Of Wishes and Fireworks: A Summer’s Memory

The weekend couldn’t have arrived any faster.
  Azusa and I got off the train at the station closest to the local shrine. The entire platform, along with the streets outside, brimmed with festivalgoers—many dressed in vibrant yukata that turned the crowd into a river of colour, flowing steadily toward the shrine grounds beneath rows of glowing lanterns.
  I fidgeted with the collar of my yukata, still not entirely sure how people were supposed to relax in these things. Nestled somewhere between excitement and nostalgia, my chest felt like it was hosting a summer parade of its own.
  Azusa clung to my sleeve, practically brimming with energy in her pink yukata. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have mistaken her for the unofficial mascot of excitement itself.
  Kotoha’s unread message pulsed on my phone screen like a warning flare.
  > Be there by 6.30 PM! Don’t be late!
  It was only 6:08. Plenty of time to stroll leisurely… and accidentally sabotage our punctuality.
  I thumbed out a quick “on our way” reply—only for Azusa to yank my sleeve again, this time with more urgency.
  “Hmm?”
  I looked toward where she was pointing at.
  A familiar white-haired figure emerged from the station, moving with the kind of self-conscious elegance that screamed I practiced this in a mirror once.
  Nozomi was looking like someone trying to blend in by performing what they imagined blending in looked like.
  The yukata Chiyo had chosen for her, pale blue with faint floral motifs, fit her almost too well. It wasn’t just the outfit—it was the way she wore it, like it belonged to her all along. Her hair, usually left to fall in airy curtains, had been drawn into a side ponytail, secured with a modest clip that made her look even more like some wandering elf from a JRPG tutorial area.
  For a moment, everything else receded—the sounds, the lights, even my own phone, which now felt like dead weight in my hand.
  “Sorry I’m late. Dressing up took longer than I thought.”
  Classic rookie line. Then again, who was I to judge? We were practically in the same boat.
  My thoughts flatlined. I definitely stared a beat longer than what society deemed polite before fumbling for a response.
  “No, you’re early, actually. We’re just… glad you came.”
  “You look really pretty in that yukata, Nozomi!” Azusa declared, positively sparkling.
  “Thank you. You look lovely as well.”
  Azusa visibly basked in the praise, while I cleared my throat—the universal cue for let’s keep this moving.
  “Well then, shall we? Kotoha’s about to start.”
  Nozomi gave a soft, wordless “Mm” and gestured with her chin.
  I translated that as: “After you.” Or maybe “Please get us out of the spotlight.”
  The air was thick with mouthwatering aromas—grilled meat, fried dough, sweet syrup. Azusa slowed beside a yakitori stand, eyes large and locked onto the sizzling skewers, but I nudged her gently onward.
  “Snacks after the show. Focus first, gluttony later.”
  The sound of taiko drums grew louder as we neared the main shrine. By the time we reached the performance grounds, the area was already packed with festival attendees.
  A hushed anticipation settled over the crowd as the as the opening notes ceased, signalling the start of the performance.
  One by one, shrine maidens in pristine white haori and crimson hakama took their places on the stage in perfect synchronization.
  Kotoha emerged into the forefront, and immediately, the instruments resumed in melodious harmony—drums setting the pulse, complemented by soft shrills of flutes and the occasional shimmer of bells.
  Dancing through the air were Kotoha’s fans, arcs of tradition and intent wrapped behind each sweeping gesture. A seamless blend of artistic performance and communion—of offering and remembrance woven into motion.
  Beside me, Nozomi stood motionless, her amber eyes reflecting the lantern light like twin flames. Azusa, usually the definition of kinetic energy, stood with hands clasped, mesmerized.
  I leaned toward Nozomi and murmured, “Kagura’s meant to honor the gods. It’s a form of thanks—for blessings, for good harvests… maybe even second chances.”
  She simply squared her shoulders ever so slightly, eyes never leaving the stage.
  When it ended, the crowd applauded—not with cheers, but with a reverence that said more than volume ever could. Kotoha bowed, then slipped into the shrine’s rear chambers.
  I let a small grin slip. All those extra practice hours weren’t for nothing.
  The final echoes of the drums gave way to chatter and soft footsteps as people began to disperse.
  “Since we’re already here, why not offer a quick prayer?” I suggested.
