The morning sunlight was soft and gold, filtering through the curtains at Suki's house, turning the messy living room into something almost serene. The air still smelled faintly of last night's takeout and fabric softener. Piles of bags and half-folded blankets were scattered across the floor — evidence of a night spent laughing too long, whispering too late, and falling asleep mid-plan.
A kettle hissed in the kitchen. Someone's phone vibrated on the table. Outside, a bird tried and failed to out-sing the sound of Suki humming while brushing his teeth.
Aoi was the first fully awake — or, at least, the first to start pretending she was. Her hair was tied loosely, her uniform swapped for a simple white tee and soft blue jeans. She sat at the dining table, phone in hand, reviewing the trip notes she'd written the night before. Her mug of green tea had gone cold, but she didn't seem to notice.
The phone buzzed again. She frowned, squinting at the caller ID.Mr. Shibata.
"Good morning, sensei," she said, sitting a little straighter. "Yes, this is Saitō Aoi."
The others began to stir. Ryuzí's voice, still gravelly with sleep, drifted from the hall. "Suki, your alarm's been ringing for five minutes."
"It's not an alarm," Suki called back. "It's the rhythm of life."
Kenji groaned from under the blanket pile. "The rhythm of life sounds like a dying duck."
Aoi covered the receiver, fighting a smile. "Sensei, sorry—yes, I can hear you now."
Mr. Shibata's voice was as calm and dry as ever, though there was a smile in it.
"Good news, Saitō-san. The principal signed off on your trip request this morning. You're officially cleared to go. Four days, three nights. Departure tomorrow. Just remember the safety guidelines."
Aoi blinked. "It's approved?"
"Approved," he confirmed. "Congratulations. Tell your team they've earned it."
She exhaled slowly, like she'd been holding that breath for weeks. "Thank you, sensei. We'll be responsible."
"I trust you," he said, and hung up.
For a moment, Aoi just sat there — phone in hand, lips parted, eyes wide. Then her composure cracked, just a little. She stood up, turned toward the living room, and said, voice bright with restrained joy:
"Everyone! We got approval!"
Suki froze mid-sock. "Wait—what?"
Ryuzí blinked. "Already?"
Kenji sat up like he'd been struck by lightning. "Say it again. Slowly. For dramatic effect."
Aoi smiled. "We're going. Four days, three nights. The principal signed off."
The living room erupted like fireworks in a jar.
Suki whooped loud enough to startle the neighbors. "YES! Victory! I believed in us! I never doubted—okay, maybe a little, but still!" He grabbed the nearest person, who happened to be Ryuzí, and spun him in a dizzy half-hug. "We're going to the lake, we're going to the lake!"
Ryuzí steadied him, laughter spilling out before he could hide it. "You're going to trip before we even leave."
"That's what insurance is for," Suki said cheerfully, clinging tighter.
Kenji threw a pillow in the air and caught it like a trophy. "Four days! Lakeside freedom! I'm packing nothing but good vibes and sunscreen."
"Pack actual clothes," Miyako said from the corner, voice still soft with sleep. She sat cross-legged on the rug, hair mussed but eyes bright. "And a hat. And maybe dignity."
"Overrated," Kenji declared.
Haruto was the quietest of them all — sitting by the window, notebook open on his lap. But when Aoi met his eyes, the quiet wasn't distance this time. It was peace. His mouth curved into a small smile, the kind that could undo an entire week's worth of tension.
"That's… great news," he said, voice calm but genuine.
"It is," Aoi replied softly. Their gazes held for a moment longer than necessary before Suki's shout broke through again.
"Alright, team! Operation Pack-n-Roll begins now!" Suki grabbed a notepad and clicked his pen dramatically. "Checklist! Clothes, snacks, emotional stability—Ryuzí, check if we have enough towels!"
"We have towels," Ryuzí said, already halfway through folding them. "You have two left shoes."
"They're fashion," Suki said solemnly.
Kenji was already digging through his duffel bag. "I packed snacks, swimsuits, and the portable speaker. I also brought fireworks."
Aoi looked up sharply. "No fireworks."
"Small ones?"
"No."
"Tiny ones?"
"Still no."
Miyako giggled behind her hand. "He's going to sneak them in anyway."
"I heard that!" Kenji said.
"You were supposed to," Miyako replied, smiling.
Across the room, Haruto zipped his backpack with quiet precision. His packing was neat — too neat. Aoi noticed. She walked over, hands tucked into her pockets. "You don't have to bring your sketchbook if you don't want to work during the trip."
"I want to," Haruto said simply. "The lake might look different at night. I want to try capturing that."
"Then bring two," she said, half-smiling.
He looked up, surprised. "Two?"
"In case you fill one up."
He hesitated, then nodded. "Okay."
There was warmth in that okay. A quiet gratitude tucked beneath it — not loud, not performative, but enough for Aoi to feel her chest ache in the best way.
