The festival night smelled like sugar and smoke.
Stalls lined the street, glowing with paper lanterns. Music drifted in uneven waves, laughter folding into the warm air.
Mio was already dragging me toward the food stands.
"Takoyaki first," she declared. "End-of-summer rules."
Yuna laughed behind us. Ren walked beside her, close enough that their arms brushed now and then.
Neither of them pulled away.
The fireworks didn't start right away.
So we filled the time with small things.
Shared drinks. Sticky fingers. Silly prizes from rigged games.
For a while, it almost felt like the countdown didn't exist.
Almost.
When the first firework exploded overhead, everyone gasped at once.
Light bloomed across the sky, reflected in Yuna's eyes.
Ren leaned closer. "Pretty."
She nodded. "But short."
"Does that make it worse?"
She shook her head. "It makes it honest."
The sky kept breaking open.
Gold. Blue. White.
Each burst lasted only seconds—but demanded complete attention.
Mio wiped her eyes. "I'm not crying. The smoke is just aggressive."
I didn't tease her.
Some lies deserve to stay unchallenged.
Ren and Yuna drifted a little away from us, standing near the riverbank.
I watched from a distance.
They stood shoulder to shoulder, not touching, sharing the same silence.
"I wish this could last," Ren said quietly.
"It is lasting," Yuna replied. "Just not forever."
He exhaled. "I hate how calm you are about that."
"I'm not calm," she said. "I'm just choosing not to run."
The final firework rose slower than the rest.
Then exploded brighter.
Louder.
And when the echoes faded, the sky went dark all at once.
People clapped. Cheered. Moved on.
Yuna stayed still.
"So that's one," she said softly.
Ren nodded. "One."
On the way home, Mio linked her arm with Yuna's.
"No disappearing tonight," she said. "You're staying."
Yuna smiled. "I promise."
Later, alone in my room, I wrote:
Some moments don't ask to be remembered.
They demand it.
The countdown continued.
Nine days left.