The wisteria blossoms hung in lush, cascading curtains of lavender and violet, their delicate petals trembling in the gentle breeze. The air was thick with their sweet, floral scent, mingling with the salty tang of the sea that surrounded the island. Beneath the canopy of blossoms, Marya, and her friends had spread out a large, checkered picnic blanket, its corners anchored by baskets overflowing with food and drink. The group was alive with excitement, their voices bubbling over with anticipation for the Founder's Festival.
Marya sat with her legs folded neatly beneath her, her long raven hair spilling over her shoulders like a dark silk scarf. Eternal Night rested at her side, its hilt catching the dappled sunlight filtering through the blossoms. She leaned back on one hand, her eyes softened by the beauty of the scene around her. A small, contented smile played on her lips as she listened to the others chatter. "I've already decided on my kimono," she said, her voice calm but confident. "It's deep indigo with silver accents—simple, but elegant. I want to be able to move freely if there's a sparring demonstration."
Bianca, seated cross-legged beside Marya, let out an exaggerated gasp. "Of course you've already planned yours," she said, "I'm still deciding between, like, this gorgeous emerald, green one with gold embroidery or this, like, stunning crimson one with black patterns. They're both, like, so perfect." She gestured wildly, her long black hair shimmering as it caught the light. "But I think the green one will, like, really make my eyes pop, you know?"
Zola, adjusted her glasses and pointed a finger in the air, her pink hair bright like spun sugar in the sunlight. "I've chosen a kimono in a soft lavender shade," she declared. "It's a nod to the wisteria blossoms, of course, but also a symbol of refinement. And I've already planned the accessories—a silver obi and a hairpin shaped like a crescent moon. It's going to be perfectly coordinated."
Natalie, seated next to Emmet, groaned dramatically, her blond hair catching the sunlight like spun gold. "I just want something comfortable," she said, her blue eyes wide with exasperation. "Something that doesn't, you know, make me feel like I'm being strangled by fabric. And it has to have pockets. Why do kimonos never have pockets?" She crossed her arms, her short temper flaring briefly before she laughed. "But seriously, I'm thinking of a soft blue one with white cherry blossoms. It's calming, and it won't clash with my hair."
Emmet, chuckled softly. "I'm going with a traditional dark green kimono," he said, his voice steady and thoughtful. "It's understated, but the embroidery along the hem is intricate—a geometric pattern inspired by fractal designs. It's a subtle nod to my... interests." He glanced at Natalie, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks as he added, "And yes, it has pockets."
Charlie, ever the enthusiastic archaeologist, cleared his throat loudly, drawing everyone's attention. "I've chosen a kimono in a rich, earthy brown," he announced, his voice brimming with excitement. "It's inspired by the ancient textiles of the island's founders. The patterns are based on historical designs I found in the archives—symbols of resilience and unity. And," he added with a grin, "it has pockets. Big ones. For all my notes."
The group erupted into laughter, the sound mingling with the rustle of the blossoms above. Bianca leaned over to poke Natalie in the arm. "See? Charlie gets it. Pockets are essential." Natalie grinned, her earlier frustration melting away. "Exactly! Someone finally understands."
As the conversation shifted to the food they planned to enjoy at the festival, the excitement grew even more palpable. Marya reached for a skewer of grilled meat from the picnic basket. "I'm looking forward to the yakitori stalls," she said, taking a bite. "And the mochi. There's nothing better than freshly pounded mochi."
Bianca nodded enthusiastically, her mouth already full of a sweet pastry. "Oh my gosh, yes! And, like, the taiyaki stands? I heard they're doing a special filling this year—matcha and red bean. It's going to be amazing."
Zola, ever the perfectionist, had already mapped out her culinary itinerary. "I've made a list of the most reputable vendors," she said, pulling a small notebook from her bag. "We'll start with the takoyaki stall near the main stage, then move on to the kakigori stand for shaved ice. And we must try the dango from the stall by the waterfall—it's supposed to be the best on the island."