  Nozomi nodded, Azusa mirroring the gesture with enthusiasm, and we joined the small queue winding toward the offering box.

“So, what did you two wish for?” I asked the girls afterward.
  “Good health. And peaceful dreams,” Nozomi answered in her usual soft, breeze-like voice.
  Azusa flipped her board up. “I wished for all of us to go to more festivals together!”
  “Huh, guess I’m the only one who asked for academic blessings.”
  Azusa gave me a look so deeply unimpressed, I almost felt personally attacked.
  “How boring...”
  “Hey, some of us are just trying to survive exams,” I said, stifling a laugh behind a sigh.
  That was when I spotted Kotoha striding up the path behind the shrine, her ceremonial outfit replaced with a bright orange yukata splashed with wild, swirling patterns. Her loosely tied hair framed her face with just the right amount of chaos to remind me she’d never once needed effort to be radiant.
  Azusa shot her arms into the air, bouncing slightly on her heels in her rush to be seen.
  “Kotoha! You’re here!”
  “That’s right! Your one and only!” Kotoha declared, winking as she reached us. “I’ve gotten the green light to stick around for the fireworks.”
  She crouched with a grin and gave Azusa’s hair an affectionate tousle before straightening again.
  “Well?” she said, placing her hands on her hips like a performer awaiting her review. “What’s the verdict? Did I wow you, or should I start job-hunting tomorrow?”
  Azusa scribbled at lightning speed.
  “Your performance was superb!”
  “Not bad at all if I say so myself,” I said, folding my arms with an approving grin.
  “It was an excellent performance, Fujimiya. I enjoyed it thoroughly,” Nozomi added.
  Kotoha leaned in like she was trying to read fine print on Nozomi’s soul, and Nozomi edged back reflexively.
  “Ko-to-ha,” she enunciated slowly, like she was teaching a toddler the concept of syllables.
  “…Pardon?”
  “You can call me Kotoha from now on! And I’ll call you Nozomi, alright?”
  “…Okay,” she replied a beat after, still visibly reeling from the surprise.
  “Great! Pleased to meet you, Nozomi!” Kotoha beamed, thrusting out her hand as if sealing a once-in-a-lifetime pact.
  Nozomi paused, then reached out—her fingers brushing Kotoha’s with the kind of delicacy that suggested caution than reluctance.
  “I’ll be in your care,” her words, even in its softness, rang with more truth than any fanfare ever could.
  Kotoha shot me a triumphant smirk.
  “See? Glowing reviews. What about you, Kaoru? Is that not enough to convince you of my fabulous performance?”
  “You were alright,” I said, wearing the laziest expression I could summon. “Though I think the crowd clapped out of pity.”
  Kotoha reeled back, clutching her chest as if I'd just committed sacrilege.
  “Pity?! I should’ve left you in the back rows!”
  Nozomi let out a faint laugh, her gaze trailing between the two of us.
  Kotoha caught her look and grinned, lowering her voice conspiratorially.
  “He’s always like this. But don’t be fooled—he’s probably my biggest fan.”
  “You wish,” I shot back, rolling my eyes for effect.
  Kotoha turned to Nozomi with renewed energy.
  “So! What do you think of the festival so far?”
  Nozomi took a slow turn, her eyes drinking in the lanterns and chatter, before settling back on us.
  “…It’s a little intense—but I like it,” she said, her voice unguarded in a way that made it feel more personal than anything else she'd shared all evening.
  “I think so too!” Azusa chimed in, holding up her whiteboard like a cheer sign.
  “Good! Festivals are supposed to be overwhelming—that’s half the magic,” Kotoha said, flinging her arms wide with the conviction of someone unveiling a sacred truth. “What about the food? Have you tried anything yet?”
  “No,” Nozomi admitted. “We came to watch the performance first.”
  Kotoha let out an exaggerated gasp.
  “No festival snacks yet?! Nozomi, that’s criminal. Don’t worry—I’ll make sure we fix that immediately.”
  Azusa nodded with the excitement of someone who’d just been promised a cartful of sweets.
  “Ooh, I can’t wait!”
  “I’ll hold you to that,” Nozomi said, smiling just enough for it to count.
  “Alright then,” Kotoha clapped her hands. “Enough standing around. We’ve got a festival to conquer!”

