Chapter 21: Beneath the Fireworks

The city festival was alive with color.

Strings of lanterns swayed above the crowded street, casting warm light on the faces of families, couples, and groups of friends wandering through the maze of food stalls and games. Somewhere in the distance, a taiko drum rhythm pulsed beneath the chatter, while the scent of grilled squid and sweet yakisoba drifted through the night air.

Yasu stood awkwardly near the station entrance, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his simple gray hoodie. He felt… out of place. Everyone around him wore yukata and jinbei, the traditional summer attire. He hadn’t even considered dressing up.

“Yo! Yasu-kun!”

He turned to see Daichi, waving with one hand while the other clutched a candy apple. Next to him stood Sunohara, her usual stern expression softened slightly beneath her light blue yukata.

And then—just behind them—

Hoshiko-sensei.

Yasu blinked.

She wore a dark violet kimono with a subtle star pattern along the hem. Her hair was tied up neatly, a few strands framing her face, and in her hand was a small purse shaped like a plum blossom.

Yasu’s mind went blank for a second.

Daichi grinned. “Surprised? You should be. Thought I’d spice things up a little.”

Yasu opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Sunohara tilted her head. “You okay, Yasu-kun?”

He nodded slowly. “...You didn’t say she was coming.”

Daichi shrugged. “Thought it’d be more fun this way.”

Hoshiko smiled at him. “Good evening, Yasu-kun.”

“...Good evening,” he muttered, averting his eyes.

“Cute hoodie,” she added, with just the hint of a smirk.

They began to walk, drifting naturally into the flow of festival-goers. Together, the four of them explored the bustling rows of stalls—shooting galleries, ring toss, mask vendors. Sunohara won a goldfish after three failed tries and refused to acknowledge Daichi’s cheers. Hoshiko tried her luck at a raffle and walked away with a small plush rabbit, which she immediately handed to Yasu.

He stared at it, confused. “Why me?”

“You need something to smile about.”

“I don’t collect these.”

“Good. Then it won’t distract you.”

Daichi snorted behind them.

They laughed more than Yasu expected. Ate more than he thought possible. And as they passed a cotton candy stand shaped like a cloud, he realized he hadn’t checked his phone in over an hour.

Time was moving strangely.

Then, somewhere between the grilled corn and the water balloon fishing stand, Yasu stopped.

He’d paused just to tie his shoe, but when he looked up—Daichi, Sunohara, and Hoshiko were gone.

He blinked, turning slowly, scanning the crowd. The sounds around him felt louder now, less like background noise and more like static.

Did they leave me behind?

Then, a soft voice behind him:

“Looks like we have a lost cat on our hands.”

He turned.

Hoshiko-sensei stood a few steps behind him, holding a cold soda in both hands. Her expression was amused but gentle.

“Where are Daichi and Sunohara?” he asked.

She shrugged, sipping her drink. “No idea. Looks like we got separated.”

He frowned slightly. “Should we wait for them?”

“They said they’d head to the fireworks after we finish walking around.” She gestured ahead. “Come on. Maybe we’ll spot them there.”

They walked in silence for a while.

Not an awkward silence—but a thick one. The kind filled with thoughts too loud to voice. The kind that lingered between words not yet spoken.

The festival noise dimmed as they neared the riverside where the fireworks were to be launched. Most of the crowd had already gathered, seated on blankets or crouched along the bank. Yasu and Hoshiko found a quiet spot slightly away from the crowd, under a tree where the view was clear and the noise more distant.

They sat.

She crossed her legs, fixing her sleeves. He rested his arms over his knees, eyes on the sky.

No one else in sight.

They waited.

And the silence came again—this time heavier. Different.

Yasu’s hands tightened slightly.

Now. Say it.

He glanced at her. She was staring ahead, expression unreadable.

“Sensei,” he began, his voice unusually low.

She looked at him.

“I want to tell you something.”

Her head tilted slightly. “What’s this look on your face? You’re frowning more than usual.”

His gaze dropped to his lap. “...I’m nervous.”

She leaned back slightly. “Oh? Now I’m curious.”

Yasu took a breath.

“Hoshiko-sensei… I love you.”

The words escaped like a rush of wind. His eyes remained closed. His cheeks flushed red.

“I fell for you the moment I met you.”

There was a long, drawn-out pause. A second passed. Two.

Then—softly—

He felt a finger press gently against his lips.

He opened his eyes in surprise—only to see Hoshiko leaning in, her finger still there, her face close. Before he could say anything, she kissed him lightly—on her fingertip, not his lips.

The first firework exploded behind them, lighting the sky in a bloom of red.

Yasu’s eyes widened.

His heart pounded so loud he thought it might echo across the river.

She leaned back slightly, her smile tinged with something he couldn’t quite define—affection, sadness, mischief.

“You’re such a fool,” she said softly. “I’m too old for you.”

He looked at her, and for once, didn’t look away.

“I don’t care.”

She laughed gently, eyes on the sky now.

“How can you fall in love with your teacher?”

He hesitated.

Then, softly, he muttered, “After everything you’ve done… how could I not?”

Her smile shifted—less teasing now, more thoughtful.

“Maybe,” she said after a pause, “I’ll accept that confession... once you graduate. If your feelings are still the same by then.”

Yasu nodded once.

“I'll wait. My feelings will never change.”

The fireworks continued, each burst coloring the night in red, blue, gold.

They sat side by side beneath the blooming sky. No longer teacher and student. Not quite lovers. But something new—something real—taking root in the space between silence and spark.

And for Yasu, under that sky full of stars and fire, everything had finally made sense.