Fireworks

Sato, the woman in the pinstripe suit, led Noa through the crowds of festival-goers and into one of the tents that he'd helped set up earlier that afternoon. 

The inside was bustling with people—more people in suits clustered around the tables on one side of the tent, and many of the other volunteers setting up seats. 

"Wait here," Sato told him, and then walked off. Noa looked around, getting his bearings, and was spotted by Kenshin, who elbowed his way over to him. 

"Hey, Noa-kun!" he said. "How're you holding up? I'm wiped. I hope they're about to feed us or something—even if we could just sneak off, there was no way I was paying for that much food. Also, hey—did you know Miyori's here?" 

Noa blinked. He must be more tired than he thought—keeping up with Kenshin's nervous chatter was difficult. "Is she?" 

"Yeah, I saw her with a really cute girl—probably one of her classmates, so I shouldn't be too creepy about it, huh? Anyway, I didn't want to embarrass her so I didn't try to get her attention. Are you the one that told her about this?" 

"Nope," Noa said. He was watching the people setting up chairs. "Think we should help out?" 

"If I have to lift one more thing, I'm going to fall over," Kenshin said. Apparently he was the type to get more talkative when tired. "I haven't kept up human size for this long in weeks. I don't know how you people do it, being this big all the time." 

"Snacks help," Noa said dryly. Watching Miyori had taught him that fairly quickly, though she seemed to want to stay in denial about it. 

"That's why I'm hoping they're about to feed us. Oh, people are sitting down." 

"I'll get us chairs," Noa said. He crossed to the rack of folding chairs and retrieved two, setting them up in formation with the others. 

There were a little more than a dozen of them in the tent—crowded for the tent's size, but only about half of the original volunteer team. The others were probably helping. 

There were almost as many people in suits, but they all fell back behind the tables where they'd been working and let Sato do the talking. 

"Everyone." As she stepped forward, the volunteers quieted, taking their seats. "Thank you so much for your help today. You've worked hard, and you deserve a chance to rest. That's why we've brought you here—to have some light refreshments and catch your breath before tonight's last push." 

Kenshin let out a quiet cheer. Noa kept an eye on the other pinstripe-suited people. It looked like they were, indeed, dishing up plates of refreshments. 

"Let us be the ones to serve you, for once," Sato said, and true to her word picked up a couple of little plates. "Enjoy your break—eat, drink, and relax. We'll let you know when we need you next." 

Small plates with snacks were passed out. Noa passed the first one he received to Kenshin first, and Kenshin barely managed a quick, "Thanks," before digging in. 

Noa examined the contents of his plate—olives, cheese cubes, a stick of mitarashi dango, and a selection of senbei. Resting on the plate was a small, oddly metallic-looking toothpick. 

Noa picked up the toothpick between his fingers and rolled it experimentally. It was smoother than he was used to. 

The food matched the standard of the event—in other words, it was fancier than felt warranted under the circumstances. As they ate, the people in suits handed out small paper cups of tea to wash down the food. 

Kenshin was done with his plate in about a minute, and Noa, rather than commenting, just offered the rest of his. Kenshin, to his credit, did briefly ask if Noa meant it before starting to pick his plate clean as well. 

Noa couldn't quite overcome his discomfort. The people in suits, their jobs done, were now just…standing, watching them. A couple would occasionally murmur something to each other. They wore these odd smiles that might have been politeness, or might have been mockery. 

Nervous, he rolled his toothpick over and over in his fingers. Strangely, something snagged against the side of his thumb.
He held it up, examining it closely. He'd thought it was perfectly smooth, but near the top there was an odd imperfection. 

Bringing it very close to his eye, he saw that it wasn't a crack or a flaw, as he'd thought, but an engraving. An engraving of—

With no warning, the spell-lights that had ringed the top of the tent went out. In the breath of surprise before anyone could comment, Noa heard a word—a word that hummed with the power of magic.
"Drink," said Sato. 

The pick slipped from Noa's hand. But instead of clattering to his plate, it jabbed itself into his forearm. 

There was a hot, sharp stab of pain. The pick laid itself against his skin, a line of cold. Noa grabbed at it, but it slid between his fingers. 

And then… 

Lights. Lights bursting over Noa's head like the middle of a fireworks show. Lights that wouldn't fit in the tent, but that he was seeing anyway—fireworks drawing themselves against the insides of his eyelids.

When had he closed his eyes?

If he focused, he could hear exclamations and applause—dim. Outside the tent. But inside it was dark and quiet. 

The fireworks made no sound at all. If they were close, they should have been deafening. If they had been farther away, they should have echoed and reverberated. So they weren't real, were instead a magical illusion. 

A massive magical illusion. That Noa was seeing for...some reason.

Noa was so tired, but he couldn't let go of his questions. He forced himself to stay awake, stay thinking, consider what had just happened—

The pain in his arm. The spell. The light show. 

Volunteers called in here to hold those odd little toothpicks, just before the highlight of the evening. 

Again and again, the same symbol. 

People in suits. 

Volunteers gathered from the streets—people less likely to be missed. 

Noa forced his eyes open, fumbling for the magical needle that had embedded itself in his arm. He finally got a firm grip on it, and tugged at it as hard as he could. 

Overhead, just one of the dozen lights in the sky flickered and went dark before its time. 

Sato's head turned. Her eyes met his. She stepped towards him. 

Noa ripped the needle from his arm and threw up his hand in a wordless spell, willing her away from him. 

Sato stumbled backwards, but several other suits' heads turned towards him. 

Noa stood up from his seat, letting his plate and the needle fall to the ground, and ran for the tent's entrance.

As he cleared it, he heard Sato's voice, the only sound in the otherwise quiet tent. "Stop him!"