From skewers dripping with sauce to glossy candied apples and pastel dango, Kotoha went full vendor-mode, feeding the girls like she was trying to win festival ambassador-of-the-year. She even dragged them into the koi-fishing stalls, cheering as if their plastic scoops held the fate of the festival.
  “Okay, okay, one thing at a time…” I told Azusa as she returned—again—tugging on my sleeve after sprinting off like a firework every time something caught her eye. At this rate, it would’ve been faster to chase her down with a leash.
  Funny how the scenery never changed, yet the feeling did. Maybe it was the weather. Maybe it was the company. Whatever it was, I didn’t hate it.
  Azusa zipped back once more, practically vibrating with excitement.
  “What is it this time?” I asked, half-expecting to get roped into another goldfish tragedy.
  Instead of flashing her whiteboard, she held something out—a butterfly hairpin, almost sparkling between her fingers like a captured moment.
  “That’s really pretty,” I said, noting the fine detailing. “Where’d you get it?”
  She scribbled fast.
  “Nozomi picked it for me!”
  Clutching the hairpin close, she practically glowed.
  “I just thought it would suit her,” Nozomi calmly pointed out, after catching up.
  Kotoha gave her a gentle nudge with the enthusiasm of someone exposing a hidden side character’s tragic backstory. “So you do have a soft side. The stoic beauty, secretly a sweetheart? Who knew.”
  Nozomi blinked rapidly, like she’d never considered the possibility herself.
  “…Is that really how people see me?” A faint pink surfaced at the tips of her ears.
  Kotoha tossed a look my way, wearing that grin she usually reserved for incriminating photo evidence.
  “She’s kind of adorable when she’s caught off-guard, huh?”
  I coughed into my hand. “Anyway. We should keep moving. Still plenty left to see.”
  “Suuuure.” Kotoha’s smirk didn’t let up, but she graciously dropped the subject—for now.
  Eventually, we found ourselves following a short queue leading up to a fabric-draped stall—A fortune booth, because of course we would.
  Kotoha’s idea, naturally. Azusa had been all in from the start, and even Nozomi—after some diplomatic nudging—agreed to join.
  “Who knows? Maybe the universe has something interesting to tell you,” Kotoha had teased, already halfway sold on the idea herself.
  I’d never been one for fortunes or fate, but there was no harm in playing along. At worst, I’d walk away with another entry in the ever-growing catalogue of personal regrets.
  The line moved quickly, and soon we stepped inside, slipping past the thin curtain covering the entrance. The moment we did, the atmosphere shifted as if we’d stepped into a space separate from the rest of the bustling festival.
  “Welcome, dear customers. I see fate has brought you all to me tonight.”
  That playful, honeyed voice was unmistakable.
  “Of course it’s you,” I almost sighed in reflex after seeing the woman in the wisteria kimono sitting behind the low table with her signature angelic carrying a devil’s edge of amusement.
  “Aunt Chiyo?!” Kotoha’s voice spiked as if she’d stumbled upon a secret celebrity. “What are you doing here?!”
  “Hello, my little troublemaker. Can’t an honest woman dabble in entrepreneurial divination these days?” Chiyo answered without breaking character.
  “That’s not what I—never mind.” Kotoha’s shoulders slumped in surrender.
  I watched the exchange with mild interest. Huh. So even Kotoha had people she couldn’t talk back to.
  Then again, I wondered who could even match up against the omniscient Chiyo.
  “Let me guess. Up to no good again?”
  “Rude,” Chiyo huffed cheerfully, regardless. “My work is perfectly reputable, thank you. And I’ll have you know, love fortunes are very in this year.”
  “Now, now, since we’re all here, we should get what we came for!”
  Chiyo let out her very characteristic melodramatic gasp.
  “At last! A soul who understands my plight.”
  “Alright, let’s get on with it,” I muttered, cutting straight to the chase. The glint in Chiyo’s eye suggested she was more than happy to oblige.
  “That’s the spirit, dear.”
  She scanned our group with that usual unreadable calm. Her gaze lingered a second longer on Nozomi before gesturing toward the floor cushions.
  “This better not be a scam,” Kotoha grumbled, sitting cross-legged like she was ready to fight the concept of destiny itself.
  Chiyo just laughed.
  “Then why not put my skills to the test?”
  Azusa plopped down first with no hesitation, holding up her board as if she were raising her hand.
