The class president — a tall, serious-looking boy with tidy hair and kind eyes named Daichi Sakamoto — stood at the front, holding a clipboard. His voice rose above the chatter.

“Everyone, listen up! The school festival for welcoming our new students is officially set for next Saturday. That’s one week from now. Each class has to prepare something unique — an event or attraction that will entertain not just the first-years, but also their families.”

His words sent a ripple of excitement through the room.

“You’ll form teams of five to seven members. Start planning today so we can submit ideas by Wednesday!”

The classroom erupted.

“Let’s do a haunted house!” someone shouted.

“No, no, a maid café! It always works!”

“Idiot, that’s been done a hundred times!”

“We could do a magic show!”

The room filled with noisy debates and laughter. Outside the window, the sun cast a warm golden glow, and a breeze stirred the green leaves and scattered petals in the courtyard.

Amid the chaos, Aoi sat quietly, fingers fidgeting with the edge of her desk. Her gaze flicked to Ren, who was pretending to study his notebook to avoid being pulled into one of the louder groups.

Should I ask him? she thought, feeling her heart beat faster. It’s just a team. It’s normal. Right?

Summoning her courage, she stood. The sound of her chair scraping the floor seemed impossibly loud to her ears. She crossed the aisle to Ren’s desk, her steps small and careful.

“Um… Ren-kun?” Her voice was soft, almost lost in the noise, but Ren heard it like it was the only sound in the room.

He looked up, surprised. “Aoi-san?”

She clasped her hands behind her back, trying to hide her nervousness. “Would you… like to team up? For the festival, I mean.”

Ren blinked, then smiled, warmth blooming in his chest. “I’d like that.”

Before he could say more, Haruto plopped down at Ren’s desk with a grin. “I’m in too! No way I’m missing this.”

Mina appeared at Aoi’s side, linking arms with her. “Of course I’ll join! Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you two.”

Just then, another girl — a cheerful, artistic type with short hair and bright eyes — waved from nearby. Yui Nakamura, Aoi’s friend since middle school.

“Hey, can I join your team?” Yui asked. “I’m hopeless at deciding, and you guys seem fun.”

So, their group of five formed — Ren Takahashi, Aoi Fujimura, Haruto Ishikawa, Mina Sugiyama, and Yui Nakamura.

They gathered around Ren’s desk, pulling over chairs and leaning in, their heads close. Outside, the late afternoon light bathed the room in soft amber, and the chatter of other groups filled the air like birdsong.

Mina tapped her pencil against her notebook. “Okay, so what are we going to do? It’s gotta be unique. No haunted house, no café, no fortune telling — that’s boring.”

Haruto stretched his arms behind his head. “Let’s do a game booth. Like, something cool. Maybe… goldfish scooping?”

Yui rolled her eyes playfully. “That’s traditional, but not unique, Haru. Everyone does that. What if we made an art corner? Like, let the kids paint little charms or masks to take home.”

Aoi’s eyes brightened. “That sounds sweet… But would it be exciting enough for first-years?”

Ren listened quietly, watching the way the sun lit the soft strands of Aoi’s hair. Finally, he spoke.

“What about combining ideas? Like… a festival stall where kids can win or make something. Maybe small games, and they earn a chance to decorate their own prize. Masks, or mini fans, or something.”

Mina clapped her hands. “Oh! That sounds cute! And we can wear festival yukata to match!”

Haruto groaned but grinned. “I’ll only do it if I get to pick my pattern. I’m not wearing something with flowers.”

Yui laughed. “But you’d look so cute with flowers, Haruto.”

The group fell into easy banter, tossing ideas back and forth as the classroom buzzed around them. Other teams argued or laughed loudly. Daichi made his way from desk to desk, checking in on progress.

Outside, the sky deepened toward evening, and the first stars peeked out. The breeze carried the scent of summer grass, and the promise of the festival felt suddenly real — like the first note of a favorite song.