Natalie groaned, clutching her stomach. "You're making me hungry just talking about it. But I'm with Zola—we have to try everything. Especially the festival-exclusive dishes. It's tradition!"
Emmet, chimed in. "And we can't forget the sake tasting," he said, his eyes twinkling. "There's a new brewer showcasing their work this year. I've read about their techniques—they use a centuries-old method passed down through generations. It's going to be a cultural experience."
"Aurélie!" Marya greeted her mentor with a respectful nod, though her sharp eyes caught the parchment and she braced herself. The others turned, their chatter dying down as they noticed the proud glint in Aurélie's eyes.
"I've written something," Aurélie announced, her voice steady but carrying a rare note of enthusiasm. She held up the parchment as if it were a treasure. "I wanted to share it with you all. I've been working on it for some time, and I believe it captures the essence of the wisteria blossoms and the spirit of the festival."
The group exchanged subtle glances with hesitation. They all knew Aurélie's poetry was... unique, to say the least. But her pride in her work was undeniable, and none of them wanted to hurt her feelings. Bianca, was the first to speak. "Oh, wow, Aurélie! That's, like, so cool that you wrote something. We'd love to hear it!"
Aurélie nodded, her expression serious as she unfolded the parchment. She cleared her throat and began to read, her voice steady and deliberate:
"Oh wisteria, thou purple rain,
Dancing in the wind's domain.
Thy petals fall like tears of night,
A symphony of soft moonlight.
The locust's wings, they hum with grace,
As shadows weave their lace.
Oh festival of founders' pride,
In thee, our hearts confide."
When she finished, she looked up, her gray eyes scanning the group expectantly. "Well?" she asked, her tone confident but with a hint of vulnerability. "What do you think?"
There was a beat of silence. Marya, kept her expression neutral, though her mind raced for a diplomatic response. Bianca was the first to break the silence. "Wow, Aurélie, that was, like, really... descriptive!" she said, her voice a little too bright. "I could totally, like, picture the wisteria and everything. It was so... poetic!"
Zola adjusted her glasses and nodded, her pink hair catching the light as she spoke. "Yes, it was... certainly evocative. The imagery was... vivid." She hesitated, then added, "And the rhyme scheme was... consistent."
Natalie, forced a smile. "It was really... heartfelt," she said, though her voice wavered slightly. "You can tell you put a lot of thought into it."
Emmet, cleared his throat. "The use of metaphor was... interesting," he said carefully. "And the way you tied in the locust's wings—very creative."
Charlie, nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes! It was... unique! A true reflection of your... artistic vision."
Aurélie's eyes narrowed slightly, her instincts picking up on their hesitation. "You're all being unusually vague," she said, her tone tinged with suspicion. "Is there something you're not saying?"
The group froze, their smiles faltering. Marya, sensing the tension, stepped in. "It's not that, Aurélie," she said, her voice calm but firm. "It's just... poetry is subjective. What matters is that you're proud of it. That's what counts."
Aurélie studied them for a moment, her gray eyes piercing. Then, to their surprise, she smiled—a rare, genuine smile. "I see," she said, her voice softening. "You're trying to spare my feelings. I appreciate that, but I value honesty above all else. If it's not to your taste, you can say so."
The group exchanged uneasy glances. Finally, Natalie sighed. "Okay, fine. It's... not exactly my style," she admitted. "But that doesn't mean it's bad! It's just... different."
Bianca nodded quickly. "Yeah, like, it's super creative and everything, but maybe it's a little... abstract? For me, at least."
Aurélie considered their words, her expression thoughtful. "I see," she said again, folding the parchment carefully. "Thank you for your honesty. I'll take your feedback into consideration for my next piece."
The group visibly relaxed, relieved that she hadn't taken offense. Aurélie sat down on the edge of the picnic blanket, her katana resting across her lap. "Now," she said, her tone returning to its usual stoic demeanor, "tell me more about the kimonos you've chosen for the festival. I'm considering a black one with silver accents—simple, but striking."