  “Me first!”
  Chiyo nodded, already shuffling a deck of ornate cards before laying them out with practiced ease.
  “Let’s see what the stars have to say, little one.”
  Stars now? I could’ve sworn she was a fortune-teller, not a moonlighting astrologer. Then again, knowing her, she’d probably parry that observation with a witty comeback.
  Her eyes glittered when she flipped open the first card.
  “Oh my. This is a lovely pull,” Chiyo began. “You are someone who treasures the bonds you’ve built. You have a pure heart, and your unwavering kindness draws people toward you.”
  Azusa beamed like she’d just won a prize, until Chiyo tapped the next card she flipped in succession.
  “However, you also bear a deep fear of loss.”
  Azusa’s expression wavered, ever so slightly.
  “There’s nothing to fear,” Chiyo reassured her kindly. “The connections you cherish will not easily fade. If anything, they will only grow stronger with time. A path of growth and discovery awaits you. Though the road may seem uncertain, it is filled with possibilities.”
  Azusa took in her reading thoughtfully, and scooted aside to allow Kotoha to take the spotlight.
  “And what about you, little performer?” Chiyo purred, already preparing the deck.
  Kotoha rolled her shoulders.
  “Hit me with your best shot.”
  Chiyo turned over the top card, and the smile that bloomed across her lips was far too satisfied to be anything but premeditated.
  “How appropriate.”
  “What is it?” Kotoha leaned in with the curiosity of someone secretly hoping the card would confirm her as the reincarnation of a stage goddess.
  “You are someone who shines,” Chiyo said. “Lively, passionate—someone who carries an infectious light that inspires those around them.”
  “Naturally,” Kotoha replied, her voice practically giving itself a standing ovation.
  “But even stars may shine upon lonely skies,” Chiyo added. “The tragedy of yearning, of seeking what cannot be held. Yet, with divinity by your side, guidance will never stray far.”
  “You’re getting poetic on me again.” Kotoha pouted.
  “Perhaps you may be due for some introspection.”
  Azusa reached over and patted Kotoha’s arm in silent sympathy.
  “You have my deepest condolences,” I said flatly.
  “Oh, come on, not you too.” Kotoha groaned, drawing a laugh from the group.
  Chiyo’s eyes flicked toward Nozomi.
  “A new presence... Shall we?”
  Nozomi gave a tiny nod.
  “Please do.”
  Chiyo went through the motions again, but when the first one turned over, her brow ticked just enough to suggest universe had whispered something curious.
  “You are someone who has spent a long time alone. Isolated… either by choice, or by circumstances beyond your control.”
  Nozomi didn’t react, but I caught the slight twitch of her fingers against her lap.
  Chiyo proceeded to reveal a second card.
  “You accept your decisions without question, that this is how it has always been. But that has changed of late, I see... You’ve started dipping your toes into unfamiliar waters, haven’t you?” Chiyo’s voice gentled. “That is a good thing. And know this—those hands you have reached for will not let go so easily.”
  Nozomi’s eyes lowered slightly as if she was auditing each word and what it meant to her.
  “Remember this,” Chiyo said, placing the last card with almost ceremonial care. “An unbreakable tie can only form when another’s knot comes undone.”
  Right. That was deep.
  Meanwhile, I was still mentally stuck between whether this called for polite applause, a respectful nod, or a full-blown interpretive dance.
  Nozomi’s tarot reading had just about wrapped up, which meant I was next in line.
  Great. No pressure or anything. Just follow the emotionally resonant act with my own existential striptease.
  Not the kind of performance I can wholeheartedly endorse, even for good measure.
  “And what of you, Kaoru?”
  “Hard pass.”
  “Not even a little curious?”
  “Not in the slightest.”
  “You don’t get to skip!” Kotoha cut in, jabbing a finger at me. “We all went through with it!”
  Azusa added moral pressure with a single, expectant stare.
  “I didn’t sign up for this,” I muttered.
  “I am a little curious though.”
  Huh?
  In that instant, time braked so hard it left emotional skid marks across everyone’s face.
  Nozomi had spoken—and in doing so, casually launched our collective expectations into the stratosphere.
  Kotoha’s sparkle visibly fizzled. Azusa stared blankly, like her internal blackboard had just been rage-cleared.
