I woke up on Festival Day to sunlight streaming through my dorm window and the sound of my phone buzzing.
Group Chat: Memory Garden Squad
Taichi (6:32 AM): FESTIVAL DAY! WHO'S READY TO MAKE HISTORY?!
Ren (6:33 AM): Some of us are still sleeping, Taichi.
Taichi (6:33 AM): Not anymore!
Kouta (6:34 AM): why are you awake this early
Taichi (6:34 AM): FESTIVAL ENERGY! Also I wrote a theme song
Saya (6:35 AM): Please tell me you're joking
Taichi (6:35 AM): Memory Garden, gonna make you remember! Festival magic, nothing's better!
Miyu (6:36 AM): That's... actually kind of catchy? š
Airi (6:37 AM): Everyone meet at 7:30 for coffee before setup?
I grinned at my phone and typed back: On my way.
6:45 AM. I had time for a proper morning routineāsomething I'd started doing since this whole dream began. Shower, actual breakfast instead of convenience store pastries, maybe even check if my hair looked decent.
My bracelet sat quiet on my wrist as I got ready, but I swear it felt... excited? Could jewelry feel excited?
Probably not the weirdest thing that's happened to me lately.
Campus looked like it had been attacked by a very organized army of students with color-coordinated banners.
The main quad buzzed with controlled chaosābooth construction, sound checks, and what appeared to be a minor territorial dispute between the Drama Club and the Astronomy Society over prime real estate near the fountain.
"Gentlemen, ladies," Professor Daizen's voice carried over the noise, "remember that the goal is collective harmony, not conquest."
I spotted our setup area and felt my jaw drop. Somehow, overnight, our Memory Garden concept had transformed into something that looked almost... professional. Ren stood in the center with a clipboard, directing operations like a festival general.
"Yuuma!" Kouta waved me over. "Come settle a debate. Taichi thinks the Poetry Corner needs more 'ambiance lighting,' but I'm pretty sure he just wants an excuse to play with the fancy LED strips."
"They're *mood-enhancing*," Taichi protested, tangled in what looked like a mile of colored wire. "Poetry is about emotion!"
"Poetry is about words," Saya said dryly, emerging from behind the Art Wall with paint-stained fingers. "The LEDs are overkill."
"Where's Airi?" I asked, looking around.
"Stress-organizing the supply station," Rika said with fond exasperation. "She's arranged the paintbrushes by size, color, *and* emotional resonance, apparently."
I found Airi kneeling beside a table covered in art supplies, muttering to herself while sorting markers into increasingly complex patterns.
"Hey," I said softly.
She looked up, and I was relieved to see her smile looked genuine. Tired, but genuine.
"Hey yourself." She gestured at her organizational masterpiece. "Think I'm overthinking this?"
"Just a little," I grinned. "But in the most adorable way possible."
She blushed, then threw a marker at me. "Shut up and help me with the Playlist Station."
By 10 AM, the Memory Garden was officially open, and I understood why Airi had been stress-organizing.
It was working.
People drifted through our installation like they'd been waiting their whole lives for permission to share their stories. The Memory Wall filled with handwritten notesāsome funny, some heartbreaking, all real. The Poetry Corner had a actual line of students waiting to read their pieces. Even the Art Collaboration wall was covered in collaborative drawings that ranged from surprisingly beautiful to hilariously terrible.
"Is that supposed to be a cat?" I asked, pointing at a purple blob someone had added to a landscape.
"I think it's abstract emotion," Miyu said seriously, then giggled. "Or maybe a really fat cat."
Airi appeared at my elbow, practically vibrating with energy. "Did you see the Photo Booth line? And Professor Okabe is using our Playlist Station for her Creative Writing class! Andā"
"Breathe," I laughed, catching her hands. "It's amazing. *You're* amazing."
Her cheeks went pink, but she didn't pull away. "We did this together."
"Yeah," I said, suddenly aware that we were holding hands in public and I didn't care even a little bit. "We did."
