Rin had dominated the race, her breathing steady despite the water dripping from her bangs. The others were still recovering when she turned toward Eadlyn with a strangely calm expression, her usual sternness softened by the water's glow.
"Hey, Eadlyn..." she began, her voice softer than usual, almost hesitant. "Back when you were living in the UK... did you ever know any girl in your neighborhood? Someone you used to play with?"
The question came out of nowhere. Eadlyn blinked, caught between confusion and mild embarrassment. The waterfall's mist hung in the air between them, the sound of rushing water filling the silence. He rubbed the back of his neck, considering how to answer.
"Uh... well, yeah," he said finally. "There was Lily. We used to play sometimes. But honestly, it's been so long I barely remember."
Ken, who was squeezing water out of his hair nearby, burst into laughter. "Man, Rin, what kind of interrogation is that?"
Manami teased with a grin, nudging Eadlyn's shoulder. "Rin, you sound like you're checking his dating history."
Rin shot them both a glare, her cheeks faintly red. "I was just asking. Don't assume anything weird."
Eadlyn watched her carefully, noticing the way her fingers tightened slightly around the edge of her towel. There was something beneath her question—something more than curiosity. A quiet vulnerability, maybe, or the faint echo of a memory she wasn't ready to name.
"I didn't assume anything," Manami said gently, her voice cutting through the tension. "But now I'm curious too. What was she like, this Lily?"
Eadlyn hesitated, then shrugged. "Just a neighbor. We played in the park sometimes. Nothing special."
But the way Rin's eyes flickered at his answer made him wonder if there was more to her question than she was letting on.
Evening Preparations
With the sun lowering behind the mountains, they decided it was time to head back to the campsite. The waterfall's cool mist clung to their skin as they gathered their belongings, the air growing pleasantly crisp as evening settled in.
Back at the clearing, the group worked together to prepare dinner. Eadlyn, having barbecued with his parents before, took the lead.
"Manami, can you prep the veggies? Rin, help with the table. Ken, firewood?"
Ken saluted dramatically. "Yes, chef!"
Rin rolled her eyes but followed instructions without complaint. Manami hummed softly while cutting ingredients, her calm presence balancing the dynamic tension between Ken's antics and Rin's seriousness.
Eadlyn directed Ken on how to stack the wood for proper airflow, their hands working in sync as they ignited the grill. Soon, the rich aroma of sizzling meat filled the air, mixing with the scent of pine and earth.
Rin added soy sauce at the perfect moment, her movements precise. "That's Eadlyn's favorite, right?" she said casually, though her ears pinked slightly.
He froze, surprised. "Wait—you remembered?"
She looked away quickly, hiding a tiny smile. "You mentioned it once. I'm not careless."
Ken and Manami exchanged mischievous glances but wisely kept quiet.
The meal turned out perfect—juicy meat, crisp vegetables, and the kind of laughter that only comes from shared exhaustion and joy. They talked, complained, teased, and laughed as the sun melted into the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple.
Ken's Moment to Shine
After dinner, as the first stars began to appear, Ken stepped forward with an excitement he usually reserved for basketball games.
"Now it's my time!" he announced, rubbing his hands together. "Stargazing!"
He set up his telescope with surprising expertise, adjusting the lenses and aligning the tripod with the precision of someone who had done this many times before. The others watched, impressed by how natural he looked handling the equipment.
Ken rarely talked about himself, but here—beneath the vast, endless sky—he relaxed, his usual energy replaced by something quieter, more thoughtful.
"Stars remind me that the world's bigger than whatever stress we've got," he said, his voice soft but sure. "They just... exist. Distant. Patient. Like they're waiting for us to notice them."
It was the most philosophical anyone had ever heard him sound.
One by one, they took turns looking through the telescope. The moon glowed in a pale blue tint, its craters sharp and clear. Constellations glittered in patterns invisible from the city, their stories written in light. Ken snapped photos with his phone, the screen capturing details their eyes couldn't.
Manami admired the images quietly, her fingers tracing the screen as if she could touch the stars themselves. Rin leaned in with genuine curiosity, her usual sternness softened by wonder. Eadlyn watched his friends—their silhouettes framed by starlight—and felt something warm settle in his chest.
This was the kind of memory he'd always wanted. Something simple. Something real.
Nightfall
When the stars brightened fully, they finally set up their two tents—girls in one, boys in the other. The forest hummed with distant insects, the night cool enough to make them snuggle into their sleeping bags.
Under that endless sky, they drifted into sleep—hearts full from the day's adventures, unaware that tomorrow would test them in ways none expected.
But for now, there was only the quiet rustle of leaves, the distant call of a night bird, and the knowledge that some bonds don't need words to be real.
Diary Entry – June 20th (Night)
I didn't expect today to end like this.
We swam. We raced. We ate under the stars. Simple things, but they felt like something more.
Rin asked about Lily. I don't know why it mattered to her, but it did. There was something in her voice—like she was trying to place a puzzle piece she couldn't see. I wonder if she's ever been to the UK. I wonder if she's ever met someone who reminded her of home.
Manami remembered my favorite sauce. That's the kind of thing that sticks with you—not because it's grand, but because it's * hers*. She notices things. Small things. The kind of things that make you feel like someone's really seeing you.
Ken talked about stars like they were old friends. I've never heard him so serious. There's more to him than jokes and energy. There's something deeper, something that makes him look at the sky like it's telling him a story.
I used to think belonging was about being the best or the funniest or the most important. But today, I realized it's about the moments when you don't have to be any of those things. When you can just be, and it's enough.
The fire's embers are still glowing. The stars are still there. And for the first time in a long time, I don't feel like I'm waiting for something to start.
I think it already has.