  Meanwhile, Chiyo looked like a thrilled viewer whose favourite soap just dropped a secret twin reveal while I was left with my jaw hanging wide enough to catch a falling meteorite.
  “Cornered at last,” Chiyo declared. “Truly a rare beast, brought down by collective peer pressure.”
  “Wonderful,” I muttered, dragging myself forward like I was being sacrificed to the gods of vague spiritual advice.
  Chiyo flipped a single card from the neatly laid deck once again.
  “Distance is but an invisible thread when fate has already tied the knot.”
  “Any chance you could explain that in… I don’t know, actual human terms?”
  “No can do, darling. That level of insight requires a loyalty subscription.”
  “Super helpful,” I said, dry as dust.
  “You’re very welcome.”
  Chiyo just giggled at my usual ‘disappointment.’ I’m sure this woman has a sick hobby of watching people squirm.
  Kotoha stretched her arms behind her head. “Well, that was entertaining. What do you guys think?”
  “It was fun!” Azusa wrote enthusiastically.
  “It wasn’t unpleasant at least,” Nozomi remarked.
  “You think it actually means something?” Kotoha asked.
  “I think so. I want to believe it does.”
  “I found it rather… meaningful,” Nozomi said, as if searching for the right words.
  “I dunno, Feels like I’m being toyed with again,” I said.
  “I always tell the truth, dear.”
  So she says.
  “Truths are open to interpretation, I assume.”
  “You know me so well.”
  Actually, I don’t. But scratch that.
  Kotoha shrugged. “Well, nothing’s written in stone. It’s just for fun, right?”
  “Fun, huh…” I mused aloud, rolling the thought over in my head. “That’s true. It was pretty fun, I guess.”
  “Didn’t expect that from Mr. Invisible Thread,” she teased.
  Azusa raised her board again:
  “Big bro enjoyed something? It’s a miracle!”
  Nozomi let out a tiny laugh. “We should treasure this rare event.”
  “Alright, alright. No need to make it a big deal.”
  Chiyo clapped her hands daintily to gather our attention.
  “Oh, one last thing. If you plan to catch the fireworks display, I recommend the riverbank path near the old wooden bridge. The view is spectacular, and blissfully less crowded.”
  “The old wooden bridge…” Kotoha tapped her chin, then lit up. “Sounds ideal. What do you guys think?”
  “Works for me,” I said.
  “I’m fine with that,” Nozomi murmured.
  Azusa gave an eager hop, her energy answering before she could lift her board.
  Well, that settled it.
  “Alright then,” Kotoha grinned.
  “Let’s get moving.”
  Chiyo clasped her hands, pleased. “Delighted to be of service.”
  With a graceful push that was only half as gentle as it looked, Chiyo ushered Kotoha toward the exit.
  “Off you go, little ones! Leave the other mortals a chance to be mystified by yours truly.”
  “We’re going, we’re going,” Kotoha said, laughing as she stumbled forward, having been evicted by the very polite bouncer that was her aunt.
  “Appreciate the tip,” I said, managing the rare feat of sincere gratitude without sounding like I was choking on it.
  Nozomi dipped her head in quiet acknowledgment, and Azusa gave a farewell wave so enthusiastic it could’ve registered on the Richter scale.
  Chiyo returned it all with a cat-like smile and a parting call: “Enjoy your evening, children~”

By some miracle—or sorcery—Chiyo’s suggestion led us to a grassy plateau by the river that was somehow still unclaimed by other humans. A complete win in my books, especially since we’d just fled the main plaza moments before getting trampled by yakisoba fanatics and goldfish scoopers with bloodlust.
  We were close enough to the water’s edge, with an unobstructed view of the sky stretched wide above us—waiting to be ignited in a burst of colour. Beyond the old wooden bridge, the festival still blazed lively in the distance, its vibrant lights reflected across the darkened surface of the river.
  Azusa plopped down beside Kotoha, the two of them fidgeting with their yukata as they got comfortable. A short distance away, Nozomi sat alone, watching the still waters with a look of quiet contentment.
  I found myself silently thanking Chiyo again. Whatever ulterior motive she’d baked into this recommendation, it had bought us this moment.
  “Not too overwhelming for you so far, I hope?” I asked, easing down beside her on the grass.
  She shook her head briefly, a faint smile forming at the corners of her lips.
  “I’m managing better than I thought.”
