Morning light slipped softly through the curtains as Arashi opened his eyes. He pushed himself up with a quiet stretch, rolling his shoulders to shake off the stiffness from sleeping on the floor.
Everything seemed calm.
But when he glanced toward Ayane's bed… he froze.
A tear slid slowly from the corner of her eye as she slept.
Arashi stared for a moment, unsure. Did she have a nightmare? Or maybe it was just a random tear — nothing serious.
He decided not to think too much about it. He stood up quietly and stepped out of the room.
The hallway lights were on again. The power had returned.
He picked up his phone — and immediately raised an eyebrow. Dozens of messages filled the screen. Missed calls, long texts, spam from his entire friend group.
He opened the group chat and sent a single message explaining everything:
"I'm fine. There was a car accident outside. The electric pole fell, and that caused the blackout. Ayane got scared, so I stayed until she fell asleep. Everything's under control."
Once that was handled, he walked to the kitchen and started preparing breakfast. Something simple — toast, eggs, tea. The quietness felt strange after the chaos of the night before.
When breakfast was almost ready, he returned to Ayane's room.
"Ayane," he called gently from the doorway. "Wake up. It's morning."
She didn't react.
He stepped closer. "Hey. Time to get up."
This time her eyes opened slowly. She looked at him, still tired, still quiet.
"You didn't sleep properly, did you?" he asked.
Ayane didn't answer. She simply pushed herself up to sit on the bed, her expression unreadable.
Arashi nodded once. "Alright. I'll go finish setting the table. Come out when you're ready."
He turned to leave.
And the moment he took a step—
Arms wrapped tightly around him from behind.
Ayane held him firmly, her hands gripping his shirt, her forehead resting against his back. There was no hesitation in her touch — only a quiet desperation, as if she couldn't let him walk away.
Arashi froze.
"Ayane…?" he said softly.
Arashi stayed perfectly still, her arms wrapped around him, her forehead resting against his back. He could feel her trembling.
"Ayane… what happened?" he asked quietly.
She didn't answer.
She didn't move.
She just stood there, holding onto him as if letting go would make something collapse inside her.
Arashi didn't pull away — but he also didn't know what to do. He simply waited, giving her the space she needed.
Ayane's thoughts were spinning. This is the perfect moment… I should confess now… I should tell him everything…
But the words wouldn't come.
Her chest tightened, panic rising instead of courage.
In the end, all she managed was a small, fragile whisper:
"Thank you… Arashi."
He blinked, a little confused but gentle as always. "Alright. Okay. Now let go."
Her body stiffened. She immediately released him, stepping back as if waking from a trance.
"S-sorry," she stammered, looking down. "I… I didn't even realize what I was doing. I'm really sorry."
"It's fine," Arashi replied calmly. "No problem. If anything is ever bothering you, you can talk to me… okay?"
Ayane nodded softly. "Yeah… okay."
"Good. Now go get freshened up," he said, heading toward the kitchen. "I'm finishing breakfast."
She quietly hurried to wash up.
A few minutes later, they sat together at the table, eating in calm silence — no tension, no awkwardness, just a quiet morning after an overwhelming night.
Days passed like that.
Gentle, ordinary, steady.
Ayane grew calmer, Arashi stayed the same — grounded, relaxed, steady. The group chat returned to its usual chaos. The house felt normal again.
And before they even realized it…
Only one week remained before summer vacation ended — one week before everyone returned to their old routine, their normal school life, their separate daily schedules.
One week before everything changed again.
Two days later, Arashi was sitting on the couch when his phone suddenly rang. Takumi's name flashed across the screen.
He answered. "Yeah?"
Takumi's loud voice blasted through immediately. "Bro! What's up? How's life?"
Arashi leaned back, unfazed. "Same as always. I'm good."
"Great, great," Takumi said, excitement buzzing in his tone. "Listen — get ready for the firework festival on Wednesday."
Arashi blinked. "Already? Isn't that too soon?"
"Too soon?" Takumi scoffed. "Bro, summer vacation is literally ending. We have barely any time left."
Arashi glanced at the window, realizing how fast the days had passed. "Yeah… you're right. Didn't even notice."
"Time flies, man," Takumi laughed. "Anyway — I was saying, invite Mizuki too. It'll be good for all of us to hang out and get to know each other properly."
Arashi hesitated for a second, then nodded to himself. "Alright. I'll talk to her. And I'll tell Ayane about it too."
"Perfect," Takumi said. "I'll inform the rest of the group. It's going to be fun."
"Alright. See you," Arashi said.
"See ya, bro."
Takumi hung up.
Arashi lowered his phone, staring at the screen for a moment.
Then he sighed lightly.
"Alright… I'll message Mizuki."
He stood up, mind already shifting toward the upcoming festival — and how it might bring everyone together.
Or complicate things even more.
Arashi sat on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, staring at Mizuki's contact name glowing softly on the screen.
He tapped it.
Her chat window opened.
He exhaled.
"Okay… what do I even write?"
He stared at the keyboard for a full ten seconds before typing:
Hey, Mizuki. Are you free on Wednesday?
He read it. Too blunt. Too dry. Too awkward.
He deleted the whole thing.
He tried again.
Hi. There's a festival on Wednesday… wanted to ask if you want to come with me and the others.
He frowned.
That sounds like I'm inviting her on a date or something… no, no, no.
Delete.
He sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. "Why is this so hard? It's just a message…"
He sat up straight again and typed a different version:
We're all going to a firework festival this week. If you want, you can join us.
He read it carefully.
"Hmm… too formal? Feels like I'm sending a school notice."
Delete.
He rubbed his forehead with his knuckles, annoyed at himself.
Another try.
Hey Mizuki, Takumi said to invite you for the firework festival on Wednesday.
Arashi stared.
