10

Mr. Nakano finally pushed himself off the front desk, clapping his hands once. The sound cut clean through the chatter.

“Alright, sounds like we’ve got something resembling a plan,” he said. “A mini-festival it is. You’ve got plenty of time after class to argue about the details, so don’t burn all your energy now.”

A few students chuckled, Yuuto being the loudest.

Mr. Nakano went on. “If you need anything from the school — space, supplies, permission slips — come find me. I’ll pretend to care and then actually take care of it.”

That earned another wave of laughter.

“Now,” he said, reaching for the chalk. “Open your books. Geography. Let’s see if any of you can find Japan on a map without help.”

Groans filled the room as the chatter died and pages flipped reluctantly open.

I straightened my notebook, pencil in hand, and tried to shake off the buzz from the earlier discussion. A mini-festival. Skits, quizzes, music, food. Everyone seemed excited.

Now, though, it was just me, my half-doodled notes, and Nakano-sensei’s voice filling the room.

Mr. Nakano drew a rough circle on the board. It was lopsided, nowhere near an actual globe.

“This,” he said, “is Earth. Don’t quote me on the shape. I teach geography, not art.”

A couple of laughs broke out.

“Now, someone tell me where Japan is.”

Yuuto shot his hand up before anyone else could even think. “Here!” he shouted, jabbing at the bottom corner of the page in his textbook.

“That’s Australia,” Mr. Nakano deadpanned.

The class burst into laughter. Yuuto bowed dramatically in his seat like he’d meant to do it all along.

I shook my head and pretended to copy notes, though my pen wasn’t moving much. My attention had drifted to the seat on my right.

Haruka was leaning slightly over her notebook, her pen moving in neat, steady strokes. Her expression was calm, focused, like the noise around her didn’t even touch her. The sunlight through the window caught in her hair, giving it a faint glow.

I looked away quickly, scribbling something that wasn’t even related to geography.

It wasn’t that I liked her. Not yet, anyway. But there was something about the way she carried herself — unbothered, quiet, like she was on a different wavelength from the rest of us.

Maybe that’s why my thoughts kept drifting back to her, even when I tried to focus on the lesson.

“Oi, Sakamura,” Mr. Nakano’s voice snapped me back.

“Yes?” I straightened.

“Where’s the Sea of Japan?”

I froze.

“…Near Japan?”

The whole class laughed again, and I sank into my seat.

Yeah. Geography was going to be a long hour.

Finally, the bell rang. The sound cut through Mr. Nakano’s droning about river systems, and the room relaxed like it had all been holding its breath.

Instead of the usual stampede toward the cafeteria, most of us stayed seated. Shohei stood up, stretching his arms.

“I’ll head to the canteen and grab some snacks for us,” he said, his voice calm but clear. “That way, we can keep talking about the festival here.”

A few people nodded in agreement.

Before he could leave, a girl from the far side of the room walked over. Short twin tails, pink streak in her hair, and a bag decorated with cartoon stickers. I vaguely remembered her name from roll call. Mei Tsukino.

“I’ll help carry,” she said brightly.

Shohei blinked, then smiled, scratching his head again. “Thanks, that’d make it easier.”

And just like that, the two of them headed out together, leaving the rest of us behind in the classroom.

Shohei and Mei hadn’t even returned with the snacks yet when the groups naturally started to take shape. It was like the ideas we’d thrown around earlier had been waiting for a place to settle.

Yuuto stood on his desk like he was already performing for an audience. “Ladies and gentlemen, your laughter is my oxygen! The comedy show is mine.”

“Do you need help breathing?” Daiki asked, deadpan.

Yuuto pointed at him dramatically. “Yes! You, my sturdy straight man. Together, we will bring the house down!”

Daiki just sighed. “Sure. Why not. Beats studying.”

Everyone chuckled, and just like that, the comedy team was set.

On the other side of the room, Haruka raised her hand softly. “I’ll do music.”

Reina Kisaragi, the elegant girl who always looked like she belonged in a painting, nodded. “I play piano. I’ll join.”

From the back, the boy with headphones finally looked up from whatever world he was in. “I can handle mixing. Got some equipment at home.”

“Tetsuya Okabe,” Rika reminded the class, in her usual flat tone.

He gave a little shrug like he didn’t care if we remembered or not. Still, with him added, the music team felt complete — Haruka’s voice, Reina’s piano, Tetsuya’s tech.

Then Aoi clapped her hands. “Cooking for me, obviously. But we’ll need more than one person to make it work.”

I raised my hand, reluctantly. “Guess I’ll help.”

Her smile widened. “Knew it.”

Before I could change my mind, the quiet figure on my left spoke for the first time that day.

“…I’ll join too.”

Everyone turned. The guy who hadn’t said a word since yesterday, stared ahead like it was no big deal.

“Takumi Kanzaki,” Rika reminded the class, in her usual flat tone.

“You? Cooking?” Yuuto said, half laughing.

Takumi didn’t even glance at him. “It’s fine.”

So now it was Aoi, me, and Takumi. Somehow.

That left the quiz.

“I’ll prepare it,” Rika said simply.

“I’ll assist,” Yuuji added from the back, spinning his wheels a little closer. “Can’t let her make it boring.”

Rika shot him a sharp look, but there was no real venom in it. Their rivalry already looked like its own kind of performance.

Then, Satoshi raised his hand and he too join the Quiz team.

And just like that, the room had divided itself. Four little corners of the festival. Four teams.

I sat back, watching it all come together.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

To Be Continued