"Get a room!" Taichi called from the Poetry Corner, where he was apparently serving as an enthusiastic MC. "Next up, we have Kimura-san reading her piece about... *unrequited love*!"
Airi and I separated, both laughing and embarrassed.
"I'm going to kill him," she muttered.
"Get in line," I grinned.
The afternoon flew by in a blur of happy chaos.
Kei manned the sound booth with quiet efficiency, adjusting volumes and managing the surprisingly complex audio needs of seven different activity stations. Ren maintained order with his clipboard, somehow managing to be everywhere at once. Kouta charmed visitors into participation with his easy smile and terrible jokes.
And Airi... Airi was everywhere. Encouraging shy students at the Poetry Corner, helping kids with their collaborative art, explaining the Memory Wall concept to curious professors. She moved through the crowd like she was conducting an orchestra, bringing out the best in everyone around her.
I was so busy watching her that I almost missed Professor Daizen approaching.
"Remarkable," he said, nodding toward the bustling installation. "I've been observing for an hour, and the engagement level is extraordinary."
"Airi designed the whole emotional flow," I said automatically. "I just helped with logistics."
"Ah, but collaboration is its own art form," he mused. "The way you two work together... it reminds me of my own festival experiences, many years ago."
Something in his tone made me look at him more carefully. "You did something like this?"
"In my youth, yes. A project about connection and memory." His eyes twinkled. "Though I didn't have the benefit of such... interesting accessories."
He nodded toward my wrist, where my bracelet had started glowing softly.
I tried to pull my sleeve down, but he waved dismissively. "No need to hide it, young man. Some things are meant to be noticed."
Before I could ask what that meant, he'd wandered off toward the Poetry Corner, leaving me staring after him in confusion.
Interesting accessories?
What the hell did that mean?
---
By evening, the official festival activities were winding down, but the energy was still electric. Someone had set up a bonfire in the open area behind the quad, and students were gathering with guitars, snacks, and the kind of satisfied exhaustion that comes from a successful event.
"Memory Garden statistics," Ren announced, consulting his clipboard. "Four hundred and thirty-seven participants, sixty-two poetry readings, over two hundred Memory Wall contributions, and approximately one million photos taken."
"You counted the photos?" Saya asked skeptically.
"I estimated," Ren admitted. "But conservatively."
"The important thing," Rika said warmly, "is that people loved it. I saw students crying happy tears at the Memory Wall."
"And laughing until they couldn't breathe at the Poetry Corner," Miyu added. "Especially when Taichi read that limerick about cafeteria food."
"That was art!" Taichi protested. "Satirical commentary on institutional cuisine!"
"That was five minutes of you rhyming 'mystery meat' with increasingly ridiculous phrases," Kouta grinned.
I found myself scanning the group for Airi, and realized she wasn't there.
"Where'sā" I started.
"She went to clean up the art supplies," Kei said quietly. "About ten minutes ago."
I stood up. "I'll go help her."
"Take your time," Rika said with a meaningful smile. "We'll keep the fire warm."
I found Airi in the art building, sitting on the floor surrounded by paint containers and brushes, staring at nothing.
"Hey," I said softly. "You okay?"
She looked up and smiled, but it was tired. "Just... processing. Today was a lot."
"Good a lot or overwhelming a lot?"
"Both." She gestured at the space around her. "I keep thinking about all the stories people shared. All the connections that happened. It's beautiful and terrifying at the same time."
I sat down beside her, close enough that our shoulders touched. "Why terrifying?"
"Because it's real," she said quietly. "For months, I've been dreaming about creating something meaningful. And today... today it actually happened. People opened up. They shared pieces of themselves. They connected."
"That's what you wanted, isn't it?"
"Yes. But now I'm scared I'll never be able to create something this meaningful again." She leaned against my shoulder. "What if this was my one moment? What if I peaked at nineteen?"
I couldn't help itāI burst out laughing.
"Hey!" she protested, but she was smiling too.
