The giggle was still lingering in my chest when Pearl arrived.
With disbelief written all over her face, she literally stood at the border of the training ground as if she was scared that the moment would disappear if she blinked. Her eyes went bigger and bigger and her mouth opened wider and wider in surprise.
I got it too late.
She caught me laughing.
Before I could turn away and conceal it, Pearl came running to me and put her arms around my shoulders very tightly.
"You laughed," she said, her voice tearing. "You actually laughed."
I was nervous for a moment, embarrassed, but her warmth then enveloped me. Her shoulders were quivering. She was crying, but these tears were different. They were light. Relieved.
"I thought I had lost you as well," she whispered in my ear. "I thought the war had taken both of you."
My chest got tight.
I hugged her back, mild and reserved, like I was holding something frail.
A few steps away, Kento was feigning a stretch and pretending that he is not watching but I could sense his smile even without my glance.
Pearl got her hand back, wiped her tears and her eyes were shining with the same dangerous, familiar kind of excitement all of a sudden.
"Oh," she said, realigning her back. "That decides it."
"Decides what?" I inquired, wary.
She was looking at Kento with a very intense stare. "You. You're the one who's going to take Amane to the fireworks festival tonight."
Kento was so taken aback that he could barely formulate a sentence. "The—wait, the summer fireworks festival?"
"Yeah," Pearl said, without any hesitation. "The one along the river. With stalls and lanterns and all that."
I instantly shook my head. "Absolutely not. I'm not going."
Pearl held my hands. "Amane, please. Just for a single night. Only to take a breath."
"I am not the right one to be there," I said in a low voice. "Definitely not like this."
Kento raised both of his hands up. "Look, I'm just a general and not a kidnapper. If she declines—"
"She will go," Pearl said, interrupting him and giving him a sharp look. Then, she turned to me, her voice getting gentler. "I will be there as well. I assure you. You won't be the only one."
I was uncertain.
Fireworks. Music. Crowds. Memories.
Akira was the one who loved festivals the most. He used to say that they were the evidence that after the darkness people still make the choice for the light.
"OK, I'll do it," I said, in the end. "But on the condition that you are coming too."
Pearl beamed. "Naturally."
....
That night, Pearl literally pulled me with her into the tiny room we were sharing and slammed the door.
"Sit down," she ordered.
Before I could question her, she revealed a wooden chest that I hadn't seen for years.
There was a kimono inside.
Rich indigo, decorated with the delicate white sakura petals. The cloth seemed to be soft, neatly folded, as if it had been waiting for me all this time.
My lungs stopped working for a moment.
"I rescued it," Pearl said, very quietly. "Akira... he loved this one."
My fingers were shaky as I made a contact with the fabric.
I hadn't put on a kimono since before the war. Since before the whole thing fell apart.
Pearl is now moving like a feather, touching my hair, singing softly like she used to be when we were kids. She is doing it with her own hands, fixing my hair and letting a few strands fall naturally. Her hands are warm and steady.
She is doing very light makeup work—nothing heavy. Just an effort to bring back the color to the face. Soft red on the lips. A very faint blush on the cheeks.
When she is through, she spins me to look in the glass.
I am almost a stranger to myself.
The kimono was embracing me like a memory. Like the one version of me which existed before my pain was carved into my bones.
"I seem strange," I whispered.
"You seem alive," Pearl said."
For a while, I was nearly on the verge of tears again.
....
As we went out, Kento was standing at the gate waiting for us.
At the sound of footsteps, he turned—and stood like a statue.
The loud, fun general was gone in a flash.
His eyes became as big as saucers. His mouth fell open a little and then closed again. He seemed to forget how to talk.
"...Wow," he put it finally. "Ak-"
He cut himself off.
I saw it.
"You look... stunning," he said in a very careful and honest way. "I mean—really. Like... festivals were created just for you."
I got really warm and averted my eyes. "You are a little bit too much."
"I am a little bit too less," he answered."
Pearl clapped her hands together. "Alright! You two can head off now. I'll be joining you in a little while. I still have to finish something."
I was about to say something but Pearl interrupted me. She gently pushed us forward.
"Go. I'll be seeing you at the river."
Reluctantly, I walked along with Kento.
—
The festival was shining like something out of a dream.
Rows of paper lanterns were outlining the streets and gently moving in the summer wind. The scent of grilled foods was filling the air—takoyaki, yakitori, sweet dango. Kids were running past us with laughter and their wooden shoes were making a clicking sound as they were walking on the stone paths.
Certain women were donning bright yukata and their laughter was mixing with the far-off sound of the festival drums.
I moved gradually and saw everything in detail.
I hadn't known how much I had been deprived of this.
Kento was walking next to me and he was quite unusual in that he was silent.
"Did you come to festivals often?" he asked.
"Yes," I answered softly. "With Akira."
This time the name didn't break me. It only made my chest ache softly.
"He used to win me candy apples," I explained. "Every year."
Kento stopped walking all of a sudden. "Wait here."
Before I could ask the reason, he was gone into the crowd.
Not long after, he is back with a shiny red candy apple on a stick in hand.
Proudly smiling he gives it to me, "Tradition."
I look at it, then at him.
"…Thank you."
We were standing near the river when the fireworks started to scatter in the sky.
Colors were blooming above us—gold, red, blue—reflected on the water like scattered stars.
I looked up and muttered, "If only he were here."
Kento didn't respond at once.
"I am aware," he said, very quietly. "Me as well."
As the firework on his face, I could see it perfectly now.
The same eyes.
The same quiet inner strength beneath the noise.
The same heart.
Whatever the case, loud or extroverted, Kento was Akira's mirror.
Different form.
Same spirit.
And when the firework traced the sky, I could feel a soft and gentle feeling settle inside of me.
Not taking the place of Akira.
But, being with him on the journey forward.
The night went on, softly glowing around us—
and for a change, the pain did not take away the beauty.