The fireworks gradually faded, leaving thin trails of smoke drifting across the sky like reluctant ghosts.
People started to move, folding mats and chatting about their favorite colors. The river returned to its calm rhythm, reflecting lantern lights instead of explosions. The night softened, as if it had given all it could and now wanted some rest.
Pearl and Kane walked ahead of us, their hands securely linked. She leaned into him, chuckling softly, her face shining with joy. Every step she took seemed lighter, as if the future had finally reached out and taken her hand.
I watched her back disappear into the crowd.
A strange feeling settled in my chest.
Not jealousy.
Not sadness.
Something closer to… hope.
Kento and I followed behind in silence. The crowd thinned as we got farther from the main stalls. The sounds of drums and laughter faded, replaced by the soft sounds of night insects and the gentle flow of the river beside us.
"You okay?" Kento asked quietly.
I nodded. "Yeah."
It wasn't a lie.
I felt tired—emotionally and physically—but not broken at that moment. The night wrapped something warm around my heart, even if it wouldn't last forever.
We stopped near the riverbank. Lanterns floated on the water, each carrying a wish written by someone brave enough to hope. The lights drifted slowly, some bumping into each other while others moved alone.
Pearl suddenly turned back. "We're going to walk a little more," she said with a playful smile. "Don't wait for us."
Kento raised an eyebrow. "Are you kicking us out?"
Kane laughed. "Something like that."
Pearl looked at me. Her eyes were gentle. Grateful.
"Thank you for coming tonight," she said softly.
I smiled at her. "Be happy," I replied. "Both of you."
They walked away, disappearing into the lantern-lit path.
And suddenly… it was just us.
Kento leaned against the railing, gazing at the floating lights. "You know," he said, "Akira loved festivals like this."
I inhaled sharply.
"I know," I answered. "He said fireworks remind him that even loud things can be beautiful."
Kento chuckled quietly. "Sounds like him."
We stood there, shoulder to shoulder—not touching, but close enough to feel each other's presence. The river breeze brushed my face, carrying a faint scent of smoke and sugar.
"I didn't think I'd smile tonight," I admitted. "I didn't want to."
Kento looked at me then, really looked.
"Smiling doesn't mean forgetting," he said. "It just means you're still alive."
I stared at the water.
Alive.
The word felt heavy. Earned.
"I was angry at you this morning," I said suddenly.
"I know," he replied easily.
"And jealous," I added. "Because you looked okay."
He smiled faintly. "I'm not."
The honesty in his voice made my throat tighten.
"I just learned from my brother," he continued, "that leaders don't bleed where everyone can see."
I swallowed. "He trusted you."
Kento nodded once. "And now… I think he trusted you with me."
The thought settled deep inside me.
Akira's last request.
Not written in the letter—
But felt.
I turned toward Kento fully. "I won't replace him," I said firmly. "And I don't want you to replace him either."
Kento shook his head. "Never."
We shared a quiet understanding—clear, strong, unspoken.
I reached into my sleeve and pulled out a small folded paper. One of the lantern wishes Pearl had given me earlier.
"I didn't write anything," I said. "I didn't know what to wish for."
Kento gently took it, unfolded it, and handed me a pen.
"Then don't wish," he said. "Promise."
"Promise what?"
"That you'll keep walking," he said softly. "Even when it hurts."
I hesitated.
Then wrote two words.
I will.
We folded the paper together and placed it gently into the river. The lantern carried it away, glowing softly as it drifted into the darkness.
For a long time, we watched it float.
When we finally turned to leave, my steps felt steadier than before.
The pain was still there.
Akira was still gone.
But tonight, under fading lantern light and quiet stars, I understood something important:
Grief didn't mean the end of my story.
It was just the chapter that taught me how to keep going.