  “Good to hear. I hope you’re enjoying yourself so far.”
  A shrill whistle split the air.
  A burst of crimson and gold bloomed overhead, scattering across the sky like someone had set a match to a painter’s palette. The river caught it all—shimmering with colour, reflecting chaos like it was born to.
  Azusa let out a soft squeal of delight as another firework spiralled upward and burst into a glittering cascade of silver. She instinctively reached for Nozomi’s hand, squeezing it lightly as she pointed skyward.
  Nozomi accepted it.
  In place of her usual guardedness was something much purer—unfiltered marvel. The glow of the fireworks danced across her amber eyes, reflecting a kind of wonder too honest to fake.
  “It’s so pretty…” she murmured.
  Damn right, she was.
  She belonged in that moment. Not as an outsider watching from the shore—but as part of the scene itself. Something almost sacred. Something I wasn’t sure I deserved to witness.
  It didn’t matter what she was actually referring to. My mind had already made up its own answer—and tricked itself into believing it.
  I couldn’t look away.
  No matter how many times I saw this scene—this summer, these people—I knew my feelings wouldn’t change.
  Being here, now, wasn’t just a nice memory waiting to happen. It felt like a step toward something else.
  So I let myself savor it.

 “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
  “Yeah… it is,” I murmured absently, still lost in the moment.
  “The fireworks,” Kotoha added, her voice dropping a notch, “or Nozomi?”
  The question hit me like a stray firework in the face.
  I stiffened immediately, realizing I had fallen into a trap. A surge of heat was creeping up my neck.
  “Mind your own business,” I muttered, keeping my eyes glued to the sky. No chance I was letting her see my face now.
  “I didn’t say anything yet, though.”
  I pretended to ignore her, mostly because I couldn’t think of a comeback that didn’t sound like a confession.
  Kotoha giggled beside me, utterly unrepentant.
  The grand finale didn’t so much arrive as detonate in a thunderous crescendo.
  Gold and silver collided in the sky like two gods trying to outdo each other in an interpretive dance. The result was a beautiful, chaotic, and slightly excessive symphony of color. Just the way it should be.
  When the last embers fizzled out, a tentative silence crept back in—woven through the smoke, the drifting scent of burnt powder, and the distant murmur of festival chatter.
  We gathered together again, riding that post-show daze like it was the best drug of the night.
  “That was amazing, wasn’t it?” Kotoha stretched with a satisfied sigh, still basking in residual awe.
  “I know, right? What a nice way to wrap up the night,” said a familiar voice behind her.
  Kotoha flinched slightly as hands suddenly landed on her shoulders, giving them a playful squeeze.
  “Aaaand our friendly neighbourhood psychic makes her grand entrance again,” I muttered, not even surprised anymore.
  “Aunt Chiyo?!” Kotoha twisted around. “Weren’t you supposed to be watching the stall?”
  “I stepped out to catch the grand finale. Besides, who in their right mind would choose another fortune reading over that?”
  Her gaze swept across the group, pausing just long enough on me to be legally considered harassment.
  “From the looks of it,” she said, “I’d say you all enjoyed yourselves. Some more than others.”
  I made a heroic effort not to react.
  “It was magical!” Azusa bounced on her heels, excitement still fizzing off her like leftover sparks. “We should do this again!”
  “It’s all thanks to your recommendation,” Nozomi said, turning to Chiyo.
  “Oh, think nothing of it. I’m just glad you could make the most of it.”
  “Well, this has been fun,” Kotoha said, already straightening her yukata. “But I should probably head back to the shrine.”
  “Already? Can’t you stay any longer?”
  Azusa’s pout could have melted mochi.
  “I’d love to,” Kotoha said, crouching slightly to meet her eyes, “but if I don’t help with cleanup, the shrine elders will hunt me down before morning.”
  “As usual… those stiffs can’t catch a break,” Chiyo mumbled under her breath.
  I gave her a look. “Did you say something, Chiyo?”
  “Nothing at all, dear~”
  Azusa puffed her cheeks but nodded in understanding.
  Kotoha ruffled her hair gently.
  “Don’t get into too much trouble, alright?”
  Azusa grinned and gave a thumbs-up like she’d just been assigned a mission.
  Then Kotoha turned to Nozomi, “I’ll leave her in your care.”
