Chapter 50: The Bullet Train to Orihata

The journey to Orihata is less of a trip and more of a social experiment on the brink of catastrophic failure. The five of us, crammed into a row of seats on the bullet train, are a churning vortex of competing agendas and chaotic energy.

Kenji is in full tourist mode. He is a one-man hype machine, providing a loud, non-stop commentary on everything we pass.

"LOOK! A CASTLE!" he screams, his face pressed against the window, startling a sleeping salaryman in the row ahead of us. "A REAL-LIFE SAMURAI CASTLE! Do you think it has ninjas?!"

"That is a water tower, Kenji-kun," Hana says gently.

He is also the official snack provisioner, having bought one of everything from the cart that comes by. "Who wants a dried squid leg? A delicacy! What about this weird, bean-paste-filled mochi that looks like a cartoon bird? We must experience the local culture!"

Miki is trying desperately to work, her laptop balanced on the tiny tray table. She is attempting to finalize our appointment with the weaver, but her concentration is constantly shattered by Kenji leaning over her shoulder. "Hey, Miki-chan, is that Mount Fuji? Ooh, can you look up its exact height? And its volcanic history?"

Miki just closes her eyes for a long moment, takes a deep, cleansing breath, and does not respond.

I am trapped. I am in the window seat, a prisoner of my own poor life choices. Rina is in the seat next to me, using the train's slight jostling as a perfectly plausible excuse to be pressed up against my side. She has, of course, "forgotten" her neck pillow. My shoulder is its designated substitute.

"Onii-chan, you are so warm and comfortable," she whispers, her voice a low murmur that tickles my ear and sends a jolt of pure panic down my spine. "This feels just like a family vacation, does it not? You and me, and our three weird children."

"They are our friends," I hiss back, trying to subtly lean towards the window, but there is nowhere to go. "And you are not my wife."

"Not yet," she hums, a sound of pure, unadulterated triumph.

Hana, bless her heart, is trying to act as a buffer state, nervously offering everyone pieces of chocolate and trying to steer the conversation to safe, neutral topics like the weather. It is not working.

Our arrival in Orihata is a welcome reprieve. The town is even more beautiful than the pictures, a quaint, peaceful oasis that feels a million miles away from the chaos of our lives. The ryokan is a masterpiece of traditional architecture, all dark wood and sliding paper screens.

As Miki is handling the check-in, Kenji, who has been exploring the lobby like an overexcited puppy, lets out a loud gasp. He is pointing at a large, colorful poster taped to the wall.

"GUYS! LOOK!"

We all gather around. The poster is for the annual Orihata Starlight Festival. It depicts a sky filled with brilliant, cascading fireworks exploding over the town's traditional rooftops. And, according to the date printed in bold, festive font, it is happening tomorrow night.

Kenji and Rina explode in a unified shriek of pure joy. Hana is clapping her hands, her eyes wide with delight. Even Miki has a rare, small smile on her face. I am the only one who sees the poster for what it truly is: a harbinger of doom. A romantic, beautiful, traditional festival. It is a perfect, tailor-made backdrop for Rina's campaign of romantic terror. My sense of dread intensifies. This trip is getting more dangerous by the minute.