"Now it sounds like I'm only inviting her because someone told me to… pathetic."
Delete.
He tossed the phone on the bed, exhaled sharply, then grabbed it again.
"Okay… stop overthinking. Just say something normal."
He typed:
Hey, Mizuki.
He paused.
At least that part was fine.
Then slowly, carefully, he added:
There's a firework festival on Wednesday. Everyone is going. Want to come?
He stared at it for a long moment.
Simple. Direct. Not dramatic. Not weird.
He hovered his thumb over the send button.
"…Is this fine?" he whispered to himself.
His thumb wavered.
Then—
He pressed send.
The message flew off instantly, a tiny blue bubble appearing on the screen.
No turning back.
Arashi let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and dropped his phone beside him, falling back onto the bed with a quiet thump.
"Finally," he muttered. "That took way too long."
Arashi's phone buzzes almost the moment he sends the message. Mizuki replies instantly.
Mizuki: "Oh, you meanie. You literally forgot about me. No messages, no calls. Did you find someone else? If yes, at least tell me so I can leave."
Arashi blinks at the screen, confused and slightly panicked.
He starts typing: "No, that's not—"Deletes it.
Types again: "It's not like—"Deletes again.
Finally he sends:
Arashi: "No, it's not like that. TBH… I just don't know how to start conversations."
Mizuki replies within seconds.
Mizuki: "Yeah… figured. "A moment later another message comes: "Okay fine. Then tell me this — what should I wear if I'm going?"
Arashi exhales softly. So she's not actually mad… she's just being her dramatic self again.
He types:
Arashi: "Just wear anything."
There's a short pause.
Then Mizuki sends:
Mizuki: "Anything? And what exactly do you mean by anything?" "Explain."
Arashi's eyes widen. Great… I stepped right into that one.
He quickly replies:
Arashi: "I mean normal clothes. Whatever you're comfortable with. Nothing specific."
A few seconds later, Mizuki texts again.
Mizuki: "Hmm… okay fine." "Actually, let's do one thing." "We'll both wear the same type of outfit."
Arashi frowns at the screen.
Arashi: "Same type? What do you mean?"
She said, "Wear a yukata. A nice one, okay? And tell the others too."
Arashi sighed. "I'll wear one, but I don't know about the rest."
"Even if no one else wears it, you have to." she insisted.
"Alright, fine," he replied. "I'm going now."
"Okay, bye. See you on Wednesday," she messaged back.
Arashi slipped his phone into his pocket and walked toward Ayane's room. She was sitting on her bed, tying her hair when he entered.
"Ayane," he said, "we're all going to the fireworks festival on Wednesday. Be ready."
She nodded lightly. "Okay."
But as Arashi turned to leave, she suddenly called out, "Arashi… by any chance, is everyone going to wear yukatas?"
"Yeah, most probably," he said. "Why? You don't have one?"
She lowered her eyes and shook her head softly. "No… I've never worn one before."
Arashi paused for a moment, then gave a small smile.
"Alright, don't worry. I'll handle it."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
He stepped back toward the door. "Just wait. You'll see."
And with that, he walked out, leaving Ayane staring after him—confused, curious, and with a tiny hint of anticipation in her chest.
After saying that, Arashi stepped out of the room. "I'm going out to buy something," he called from the hallway. "It might take a while, so just wait at home."
Ayane peeked out from her door. "Okay… I'll be here."
Arashi nodded and left the house.
Arashi's Yukata Hunt
He reached the shopping district, weaving through crowded stalls filled with summer festival goods. He had only one goal in mind: find a yukata for Ayane.
But it turned out to be far harder than he imagined.
First shop—too childish. Second shop—too bright and flashy. Third—too plain. Fourth—sizes all wrong. Fifth—prices too high.
Arashi ran a hand through his hair, sighing. Why is choosing a piece of clothing this difficult?
He wanted something simple and elegant, something that matched her quiet, gentle personality.
After nearly an hour, he reached a small traditional boutique tucked in a quiet corner. Still, he couldn't decide between two soft-colored yukatas.
A shop attendant, a girl around his age, noticed his hesitation. "You look… very confused," she said with a small smile.
Arashi exhaled. "Yeah. I'm trying to pick something for someone I know. But I have no idea about yukatas."
She raised an eyebrow. "Is she… someone special?"
Arashi shook his head quickly, a little embarrassed. "No, no. It's not like that. She's… like my sister."
The girl studied him for a moment, then smiled knowingly. "Well, I think I can help. Try this one."
She handed him a soft pastel-colored yukata with delicate floral patterns. Elegant, simple, understated.
Arashi held it carefully in his hands, examining it. This one… seems just right.
"Yeah… I think she'll like it," he said quietly.
"Trust me," the girl said. "It'll suit her perfectly."
Arashi bought it immediately, feeling a quiet satisfaction.
Returning Home
He carried the neatly wrapped yukata carefully all the way back. When he reached the house, he paused at the door for a moment, imagining Ayane's reaction.
Then he stepped inside, determined to give it to her.
He had found the perfect yukata — for someone who mattered to him like family.
Arashi returned home quietly, holding the neatly wrapped yukata. He didn't say a word to Ayane about it. Instead, he went straight to his room and settled in, waiting for her to go to bed.
He watched the clock, his mind occupied not with his own thoughts, but with planning how to give her the yukata without startling her or making things awkward.
Finally, the moment came. Ayane moved to her room, preparing to sleep. Arashi waited until he was sure she had gone inside.
He stepped lightly down the hallway, holding the yukata carefully in both hands. He placed it neatly by her door — where she would see it first thing in the morning — then quietly returned to his own room.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, he let out a small breath, the tension of the evening slowly fading.
And then… he waited.
Waiting for the morning. Waiting to see her reaction. Waiting for the day to begin.