  “Understood,” Nozomi replied with her usual calm.
  Just as we started to part ways, I felt a hand rest lightly on my shoulder.
  “Not so fast, dear,” Chiyo purred.
  “What now?” I asked, glancing back at her warily.
  Her smile was all innocence, which, coming from her, meant certain danger.
  “I’d like to borrow you for a little while.”
  I didn’t even have to check with the others. Azusa had already written her verdict all over her face, the expression of a disapproving guardian spirit.
  “Try not to get caught in anything weird.”
  “Fine… let’s get this over with.”

*          *          *

The earlier buzz of excitement had mellowed into tranquillity as Nozomi and Azusa walked along the dimly lit cobblestone path. In the distance, festival laughter was still putting in overtime.
  Azusa, who’d been brimming with energy all evening, now leaned into Nozomi’s side, her steps noticeably slower.
  “Tired?” Nozomi asked, glancing down.
  Azusa blinked up at her with a sheepish smile, raising her whiteboard with a hastily scrawled message: “A little. But it was so much fun!”
  Nozomi’s lips curved faintly, a quiet warmth stirring in her chest.
  “Let’s take a break while we wait,” she suggested, steering them toward a nearby bench.
  Azusa settled beside her, shifting to get comfortable before stretching out with a content sigh.
  “Thank you, Nozomi, for tonight…” she wrote drowsily, her eyelids already beginning to droop. Azusa’s breathing had begun to slow beside her.
  Nozomi’s mind refused to follow suit.
  There was that feeling again.
  An unsettling prickle upon her skin. A presence, lurking out of sight.
  Her eyes swept over the path.
  A few stragglers wandered past. Nothing out of place which could explain her uneasy feeling.
  “Can I get us some drinks while you rest?” she asked, keeping her voice light.
  Azusa gave a slow, sleepy nod.
  “I’ll be quick.”

As Nozomi retrieved a juice can from the vending machine, the sensation deepened. The unseen presence wasn’t just nearby—it was closing in.
  Her skin prickled.
  She turned sharply.
  A white cat sat a few feet away, its amber eyes gleaming with unnatural intelligence.
  “Haku.”
  “Good evening,” it replied breezily, taking a step closer. “You seem to be enjoying yourself tonight.”
  “State your business,” she said coldly.
  “A reminder.”
  Her amber eyes narrowed.
  “Of what?”
  “Unfinished business has a way of catching up to those who try to outrun it.”
  Almost on cue, her phone buzzed.
  Azusa’s name lit the screen.
  Nozomi’s fingers hovered over the answer button. Something in her gut twisted hard, like a thread pulled too tight.
  She turned to Haku, eyes sharp.
  “Is this your idea of a joke?”
  “Answer it.” Haku instructed coolly.
  Nozomi clenched her jaw and raised the phone to her ear.
  “…Azusa?”
  A low chuckle crackled through the speaker. The voice that answered wasn’t hers.
  “Long time no see, Nozomi.”
  The juice can slipped from her hand, hitting the pavement with a clank.
  “…Yamada.”
  She breathed the name aloud—one that had long since faded from her memory.
  “How? You—”
  “Died?” he finished for her, sounding entertained. “You sound surprised. Then again, I suppose you thought you’d never hear from me again.”
  Nozomi’s blood ran cold. She couldn’t comprehend what was happening.
  “Where is Azusa?”
  “Impatient, aren’t we?” Yamada mused. “I was hoping to draw this out a little longer.”
  “If you’ve hurt her—”
  “Relax,” he interrupted. “Your little friend is fine. For now.”
  A certain emotion seethed from within. Anger. Rage. Something she knew little of. But that didn’t matter. She had to act—and fast.
  “What do you want?”
  “I’m borrowing your dear little friend for some company,” he said in provocation. “Come find me. Alone. I’ll send you the location.”
  She opened her mouth to respond—but the line went dead. A second later, a message popped onto the screen.
  An address.
  “Did you know?” she asked the only other creature present in a voice sharp enough to draw blood.
  “I told you—I only observe,” the cat said.
  Nozomi shot a glare at the feline, which remained unfazed.
  “Time is ticking, Nozomi. You’d best hurry.”
  Thinking better than to argue with Haku, she took off with a sprint.
  She knew little of Yamada’s or Haku’s goal, but she couldn’t care less.
