The festival arrived in a burst of color and chaos.
Three days. Three chances for everything to change.
Day One belonged to the galleries—art paintings lining the hallways, historical exhibits in the gymnasium, photography displays near the courtyard. Each class contributed volunteers to guide visitors, explain exhibits, and ensure nothing got touched.
Class 2-B's assigned area was the history wing.
Kaito stood near a display of old yearbooks, his posture perfect, his expression neutral. He explained the school's founding to passing visitors with calm efficiency. No wasted words. No unnecessary warmth. Just facts.
Riko managed the photography section, her polished demeanor perfect for dealing with curious parents and restless children. She smiled. She guided. She performed.
Hikari was stationed near the art displays—a cruel joke by whoever assigned stations. She stood like a statue, her presence alone discouraging anyone from getting too close. When someone actually asked a question, she answered in monosyllables and stared until they left.
Yuki worked the history timeline, her usual energy dimmed but still present. She smiled. She pointed. She explained. But her eyes kept drifting—to Kaito, to the exit, to nowhere.
---
The morning passed in controlled chaos.
During a rare break, the four found each other near the water station.
"Thirsty?" Riko handed out bottles.
Kaito accepted silently. Hikari grunted. Yuki managed a small smile.
"How's everyone holding up?" Riko asked.
"Fine." Kaito.
"Okay." Hikari.
"Surviving." Yuki.
They stood in a loose circle, the noise of the festival buzzing around them.
Riko looked at Yuki. "You're doing well. With the explaining, I mean."
Yuki's smile flickered—almost genuine. "Thanks. You too. You're basically born for this."
Riko almost laughed. "Born to direct people away from touching exhibits?"
"Yes, actually."
Hikari snorted. The sound surprised everyone.
Even Yuki's smile widened. Just slightly.
For a moment, things felt normal.
Then the break ended. They scattered back to their stations.
---
The afternoon brought more visitors. More questions. More careful watching.
Kaito noticed a small child reaching toward a fragile yearbook. He intercepted smoothly, redirecting the child's attention to a safer display. The mother thanked him profusely. He nodded and moved on.
Riko handled a dispute between two visitors over a photograph. Calm. Fair. Decisive. The crowd parted before her authority.
Hikari stared down a group of students who were getting too close to a painting. They retreated without a word.
Yuki helped an elderly woman navigate the timeline, her voice soft and patient. The woman patted her cheek and called her a "dear girl." Yuki's eyes glistened.
---
When the final bell rang, signaling the end of Day One, volunteers collapsed into chairs and stretched aching feet.
Kaito found Riko and Hikari near the exit. Yuki joined moments later, slightly disheveled but intact.
"One day down," Riko sighed.
"Two to go." Hikari's voice was flat.
Yuki looked at them—her friends, her people, her reason for being here.
"Tomorrow will be more fun," she offered. "Stalls and games. Less explaining."
Riko raised an eyebrow. "You consider managing a game booth 'fun'?"
"I consider anything not explaining history 'fun'."
Kaito almost smiled. Almost.
They walked out together, the festival lights flickering off behind them.
Tomorrow, everything would be different.
(End of Chapter 85)