The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the bustling festival grounds. Paper lanterns swayed gently in the evening breeze, illuminating the lively crowds that had gathered for the event. Everywhere Yasushi looked, couples strolled hand in hand, laughing, sharing treats, and snapping photos against the backdrop of colorful stalls.
For Yasushi, it was suffocating.
He stuffed his hands into his pockets, navigating through the throngs of people with quick, purposeful steps. He had never been one for festivals, let alone ones like this—full of romantic themes and games designed for couples. But his friend, Hiro, had insisted, practically dragging him out of his apartment with promises that "it would be fun" and "a good change of pace."
"Fun, huh?" Yasushi muttered under his breath, glancing at the playful crowd around him. It wasn't that he hated people finding happiness—it was just... not for him. Relationships were too complicated, too risky. He preferred to keep things simple, predictable, controlled.
Ahead of him, Hiro was already lost in the excitement, chatting animatedly with some friends he'd run into. Yasushi felt a twinge of envy—Hiro was always so carefree, so effortlessly at ease with people. Yasushi, on the other hand, was always holding back, keeping everyone at arm's length.
"Why did I agree to this?" he thought, regretting not making an excuse to stay home.
He slipped away from the crowd, seeking some solitude near a quieter section of the festival grounds. He found himself standing near a stall selling beautifully arranged flower crowns. Despite himself, his eyes lingered on the delicate blooms, their soft petals glowing in the lantern light. It reminded him of something—no, someone.
His thoughts drifted back to Kasumi, the florist he had met a few weeks ago at the same festival. Her gentle voice and the way she spoke about flowers had stuck with him. There was something about her that felt... familiar. Like they were both searching for something but were too afraid to reach out and grasp it.
He hadn't expected her to reach out after that, but she did. Her text had been simple: "Would you like to grab coffee sometime?"
Yasushi had hesitated before replying, unsure of what to say. It wasn't like him to get involved with someone he barely knew, but there had been something comforting about their brief connection. Maybe it was the shared silence, the way they hadn't felt the need to fill every moment with words. It had felt natural.
He had responded with a yes, and they had agreed to meet up sometime soon. But now, as he stood in the heart of a festival that seemed to celebrate everything he'd avoided for years, he wasn't sure if he could handle the idea of more.
Suddenly, a soft voice broke through his thoughts.
"Yasushi?"
He turned, and there she was—Kasumi. She stood a few feet away, wearing a simple but elegant yukata adorned with small pink flowers. Her dark hair was tied up in a loose bun, and she looked just as surprised to see him as he was to see her.
"Kasumi," he said, trying to suppress the shock in his voice. "I didn't expect to see you here."
She smiled softly, though there was a hint of awkwardness in the way she shifted her weight. "Yeah, I wasn't really planning on coming, but... my friend dragged me along."
"Same," Yasushi chuckled lightly, glancing back toward where Hiro had disappeared into the crowd. "Festivals like this aren't really my thing."
"Mine either," Kasumi admitted. "But my friend insisted I needed to get out of the shop for once. Said I spent too much time with flowers and not enough with people."
Yasushi nodded, understanding that sentiment all too well. He gestured toward the flower crowns at the stall nearby. "I guess you can't get away from flowers even here."
Kasumi laughed, and the sound was soft, like the rustle of leaves in the wind. "I guess not. But at least these flowers don't come with customers demanding impossible arrangements on short notice."
For a moment, they both stood there, unsure of what to say next. The air between them was filled with the distant hum of laughter and music from the festival, but in their little bubble, time seemed to slow.
Yasushi was the first to break the silence. "You, uh, want to take a walk? It's quieter on the other side of the grounds."
Kasumi blinked, then smiled. "Sure, that sounds nice."
They began to walk, moving away from the noisy center of the festival. The path they took led them past quieter booths, where the crowds thinned out. The conversation was light—talk about the festival, the silly games, and small details of their lives. But beneath the surface, both of them seemed to be avoiding something deeper. They were two people who had spent most of their lives keeping others at a distance, and now, faced with the possibility of opening up, they both hesitated.
As they reached the far side of the festival, the lanterns grew sparser, and the path became lined with trees. Yasushi found himself glancing at Kasumi, wondering if she felt the same pull he did—a strange, undeniable sense of understanding between them.
They stopped by a small koi pond, the water reflecting the moonlight in shimmering ripples. Kasumi gazed at the fish swimming lazily beneath the surface, her expression thoughtful.
"You know," she began quietly, "I never really liked festivals like this. Too many people, too many expectations."
Yasushi nodded, though he sensed there was more she wanted to say.
"It's just... it reminds me of my parents," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "They used to take me to festivals when I was little. Before my dad left, anyway."
Yasushi's heart ached at the vulnerability in her words. He understood all too well the pain of abandonment, the way it could shape your life and make you wary of trusting others.
"My mom left when I was a kid," Yasushi said, his voice quiet. "So I get it."
Kasumi looked at him, her eyes filled with a mix of surprise and empathy. "I'm sorry."
"Me too," he replied, offering a sad smile. "But I guess we both turned out okay."
She smiled back, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Yeah, I suppose we did."
They stood there for a while longer, letting the silence stretch between them. For the first time in years, Yasushi felt something stirring inside him, something he hadn't allowed himself to feel for a long time—a flicker of hope, of connection. He wasn't sure where this path would lead, but for the first time, he wasn't so afraid of finding out.