Just as Natalie was passionately explaining why her kimonos had to have pockets, Vaughn appeared, his easygoing smile and calm demeanor a welcome addition to the group. He carried a small basket in one hand, its contents smelling faintly of spices and freshly baked bread. "Hey, everyone," he greeted, his voice warm and steady. "Mind if I join?"
"Vaughn!" Marya said, nodding in acknowledgment. "Of course. Where's Harper? I thought he'd be with you."
Vaughn chuckled as he set the basket down and took a seat on the edge of the picnic blanket. "Oh, you know Harper. He's knee-deep in festival planning. He's been running around all day making sure everything is perfect." He rolled his eyes affectionately. "I tried to drag him away for a break, but he shooed me off, saying something about 'the centerpieces needing his personal touch.'"
Bianca giggled, her green eyes sparkling. "That sounds, like, so Harper. He's, like, totally obsessed with making everything flawless. I bet he's out there, like, rearranging flower arrangements or something."
"Probably," Vaughn said with a grin. "He's been like this since we got back. Every time I think he's done, he comes up with something else to tweak. Last night, he woke me up at 2 a.m. because he had a 'vision' for the lantern displays."
The group laughed, their amusement mingling with the gentle rustle of the wisteria blossoms above. Zola adjusted her glasses and pointed a finger in the air. "Harper's dedication is admirable, though. The festival wouldn't be the same without his flair for the dramatic."
"True," Vaughn admitted, his tone fond. "He's got a way of making everything beautiful. I just wish he'd take a break once in a while. He's been so stressed lately, and I'm starting to worry about him."
Natalie, leaned forward. "You should just kidnap him for an hour or two. Bring him here. He can't say no to wisteria blossoms and good food."
Vaughn laughed, his deep voice carrying a note of warmth. "I might just do that. But for now, I'm here to enjoy the picnic and catch up with all of you."
"What's in the basket, by the way?" Charlie asked, his curiosity piqued.
Vaughn opened the basket, revealing an assortment of treats—spiced meat pies, sweet rolls dusted with sugar, and a bottle of chilled fruit tea. "Harper insisted I bring something," he explained. "He said, 'If you're going to abandon me for the picnic, at least make sure you contribute.'"
The group eagerly dug into the offerings, their appreciation evident. "Harper might be high-maintenance," Emmet said between bites of a meat pie, "but he knows good food."
"He does," Vaughn agreed, his smile softening. "And he'd kill me if I didn't tell you all to save some for him. He'll probably show up later, demanding to know why we didn't leave him anything."
As the conversation flowed, Vaughn listened intently as Zola explained her meticulously planned kimono, nodded along as Bianca gushed about the festival's food stalls, and even managed to coax a rare laugh out of Marya with a well-timed joke.
At one point, Natalie leaned over to Vaughn, her voice teasing. "So, what about you? What are you wearing to the festival? Please tell me it's not another boring yukata."
Vaughn raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. "Boring? My yukata is classic. Dark blue with silver accents. Simple, elegant, and—most importantly—comfortable. Unlike some people," he added, glancing pointedly at Natalie, "I don't need pockets to feel complete."
"Ah, what a delightful gathering!" Nao Itsuki Makino announced, his voice carrying the dramatic flair of a stage actor. He strode into view, his hands gesturing grandly as if he were addressing an audience. His tailored yukata, a deep maroon with gold embroidery, shimmered in the sunlight. Behind him, Himari followed, her giggle soft and melodic. Her blond hair caught the light with her cheerful demeanor.
"Nao," Marya said, her tone polite but guarded. She knew all too well how his visits tended to go. "Himari. What brings you here?"
