From Shin:

'Are you ready?'

From Yahiko:

'Yes... Still have some problems with my yukata... Never could tie that waistband right. See yourself'

*a photo sent

From Shin:

'You look funny :)'

From Yahiko:

'-.-'

From Shin:

'Don't worry, my mum can help you once we meet near the temple'

'Don't be late!'

'See you soon'

'<3'

From Yahiko:

'<3'

"Ugh..." The boy groaned, standing in front of the mirror and looking at his waistband that was tied sloppily around. "Whatever. It's time."

He took a small bag and rushed downstairs. 

"Yahiko! How long should I have been waiting for you? I was ready thirty minutes ago, and it took you an eternity to get ready. Come on, Hasegawa family must have already been in the place."

"Wait, gran." Yahiko beamed, coming closer to his grandma and adjusting the hairpin into grey hair. 

"Oh, thank you, my dear. It's always sticking out when I'm trying to make a hairstyle." The gran laughed softly, opening the door and waving for the boy to come out. "Let's go already, don't make them wait!"

Yahiko curled his lips, pretending to hurry. "Coming, coming!"

"I haven't seen Hasegawa family for a while," the gran was mumbling, moving her feet quickly as if trying to make it with the lively street around. "How are they? Shin-chan was a real cutie pie in the childhood. I don't remember how old he was when you first met...?"

Yahiko put his hands together, moving along with his grandma. She was talking all the way to the park till Shin-chan finally appeared on the horizon. 

"Oh, Shin-kun, good evening!" the gran said, waving her hand. 

"Good evening, Oba-sama," Shin answered, holding a treat in his hand. 

"Good evening, Oba-sama." A quiet young voice was heard from below. 

"Good evening!" Gran's voice became sweet as she turned to Shin's younger brother. "And who are you, sweetheart?"

"My name's Ryota Hasegawa," the boy answered. 

"What a cute name!" The gran smiled widely. "Where's your mum and dad?"

"They're there." The boy pointed behind him. 

"Let's go and see them then!" The gran gave her hand to the little boy and turned to Shin, adjusting her hairstyle. "Please, don't call me Oba-sama, I'm not that old! Yukiko-san is fine."

She giggled, asking the young boy to show where his parents were, while Shin and Yahiko could finally walk together. The air smelled with the different kinds of food. The lanterns and lights were everywhere, making the summer evening perfect for spending it outside. 

Yahiko was quiet while his friend was talking all along. He hadn't met Shin since their trip to hot springs. Instead of him, Shin had a big family and lots of worries. Yahiko glanced at him for a moment, seeing a happy smile on his face. 

"Look! There they are!" Shin said, waving to his family and turning his head to Yahiko. "You've been quiet all the way. Everything's alright?"

"Yes, yes," Yahiko smiled softly, hiding his gulp under the happy grimace. 

"Yahiko-kun! It's a pleasure you're here!" Shin's mom exclaimed, hugging the boy warmly. 

"Good evening, Mariko-san." Yahiko bowed a bit after she released him. 

"You're still so polite, there's no need, we're already one big family." The woman beamed. "Come on, let me fix your yukata."

"Thank you." Yahiko turned around, letting the woman adjust the waistband. 

"That's it, done!" She then turned to the others and said, "So, everyone's ready?"

Yahiko’s mom had left long ago, when he was ten. After his father’s death, she met another man – the one who already had a child – and slowly drifted into a new life. At first, she tried to keep in touch, sending him small gifts, asking about school. But little by little, her days grew fuller with that new family, and Yahiko’s place in her world grew smaller.

When she moved abroad, their bond thinned to a string of polite holiday greetings. Later, even that became rare. After that, there were only short New Year messages, a few birthday greetings… and money, always money. Enough to live, but never enough to warm him.

Now, surrounded by the Hasegawas, Yahiko couldn’t help but feel a warmth that didn’t belong to him. Shin’s younger brother tugging on Grandma’s sleeve, Shin’s elder brother speaking gently to their father, their mother laughing while fixing everyone’s clothes. All those small, ordinary gestures filled the evening with a kind of brightness Yahiko had never had at home. It made his chest ache, but also… made him smile.

“Oh, Gran, let me help you,” he said quickly as they climbed the steps to the temple.

“Yahiko, I’m old, but not helpless,” she replied, grumbling as usual, but her hand clutched his firmly.

Yahiko chuckled quietly, pressing his lips together to keep from grinning too wide. This was their family – just him and her, stubborn but strong. And maybe that was enough.

When they knelt, the smell of incense wrapping around them, Yahiko closed his eyes. Over the years, his prayers had become simple, repeating themselves over and over. He didn’t ask for miracles. Only for the strength to live for his own dreams. His status might have written his future in advance, but he prayed that night for the will to carve out another path. To keep walking forward, no matter how heavy his steps became.

The group followed the lantern-lit path down to the riverbank. A soft breeze carried the scent of incense and damp summer grass. Stalls lined the shore, glowing with paper lanterns and brushes set out for Obon wishes.

Shin’s family went first, laughing quietly as they chose their lanterns. Soon everyone scattered across the bank, crouching in small circles to write their messages. Grandma finished hers quickly, her brush strokes sure and graceful.

Yahiko sat on the wooden platform, a blank sheet of paper resting on his knees. But the moment he held the brush, every word fled. His chest tightened.

Who else could he write to except his father?

He tried to summon memories – the warmth of a broad palm on his head, a faint scent of cedar and soap. But the images were like smoke: shifting, thinning. The more he reached for them, the more they dissolved. For the first time, the ritual felt empty, like a door he couldn’t find. His hand trembled above the paper.

A soft hand touched his shoulder. He looked up.

Shin’s mother was there, kneeling beside him with a gentle smile. The lantern light caught in her hair.

“Sometimes no words are needed,” she said. “Those who’ve gone still hear us. The paper is just a bridge we build for ourselves, to feel the connection. But they already know what’s in here.”

Her smile deepened, warm as summer rain. “They are already with you. Always.”

“Mommy! Mommy!” Ryota’s voice rang from the water as his lantern drifted away.

“Yes, I’m coming!” She waved to him, then lowered her voice for Yahiko. “For ourselves. That’s why we write.”

Her footsteps faded into the festival sounds.

Yahiko lowered his gaze to the blank slip. This time, the brush moved easily.

Thank you for watching over me. Please bear with me a little longer. I’ll find my way soon. I love you.

He set the brush down, placed the note inside the lantern, and let it glide onto the river.