Lanterns bathed the campus in gold.

Their warm glow shimmered across the trees and walkways, casting soft, flickering light that made everything feel like a dream wrapped in nostalgia. Strings of tiny bulbs swayed between booths. Laughter echoed over the steady thump of taiko drums. Somewhere in the distance, a wind chime jingled with the breeze.

It was the annual spring festival—their last one.

Dylan stood alone for now, camera lifted, one eye in the viewfinder. The lens framed everything—laughter, color, movement. A flash of fireworks above the rooftops. A child twirling with a paper fan. The backlight hitting the curls in Livi’s hair just right.

Click. Click. Click.

Each photo was a snapshot of joy.

So why did he feel so far away?

“You planning on joining us tonight, Sinclair?” Ren’s voice cut through the music. He stood near a mask vendor, lazily spinning a fox mask on one finger. “Or are you married to that camera?”

Dylan lowered the camera slightly, smirking. “You’ll thank me when you’re older and nostalgic.”

“He says that every time,” Ren muttered, nudging Sora beside him.

Sora, quietly amused, said, “He just doesn’t want to forget.”

Before Dylan could answer, a flash of color streaked into his line of sight—Livi, cheeks glowing, yukata sleeves fluttering in motion. She reached out and tugged at his arm.

“Put the camera down,” she said with mock sternness. “It’s festival law. You’re required to have fun.”

“I don’t think that’s in the rules.”

“Then I’m making it a rule.”

Dylan sighed, but a smile tugged at his lips. “Fine. One game.”

Ring Toss & Rabbit Woes

The ring toss booth was chaos.

Lights blinked, children shrieked, and oversized stuffed animals sagged from the top shelf. Livi pointed at a pink stuffed rabbit nearly as tall as her.

“You’re winning me that,” she said confidently.

Dylan picked up the first ring and missed by a mile.

“Maybe I’m rusty,” he mumbled.

“Rusty? You’ve never had aim,” Ren snorted, taking a turn. He landed a ring on the first toss. “Boom.”

Livi squealed as the booth owner handed her the rabbit. “YES! I’m naming him Tuzi Jr.”

Dylan shook his head, grinning. “I was set up.”

“Blame gravity,” Sora deadpanned.

Taiyaki & Memories

Soon after, they stood in line at the taiyaki stand. The scent of batter and melted chocolate filled the air.

“Custard,” Livi said.

“Red bean,” Sora said.

“Sweet potato,” Ren chimed in. “Gotta keep it chaotic.”

“Chocolate,” Dylan added. “Always.”

They sat near the koi pond—its surface glowing with reflections of lanterns and firelight. They laughed over old group photos, inside jokes, and that time Ren fell face-first into the koi pond.

“I trusted that rock,” Ren groaned.

“It betrayed you,” Livi teased.

As the laughter faded into contented silence, a voice in the crowd shouted: “Look!”

The sky shimmered—one brilliant shooting star arcing above the trees. The group fell quiet.

“Wish,” Livi whispered.

They each looked up. Some closed their eyes. Dylan didn’t.

He looked at them—at his friends laughing, soft candlelight flickering in their eyes—and he felt something tight inside his chest.

Please don’t let this slip away, he thought.

The Paper Wish Tree

Dylan wandered from the group for a moment, drawn toward the cherry blossom tree at the far end of the festival square. Dozens of handwritten paper wishes fluttered gently in the breeze, tied with red string.

And there was Hikari.

Standing alone, hands clasped in front of her, reading the wishes. The lanterns painted her face in soft orange tones. She looked like she belonged in a storybook.

Dylan lifted his camera—then paused.

Instead, he stepped beside her.

“Writing something?” he asked.

She looked at him, calm and surprised. “Thinking about it.”

“What’s stopping you?”

She hesitated, then smiled faintly. “The right wish is hard to find. I don’t want to waste it.”

He nodded slowly, gaze shifting to the tree. “Yeah. I get that.”

She turned toward him. “You always try so hard to hold onto everything. Through photos. Through silence. But you never let yourself be in it.”

“I’m scared,” he admitted, eyes still on the paper wishes. “That if I let go… it’ll all pass me by.”

“You can’t stop time, Dylan.”

“But maybe I could slow it down.”

She gently placed a blank wish tag in his hand. “Then start here. Say something you’ve never said before—even if it’s just to yourself.”

Dylan stared at the tag. Then at her. His heart thudded louder than the drums in the background.

He wrote something quickly—then folded the paper instead of tying it.

“You’re not hanging it?”

“Not tonight,” he said.

They stood together under the branches as petals drifted around them.

Then, unexpectedly, Hikari slipped her hand into his.

It was light. Barely there. But it was enough.

Later – By the Shrine

Dylan sat on a bench near the edge of the festival. His camera was still on his lap, unused.

He flipped through the shots from earlier.

Every image was flawless. But they didn’t feel like the real night.

He stared at the screen, then quietly powered the camera off.

“Hey,” Livi’s voice came gently behind him. She sat beside him, rabbit plushie in her lap.

“You okay?” she asked.

“I think so,” Dylan said. “I’m just… not sure I’ll ever be able to explain how this feels.”

Livi nudged his shoulder. “Then don’t explain it. Just live it.”

He smiled quietly, grateful.

When he looked up again, he saw Hikari in the crowd—smiling at him. Not posing. Just existing.

And for the first time in a long time, Dylan didn’t reach for his lens.

He stood up, left the camera on the bench…

…and walked toward her.