Suki, meanwhile, had declared himself "Packing Commander" and was inspecting everyone's progress with faux authority."Miyako, love the organized bag. Kenji, why do you have seven shirts and zero underwear?"
Kenji looked genuinely confused. "They're reversible."
"They are not," Miyako said, blushing.
"Suki, you're judging him while you're packing three jackets," Ryuzí said.
"I need options," Suki replied. "What if it rains? What if I want to look mysterious? What if Haruto gets inspired by my dramatic outerwear and paints me as a tragic hero?"
Haruto, without looking up, murmured, "Unlikely."
Aoi laughed softly. It was small and rare and caught them all off guard. Even Ryuzí smiled — quick and real.
The day became a blur of zippers, laughter, and mild chaos. Suki played music too loud, Kenji tried on sunglasses indoors, and Miyako somehow managed to fold everyone's clothes better than they did themselves. Aoi took notes in her phone — bus times, food lists, emergency contacts. Haruto wrote down a few landscape ideas in his sketchpad, each one softer than the last.
At noon, Suki emerged from the kitchen with triumph. "Lunch, made by yours truly!"
Kenji peered suspiciously at the plate. "You made… sandwiches?"
"Yes! Behold, culinary art."
"They're… triangles."
"They're balanced," Suki said proudly. "Geometry, flavor, and love."
Miyako bit into one and smiled. "It's actually good."
Suki puffed his chest. "See? I'm not just a pretty face."
Ryuzí reached for one without a word, took a bite, and nodded once. "Not bad."
"That's high praise from you," Suki teased. "I'll frame that."
Haruto took a sandwich too, silent but smiling faintly when Aoi passed him a bottle of iced tea. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," she said, voice softer than her usual tone. "You can relax today, you know. No one's watching."
He looked at her, something complicated flickering behind his eyes — memory, maybe. "I know," he said. "I'm… trying."
Aoi nodded. "That's enough."
Outside, the day brightened into something golden and perfect. Music drifted through the open window — a lazy summer rhythm that made time slow down.
By afternoon, the room looked like a small campsite — bags stacked, snacks packed, clothes neatly folded, the energy of departure hanging in the air like electricity. Suki sprawled on the couch, waving his phone in triumph. "Group photo before we leave tomorrow!"
Kenji leapt in front of him. "Wait, let me fix my hair—Miyako, stand next to me, for symmetry."
Aoi sighed but stood behind the couch. Haruto hesitated, but Suki tugged him closer until they were shoulder to shoulder.
"Okay, everyone say—'Vacation!'"
"Vacation!" they chorused, and the camera clicked.
Suki looked at the photo, grinning. "Perfect. Look at us — we're practically a tourism ad."
Ryuzí leaned over. "You cut my forehead off."
"It's artistic framing."
Kenji pointed at Haruto. "And look! Our bro actually smiled!"
Haruto rolled his eyes, but the blush that crept up his neck betrayed him. "Delete it."
"No way," Suki said, clutching the phone. "This is history."
Miyako peeked over his shoulder. "It's a good one. You all look happy."
"We are happy," Aoi said quietly, almost to herself.
The laughter softened. For a moment, the room was just warmth — the kind that didn't need music or conversation to prove it existed.
The quiet broke when Aoi's phone buzzed again. She glanced at the screen.Mr. Shibata — again.
She answered. "Hello, sensei?"
"Just confirming, Saitō-san," came his voice, "the principal asked me to remind your group to check the weather. There's a light rain forecast on the second day — pack accordingly. Other than that, you're good to go."
Aoi smiled. "Thank you for letting us know. We'll be ready."
"Enjoy your trip," he said, voice warm. "You all earned it."
When she hung up, she turned back to the group. "That was Mr. Shibata. The school's fully cleared everything. We leave tomorrow morning at eight."
Kenji threw his hands up. "Greenlight!"
"Greenlight!" Suki echoed, jumping onto the couch and almost knocking Ryuzí's mug over.
"Careful," Ryuzí warned, catching it midair.
Aoi's lips curved. "Don't break anything before we even leave."
Haruto chuckled quietly. "That's optimistic."
Miyako clasped her hands. "Okay, everyone — get some rest tonight. Tomorrow, we start fresh."
Suki saluted dramatically. "Yes, ma'am!"
Kenji flopped onto the floor, arms spread wide. "We're really doing this, huh?"
Aoi looked at all of them — at Suki's laughter, at Miyako's calm, at Ryuzí's steadiness, at Haruto's soft smile — and felt something in her chest expand.
"Yeah," she said. "We are."
As dusk settled, the light in Suki's house turned honey-gold, painting their faces in warmth. Bags lined up by the door, ready for morning. The air hummed with anticipation — laughter, comfort, the pulse of something new beginning.
Outside, the sky blushed with sunset. Inside, six friends stood on the edge of something bigger than a trip — something like healing, like freedom, like the start of summer.
Tomorrow, they would leave for Aoi's lake house.
Tonight, they simply let themselves be happy.