"Sorry, sorry," I gasped. "It's just... you're worried about peaking? Airi, today was incredible, but it's not your *one* moment. It's your *first* moment."
"How do you know?"
"Because I've seen what you can do. I've watched you take a random group of college students and turn them into a team. I've seen you design experiences that make people feel seen and understood. That's not luck, that's *talent*. And talent doesn't just disappear."
She was quiet for a moment, then: "When did you become so wise?"
"Must be all the philosophy classes," I said solemnly. "Very educational."
She laughed, and the sound filled the quiet art building with warmth.
"Come on," I said, standing and offering her my hand. "There's a bonfire with our names on it. And I'm pretty sure Taichi is going to attempt another musical performance."
"Oh god," she groaned, but she took my hand and let me pull her up. "We have to stop him."
"We have to record him," I corrected. "For blackmail purposes."
The bonfire was perfect.
Someone had brought marshmallows and chocolate. Kei had his guitar and was playing soft melodies that drifted through the warm night air. Our entire group clustered around the flames, faces lit orange and content.
Airi sat beside me on a log, close enough that I could feel her warmth. Every so often, she'd lean over to comment on somethingāTaichi's increasingly elaborate campfire stories, Rika's patient teaching of Miyu how to make the perfect s'more, Saya and Kouta's ongoing debate about whether hot dogs or marshmallows were the superior campfire food.
"This is nice," she said quietly, during a lull in conversation.
"Yeah," I agreed. "Peaceful."
"I never thought I'd have something like this. A group of people who just... fit."
I looked around at our friendsāRen adding logs to the fire with scientific precision, Taichi trying to convince everyone that ghost stories were "essential for proper campfire ambiance," the girls laughing at some joke I'd missed.
"Me neither," I said honestly.
My bracelet pulsed warm against my wrist. Not urgent or mysterious this time. Just... content. Like it was happy too.
"Hey," Airi said, touching my arm. "Look up."
I tilted my head back and my breath caught. The sky was impossibleāstars scattered like diamonds against black velvet, the Milky Way actually visible despite the city lights.
"Wow."
"I know, right? It's like the universe decided to put on a show just for us."
We sat in comfortable silence, necks craned back, just watching the stars. Around us, conversation had died down to murmurs and the soft crackle of the fire.
"Make a wish," Airi whispered.
"On what?"
"Everything. The stars, the fire, the perfect day. Make a wish."
I closed my eyes and tried to think of something to wish for. But as I sat thereāAiri warm beside me, friends around us, the taste of success still sweet in my mouthāI realized I didn't need to wish for anything.
For the first time in my life, I was exactly where I wanted to be.
"What did you wish for?" I asked.
"That's cheating," she said, but she was smiling. "You're not supposed to tell."
"Come on. Just a hint."
She was quiet for so long I thought she wouldn't answer. Then: "I wished for more moments like this. More nights where everything feels possible."
"That's a good wish."
"What about you?"
"I didn't wish for anything," I admitted.
"Why not?"
I looked at herāface lit by firelight, eyes reflecting stars, expression soft with contentmentāand felt something settle deep in my chest. Something that felt like home.
"Because I already have everything I want," I said quietly.
Her breath caught, and for a moment the space between us felt charged with something bigger than words. Then Taichi's voice cut through the moment:
"Okay, everyone! Time for the *real* entertainment. I've prepared a dramatic reading of my festival journal!"
"No," Saya said immediately.
"Absolutely not," Rika agreed.
"Please," Miyu giggled. "It'll be funny!"
Airi and I looked at each other and burst out laughing.
"This is going to be terrible," she whispered.
"Completely awful," I agreed.
"I can't wait."
As Taichi launched into what could only be described as a performance art piece about his "emotional journey through festival preparation," complete with dramatic gestures and questionable sound effects, I felt my bracelet pulse one more time.
Warm. Content. Perfect.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
But for once, the countdown didn't feel ominous. It felt like anticipation.
Like something wonderful was about to begin....