Haruto leaned forward, marker in hand, grinning like a mastermind. “Alright, team. Time to lock this in. Haunted tea house? Storytelling? Yukata? What’s the final vision?”

Yui tapped the table with her chopsticks, thinking hard. “I say we go full experience — we welcome guests in yukata, serve them matcha and wagashi, and tell ghost stories. But not just any stories — local legends. Stuff that’ll give them goosebumps!”

Daichi smirked. “And at random moments, one of us appears behind a screen or from the shadows. Maybe someone wears a kitsune mask and gives a spooky riddle. We’ll make them jump out of their seats!”

Aoi giggled softly, the sound like a bell. “We could dim the lights and use paper lanterns. And maybe have soft flute music playing, like in an old inn…”

Ren found himself watching her as she spoke, the way her eyes sparkled with excitement. She’s really into this. It’s… cute. He quickly looked down, pretending to study the sketches.

“I love it,” Haruto said, scribbling fast. “We can divide the space — part cozy tea house, part eerie story corner, part surprise-scare zone.”

Daichi leaned over Ren’s shoulder, grinning. “Ren can be the one who jumps out. With his serious face, he’ll scare everyone without even trying.”

Ren groaned, but a smile tugged at his lips. “Thanks, Daichi. Glad to know I’m terrifying.”

Yui teased, “No, no. Ren will be the mysterious samurai spirit — all the girls will swoon.”

Ren’s face went red, and Aoi, caught off guard, looked down quickly, her cheeks burning. I… I wouldn’t mind seeing that, she thought, flustered, and immediately scolded herself.

Daichi, not missing the glance, waggled his eyebrows. “Ohhh, Aoi’s imagining it right now, huh?”

Aoi shook her head fast. “N-no! I’m just thinking about… about the decorations!”

Haruto laughed, the sound filling the room like sunlight. “You guys are hopeless. But I like where this is going. Haunted tea house it is. Traditional, eerie, and unforgettable.”

Outside, the breeze picked up, rustling the garden’s maple leaves and setting the wind chime singing again. The soft clink of porcelain from the tea cups made the moment feel timeless — like they weren’t just planning an event, but sharing something they’d remember forever.

They spent the next hour sketching out a floor plan, listing who would do what — costumes, props, music, storytelling. Laughter filled the room as Daichi kept making outrageous suggestions (“Let’s have a fake skeleton fall from the ceiling!”), and Yui tried to design creepy masks that ended up looking more silly than scary.

Aoi and Ren kept glancing at each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking, their shared smiles small but genuine — fragile threads of connection quietly weaving stronger.

As the afternoon turned to early evening, Haruto sat back, satisfied. “This is going to be amazing. Freshmen won’t know what hit them.”

Daichi stretched, yawning. “Agreed. Now I just hope we can pull it off without the teachers freaking out.”

Everyone laughed, and as they gathered up the papers, the setting sun bathed the room in soft gold, as if the world itself was blessing their little dream.