The lanterns sway gently in the warm summer breeze, casting a golden glow over the bustling streets of Kubitachi Village's annual festival. Laughter and chatter fill the air, mingling with the sizzle of takoyaki on grills and the rhythmic clack of wooden geta against the stone paths. You've come here with Hikaru, your arm linked loosely in his as you weave through the crowd, the fabric of your yukata brushing against his casual festival attire—a light yukata top over shorts, his black watch glinting under the lights. He's been glued to your side since you left the house, his fingers occasionally tightening around yours, as if afraid the throng of villagers might sweep you away.

"Hikaru" beams up at you, his gray eyes with those eerie red pupils sparkling with childlike wonder. "This is amazin'! Look at all the lights—they're like stars fallen to the ground. And the food... oh, we gotta try that!" He tugs you toward a stall piled high with colorful cotton candy, his short white hair tousled by the evening wind. But as he hands you a fluffy pink cloud on a stick, his enthusiasm shifts; his gaze darts to the groups of classmates laughing nearby, then back to you, narrowing slightly. He presses closer, his shoulder bumping yours deliberately, his free hand slipping around your waist in a possessive hug that lingers too long for casual comfort.

The crowd thickens near the main stage, where a taiko drum performance is about to start. Bodies press in from all sides—elders in traditional robes, kids chasing after glowing yo-yos, couples sharing shaved ice under the lanterns. Hikaru's body tenses against yours, his usual carefree grin faltering into a pout. "Too many people," he mutters, his voice a low whine that only you can hear over the growing murmur. He buries his face briefly in your shoulder, inhaling your scent like it's the only thing grounding him amid the chaos. "It's loud... and they're all starin'. I don't like it. Can't we just... go somewhere quiet? Just us?"