joy that permeates this place.
The Construct stands with her back to you, rummaging through something in the shadows of the storage lockers.
Come to think of it, in all your encounters today and before, you have never seen Yata wear such a bright, uninhibited smile like the ones captured in these photos.
These photos lead your mind to wander—if the Punishing disaster had never happened, how different would she be now, after all these years?
Found it—
Suddenly, Yata's voice cuts through your wandering thoughts.
Just as I remembered, it's right here.
As she speaks, Yata reaches deeper into the shadows behind the storage locker.
Take a guess.
Yata turns her head to look at you while her mechanical arms continue searching in the darkness behind her.
You're half right—ah, got it. Come give me a hand.
Dust swirls in the dark corner as Yata's mechanical arms slowly drag out a heavy box, its metal base scraping against the floor.
You walk over and grab one end of the box while Yata takes the other, and together you heave the heavy container to the center of the classroom.
Yata crouches down and wipes the dust off the box. As she presses a switch, a password input screen appears, its blue glow illuminating her face.
Hmm, if I recall correctly... this should be the password.
Her fingers dance across the virtual screen. A row of asterisks appears and the interface flashes green, followed by two mechanical clicks as the lock disengages.
I knew it... These guys always used the club's founding date as the password.
Just some... things we never got to use. What a shame.
Look—
Yata pulls out a handcrafted light panel. At her touch, a faint light flickers to life, revealing illuminated characters before your eyes—
Yeah, we prepared these for that year's cultural festival.
Yukimura designed this sign, featuring our club's slogan.
Yeah, that's the one.
Run, students, run!
Shouting such a line by myself feels a bit weird...
And this one too—a mini coin-operated robot that Miyuki made. Put something in, and it'll automatically speak something auspicious.
Thanks for the tip, Boss! You're awesome—
...Stuff like that.
She continues to pull out various items from inside, constantly smiling as she introduces each one.
Because I actually came here looking for this—
With a firm tug, Yata pulls out a stack of yellow fabrics from between the crevices of the box.
The striped tarpaulin gleams in the light, and as it's gently shaken, a layer of dust floats down like drifting cotton.
Yeah, it'd be trouble if it suddenly started to rain during the festival.
The more the merrier, right?
Yata carefully folds the tarp and sets it aside, then turns her attention back to the storage box filled with various treasures.
By the way...
Yata looks up, a hint of curiosity crossing her face.
What do you think I'm preparing?
Close enough, I guess.
I do play baseball, but I feel like you're hinting at something else...
She reaches deeper into the box and pulls out a small booklet.
This is just between you and me, okay?
Yata opens the booklet, revealing pages filled with wild, messy handwriting.
That's right. I wasn't too fond of e-books back then, so I made sure to write everything down by hand.
After all these years, if I'd stored it on a data tablet, it probably would've corrupted by now. Guess I made the right decision.
It's not really about interest... I just wanted to help the track and field club make a name for itself, so my clubmates wouldn't have any regrets.
During the cultural festival, the school would pick the most popular club based on student votes.
Think about it—what could a track and field club possibly display at a festival stall?
Students would obviously prefer the flashier, more popular clubs... you know, like the anime club or the gaming club.
So the only solution I could think of was to set up a food stall at our club's spot to try and win some popularity.
But unfortunately, our club members were all... well, none of us knew how to cook.
So I started learning from scratch. The cooking club members were kind enough to help me out.
I guess so. I even convinced Uncle Morita to teach me his secret taiyaki recipe, though I had to help him out with quite a few problems in return...
—Hey, don't change the subject.
Seemingly recalling Uncle Morita's exaggerated stories, Yata cringes and playfully pokes at you with her mechanical arm.
Anyway, after putting in a lot of effort, I finally managed to learn how to make a few decent dishes before the cultural festival.
It was alright. I just didn't want to disappoint everyone who was looking forward to the cultural festival.
Yata lowers her head, fingers tracing over the yellowed pages as she begins to speak—
The day before the cultural festival, a typhoon suddenly struck from the sea.
The cultural festival had to be canceled, and it stayed that way until...
Yata closes her eyes, not mentioning the catastrophe that shattered all their dreams.
At first, we thought it was just a light drizzle that a simple tarp could handle. None of us expected it to turn out like that.
The weather on this artificial island has always been unpredictable, with heavy rains coming out of nowhere. Everyone's put so much effort into preparing for this festival—we can't let the rain ruin it again.
We couldn't make it happen back then, and today... I hope history won't repeat itself.
Though I can't control the weather, I'll do everything in my power to prepare for all possible scenarios.
...Yeah, you're right.
In this old classroom, someone who once belonged here tells stories that once took place here.
These long-forgotten items lie before Yata as she gently fiddles with them, lost in nostalgia.
Having found everything she was looking for, Yata slowly returns the items to their storage box, her hesitant movements betraying her reluctance to let go.
What's wrong?
She pauses, lifting her head to meet your gaze.
What do you mean...?
The streets are all ready for the festival and events.
A breeze from outside flips the booklet's pages, filling this small corner of the room with their rustling sounds.
In an instant, a confident smile tugs at her lips, her composure returning.
Yata raises her hand and gives you an enthusiastic high-five with a crisp clap.
Yes, let's do it!
Alright, you go ahead and talk. I'll... step out for a bit. Be right back.
After a brief discussion with the festival staff about the request, they eagerly arrange a stall for you.
Ahem, uh—turn around.
Just as you put down the terminal, a familiar, cheerful female voice calls out from behind.
Good evening, [player name].
Yata wears an ink-black uniform, her red tie swaying gently in the breeze.
With bright eyes and a spirited demeanor, she looks every bit like a real high school student standing before you.
Pretty much. It's a custom coating based on my memory, something I brought down from Babylonia.
How did it go? Did you get us a stall?
Yata picks up the various items she has gathered, then turns to you and points toward the window, where the night has grown quiet and still.
The last traces of dusk have faded away, and stars begin to dot the endless expanse of the night sky.
Shall we get going then?
Yeah, this time, let's give it our all and make it count!