Nao waved a hand dismissively, as if the answer were obvious. "Why, the wisteria blossoms, of course! One cannot truly appreciate the Founder's Festival without understanding the historical and cultural significance of these magnificent flowers." He paused dramatically, his eyes sweeping over the group. "And I see you've all gathered here, blissfully unaware of the rich tapestry of history surrounding you. Fear not, for I am here to enlighten you."
Himari giggled, her hands clasped together. "Isn't he wonderful?" she said, her voice adoring. "He's been researching the history of wisteria for weeks. It's so fascinating!"
Nao preened under her praise, clearly enjoying the attention. "Indeed, Himari. Now, if I may—" He cleared his throat and launched into his lecture, his hands moving animatedly as he spoke. "The tradition of flower viewing, or hanami, dates back centuries, originating in the courts of ancient nobility. Wisteria, or fuji, has long been a symbol of longevity, perseverance, and the fleeting nature of beauty. Its cascading blossoms are said to represent the passage of time, a reminder that all things must eventually fade."
The group exchanged subtle glances, their amusement thinly veiled. Bianca leaned over to Zola and whispered, "Like, does he ever take a breath?" Zola stifled a laugh, adjusting her glasses to hide her smile.
Nao, oblivious to their reactions, continued. "The wisteria's significance extends beyond mere aesthetics. In architecture, its twisting vines have inspired countless designs, from the latticework of traditional tea houses to the intricate patterns of kimono fabrics. And in music—" He paused dramatically, his hand sweeping through the air. "Ah, but I see I've already captivated you all. No need to thank me."
Aurélie, who had been quietly observing the scene, raised an eyebrow. "Your lecture is... thorough," she said, her tone dry. "Though perhaps a bit long-winded."
Nao turned to her, his expression one of mock offense. "Ah, Aurélie. I see you've graced us with your presence. Tell me, have you written any new... poetry lately?" He emphasized the word with a smirk, his tone dripping with condescension. "I must say, your last piece was... memorable. Though not necessarily for the right reasons."
Himari giggled nervously, her eyes darting between Nao and Aurélie. "Oh, Nao, don't tease her! I'm sure her poetry is lovely."
Aurélie's gray eyes narrowed, her stoic demeanor faltering for a moment. "My poetry is a personal expression," she said, her voice cool but edged with irritation. "It's not meant to cater to your... refined tastes."
Nao chuckled, clearly enjoying the exchange. "Of course, of course. Art is subjective, after all. Though one might argue that true artistry requires a certain level of... finesse."
The group tensed, their amusement fading as they sensed the tension between the two. Marya, stepped in. "Nao, perhaps you could share more about the wisteria's role in the Founder's Festival. I'm sure we'd all find that interesting."
Nao turned to her, his expression softening. "Ah, Marya, ever the thoughtful one. Very well, I shall indulge you." He launched back into his lecture, his hands gesturing grandly as he spoke of the festival's origins and the wisteria's symbolic importance.
Himari, nodded along enthusiastically, her giggles punctuating Nao's more dramatic statements. "Isn't he brilliant?" she whispered to Natalie, who gave her a bemused smile.
"Well, well," Master Gaius said, his voice rich with amusement. "What do we have here? A gathering of the island's finest, enjoying the blossoms without me? I'm hurt."
The group turned, their faces lighting up at the sight of the senior master. "Master Gaius!" Marya greeted, her tone respectful but warm. "And Dalton. What brings you here?"
Dalton stepped forward, his small hands planted on his hips. "Grandpa said I could come see the wisteria blossoms," he announced, his voice brimming with pride. "And I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. They're just flowers, right?"
Master Gaius chuckled, ruffling the boy's hair. "Patience, Dalton. There's more to these blossoms than meets the eye. But first—" He glanced at the group, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "I hope you've saved some food for us. This one's got a bottomless stomach."
The group laughed, shifting to make room on the picnic blanket. Bianca handed Dalton a sweet roll, which he accepted with a grin. "Thanks! Grandpa says I need to eat a lot if I'm gonna be a guardian like him."