  She had to get Azusa back.
  Haku gave its paw a slow, measured lick.
  “Now, what kind of choices will you make tonight?”

*          *          *

“So? What was it you wanted to talk about?”
  We’d wandered farther along the riverbank, away from the heart of the festival. There was hardly a crowd left to speak of, and the food stalls were distant background props now. At this point, the atmosphere had become the only thing setting the scene. I could’ve experienced the most romantic moment of my life—if only my companion wasn’t a middle-aged psychic with half a screw loose and a talent for orchestrated kidnappings.
  Somewhere behind us, a child was probably crying because they dropped their yakisoba. Tragedy came in many forms tonight.
  Chiyo strolled beside me at a leisurely pace, hands folded behind her back, like she hadn’t just dragged me away from my peaceful festival ending for a surprise intervention.
  She stopped near the water’s edge, eyes fixed on the river’s reflection as if it was about to recite a monologue.
  “What of your feelings?” she asked, suddenly—out of the blue, out of context, and very much out of pocket.
  “Excuse me?”
  “I’m asking you what you think about that white-haired classmate of yours.”
  In no world was I prepared for that kind of direct attack. Honestly, if she’d asked me to strip, I’d have been equally confused.
  “Where is this coming from?”
  “Dear boy, do you really think I wouldn’t notice?”
  She spun around and closed the distance between us with far too much speed and elegance for someone about to ruin my night.
  “Let me rephrase my question, then,” she said gently. “What does Nozomi mean to you?”
  “If this is about teasing me again—”
  I trailed off the moment I met her piercing violet eyes. She was looking uncharacteristically serious for some reason.
  I paused, trying to string words together, even though the answer was already waiting behind my teeth.
  “I think… I like her.”
  Chiyo studied me in silence. For a second, I wasn’t sure if she was proud of me or preparing to hit me with a folding fan.
  Instead, she smiled kindly, like my answer wasn’t even noteworthy at all.
  “That’s what I thought.”
  “You’re not surprised?”
  “Admittedly so.” She shrugged. “But that’s not why I brought it up.”
  “Then why?”
  She sighed deeply.
  Not a great sign already.
  “Kaoru. That girl… there’s something concerning her that troubles me.”
  “Okay, sure, she’s different. Probably a little weird and allergic to emotional intimacy—but she’s not—”
  “It’s not that.” Chiyo’s tone sharpened. “I sense the presence of something clinging to her. A shadow that shouldn’t belong. It feels similar to a curse.”
  What, we’re on witchcraft and hexes now? Folklore territory wasn’t exactly inviting—especially when even Chiyo, the self-proclaimed mistress of cryptic exposition, sounded like she was pulling guesses from a hat she stitched herself.
  One bad omen and I’d be a frog. That’s usually how these stories went, right?
  “If I were to be more specific, that girl… her presence reminds me of death.”
  Of course. The nuclear option.
  Straight from the Oracle’s playbook.
  It hit like a slap and a cold shower at the same time, which I suppose is a very efficient way to ruin someone’s night.
  “What does that even mean? Is she going to die?”
  I vaguely remembered her saying something like this about me once. That hadn’t gone badly... so far.
  “I can’t say for certain.” She shook her head sadly. “I doubt it’s just a simple matter of her mortality, but something… beyond that. Her existence is tied to something not of this world.”
  I didn’t have a sarcastic response queued up.
  That alone should’ve told me how bad it was.
  Nozomi was weird, sure. But apparently not the ‘wore her socks inside out on purpose’ kind of weird.
  More like the ‘haunted by the cosmic concept of death’ kind.
  You know. Minor detail.
  Hearing it out loud wasn’t just strange anymore.
  It was fatal.
  “Why bother to tell me this now?”
  Chiyo turned fully toward me, her expression unreadable in the worst possible way.
  “If the time comes when you’re forced to see her for what she really is… will you still be able to look at her the same way?”
  I opened my mouth.
  “I—”
  But the words never left my tongue.
  She said nothing else—just gave me a look that fell somewhere between concern and pity. Then turned away slightly and murmured, almost to herself—
  “Oh, what secrets still reside beyond the shades of the long night?”
  Before I could get a single answer, my phone buzzed. Because of course the universe had saved the worst twist for last.
  > Azusa has been kidnapped.

*          *          *