[FESTIVAL]

Masaru flinches to consciousness in the gentle warmth of a summer night. Lively shinobue wrap the bright lights and masked crowds in a wreath of sound and harmony.

Gently, he feels along the line of his jaw – everything’s back where it was.

Behind the bench he’s sitting on, he can hear a chorus of insects praising the evening’s ceremonies.

He smiles sadly as he takes a breath of the air, stained wonderfully with the scent of fried octopus mingling with the rich scents of the forest.

Sato’s? Masaru questions as he looks around for a takoyaki stand.

Just at he spots one and prepares to get to his feet, he can hear footsteps next to him.

Turning to his left, he see a takoyaki stick extended to his face like a sword.

“Wha-”

“I got you one,” Valerie says, waving the stick in front of him.

“Oh, thank you!”

He accepts the gift, and the two sit down on the bench, taking in the experience of the festival. He can’t help himself.

“So, what’s this one?” Valerie asks, looking around the banners. “…Masaru?”

She turns to see his mouth already full.

He mumbles a moment, bowing his head in brief apology as he finishes his bite.

“Sorry. It’s been so long,” he admits with a smile.

She gives a curt smirk back before turning back to watch the festival-goers.

He shrugs. “Can’t say for sure.”

Her brow, almost luminescent from the lanternlight, flicks downward. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. There’s tons of these things all across Japan. I don’t know every one.”

She takes a nip of a takoyaki ball with a slow hum. “I’d have thought that a local would know.”

He smiles. “Do you know about every festival that happens in your home country?”

Valerie pauses before taking another bite with an accepting shrug, “Fair enough.”

Masaru glances through the crowd dressed in happi coats, yukata, and more. “So, I meant to ask sooner. Where is it that you c-”

“France,” Valerie says as she takes off her fur-lined jacket.

“Wow, cool.”

“Eh, not really,” she cuts back with. “I like it here better.”

Masaru chuckles as he follows suit and removes his jacket to keep off the evening heat. “Only because you’re a tourist.”

The two exchange an uncertain glance for a moment, then they look elsewhere.

Figures wearing white masks line the streets, none close enough for them to see the Kanji character written on them.

“Uh, anyway,” Masaru says, leaning forward. “I think I know what we’re supposed to do at The Swamp. I think all along we’ve been running from it, preparing, taking advantage of what we have… which in most situations would make sense. Tha-”

“We should focus on Sato right now, don’t you think?” Valerie interrupts with a glace from the side.

Masaru pauses, blinks, and leans back as he takes another nip of his fried octopus.

“You’re right,” he says after swallowing. “Sorry, I get lost in it, sometimes.”

She nods, giving him a gentle pat on the knee. “It’s easy to do when you’re excited,” she says with a sigh.

Just then, they hear a measured drum beat on a float.

“Let’s go!... Let’s GO!” the masked man at the top shouts as he continues to strike the enormous instrument.

Like a divine wind, the resounding “LET’S GO!” from the entire crowd nearly blows Masaru back into his seat. The shopkeepers, those in the parade, and the audience all shout it back in perfect unison as a team of masked men rush up to the tallest float and begin picking up singular logs, each one tied down with the name of a god or goddess.

“Hate to be one of them,” Masaru thinks with a smirk as he watches the large men struggle under the wooden totems. He squints as he notices shopkeepers pulling back their stands or collapsing them altogether.

“Kind of weird that they’d stop selling during the main event,” Masaru observes.