"Is that so?" Vaughn said, his tone playful. "And what makes you think you're ready to be a guardian, huh?"
Dalton puffed out his chest, his expression serious. "I'm already training with Grandpa! I can do a hundred push-ups, and I know all the basic sword stances. Right, Grandpa?"
Master Gaius nodded, his smile fond but teasing. "That's right. Though he still has a tendency to rush into things without thinking. Reminds me of someone else I know." He glanced pointedly at Marya, who rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smile.
As Dalton eagerly devoured his sweet roll, Master Gaius settled onto the blanket, his pipe resting in his hand. "So," he said, his tone light but probing, "what have you all been discussing? Nao, I hope you haven't been boring them with one of your lectures."
Nao straightened, his expression indignant. "Boring? My lectures are enlightening, Master Gaius. I was just explaining the historical significance of wisteria and its role in the Founder's Festival."
Master Gaius raised an eyebrow, his smile widening. "Ah, of course. Because nothing says 'festival fun' like a history lesson."
The group erupted into laughter, Nao's protests drowned out by their amusement. Dalton, his mouth still full of sweet roll, looked up at his grandfather. "Grandpa, can you tell us a story? A real one, not like his." He pointed at Nao, who looked positively scandalized.
Master Gaius chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "A story, eh? Very well. Let me tell you about the time I faced a rogue swordsman in the middle of a wisteria grove. It was a duel unlike any other..."
As Master Gaius launched into his tale, his voice rich with drama and humor, the group leaned in, captivated. Even Nao, despite his earlier indignation, found himself drawn into the story. Dalton listened with wide-eyed wonder, his earlier bravado replaced by pure admiration for his grandfather.
When the story ended, Dalton clapped his hands. "That was awesome! I'm gonna be just like you, Grandpa. I'll be the best guardian ever!"
Master Gaius smiled, his expression softening. "You've got the spirit, Dalton. But remember, being a guardian isn't just about strength or skill. It's about protecting what matters most—your friends, your home, and the people who depend on you."
Dalton nodded, his expression serious for a moment before he grinned. "I know, Grandpa. And I'll be the best at that too!"
The picnic was alive with energy, the air thick with the scent of blooming wisteria and the sounds of laughter, music, and chatter. The crowd was beginning to gather near the central stage, where Mayor Amel Ellington would soon give his speech to kick off the festivities.
Just as the group was debating whether to stay put or move closer to the stage, Harper appeared, his usually immaculate green hair slightly disheveled and his fair skin flushed with exertion. His extravagant yukata, a vibrant mix of gold and emerald, was still stunning, but his usual air of effortless grace was replaced by a frazzled energy. He clutched a clipboard in one hand and a half-finished cup of tea in the other, his eyes wide with a mix of excitement and overwhelm.
"Harper!" Vaughn called out, his voice warm but tinged with concern. "You look like you've been running a marathon. Everything okay?"
Harper waved a hand dramatically, his voice breathless but still full of his characteristic flair. "Darling, I've been everywhere. Do you know how many last-minute details there are? The flowers, the lanterns, the seating arrangements—it's a nightmare! But," he added with a proud smile, "it's going to be perfect. Just you wait."
Bianca giggled, her green eyes sparkling. "Harper, you're, like, totally killing it. But maybe take a breath? You look like you're about to pass out."
Harper sighed, sinking onto the edge of the picnic blanket. "You're right, you're right. I just needed to see your faces for a moment. It's been chaos, and I needed a reminder of why I'm doing all this." He glanced around the group, his smile softening. "You all look wonderful, by the way. The kimonos, the blossoms—it's like a scene from a painting."
Before anyone could respond, a small voice piped up. "Harper!" Dalton, Master Gaius's grandson, bounded over, his eyes wide with admiration. "Did you really plan all of this? It's so cool!"
Harper's smile widened, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. "Why, thank you, darling. It's been a labor of love, but seeing everyone enjoy it makes it all worth it."
Just then, Micah Ellington, the mayor's son, appeared, his confident stride and mischievous grin unmistakable. Behind him was Anna Penrose, the captain of the guards' daughter, her kind but morose demeanor, a contrast to Micah's boundless energy. "Dalton!" Micah called out, his voice full of excitement. "Come on! We're gonna explore the picnic before Dad starts his boring speech."
Dalton's eyes lit up, and he turned to his grandfather. "Can I go, Grandpa? Please?"
Master Gaius chuckled, his weathered face creasing into a smile. "Go on, then. But stay out of trouble, you hear?"
Dalton nodded eagerly, already running off with Micah and Anna. The three children disappeared into the crowd, their laughter trailing behind them.
As the group watched them go, Harper sighed again, this time with a mix of relief and exhaustion. "I should probably get back," he said, though he made no move to stand. "Amel's speech is about to start, and I need to make sure everything's ready."
Vaughn reached out, placing a hand on Harper's shoulder. "You've done enough, Harper. Sit for a minute. The festival's going to be amazing, and you deserve to enjoy it too."
Harper hesitated, then nodded, sinking back onto the blanket. "You're right. Just for a minute."
At that moment, the crowd near the stage began to quiet, and Mayor Amel Ellington stepped up to the podium. His presence was commanding, his yukata a deep crimson with gold accents that caught the light. Beside him stood his wife, Nanette Ellington, with her raven hair swept into an elaborate updo she scanned the crowd with regal confidence. She exuded elegance, her every movement a statement of grace and authority.
Amel cleared his throat, his voice carrying across the crowd. "Welcome, everyone, to the Founder's Festival!"
The crowd erupted into applause, and Harper finally allowed himself to relax, a proud smile spreading across his face. The festival had begun, and despite the chaos, it was everything he had dreamed it would be. As the mayor's speech continued, the group sat together beneath the wisteria blossoms, their laughter and camaraderie a testament to the bonds that held them together. The children's joyful shouts echoed in the distance, and the air was filled with the promise of a week full of celebration and wonder.
The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden glow over the picnic grounds, and the cascading lavender flowers seemed to shimmer in the fading light. As they sat together, their conversation turned to the friends who were notably absent.
"I can't believe Riggs, Jax, and Celeste aren't here yet," Bianca said, her voice tinged with disappointment. She twirled a strand of her long black hair around her finger, her green eyes scanning the crowd as if hoping to spot them. "Like, this is the Founder's Festival. It's, like, the biggest event of the year. How could they miss it?"
Marya leaned back on her hands. Her expression was thoughtful, though there was a hint of concern in her sharp, analytical eyes. "They're on important tasks," she said, her voice calm but firm. "They'll be back when they can."
Zola adjusted her glasses, as she pointed a finger in the air. "Yes, but the festival only lasts a week. If they don't return soon, they'll miss the best parts—the lantern lighting ceremony, the sparring demonstrations, the—"
"The food," Charlie interrupted, his tone enthusiastic. He cleared his throat. "The festival's culinary offerings are unparalleled. The dango, the yakitori, the mochi—it's a cultural experience they simply can't afford to miss."
Natalie rolled her eyes, though her smile was fond. "Charlie, not everything is about food. But he's right," she added, turning to the group. "It won't be the same without them. Riggs would've loved the sparring matches, and Jax would've been fussing over everyone to make sure we were 'staying safe.'" She imitated Jax's serious tone, earning a laugh from the group.
Emmet, leaned forward, his red hair catching the sunlight. "And Celeste," he said quietly. "She's been looking forward to this for months. She told me she wanted to try all the festival games this year."
Vaughn nodded, his expression softening. "Yeah, she's been working so hard. It's not fair that she might miss it. And Riggs—he'd never let us hear the end of it if he missed the chance to show off his sword skills."
Harper, who had been quietly listening, sighed dramatically. "Darling, you're all breaking my heart. They'll be back. They have to be. I didn't spend weeks planning this festival just for them to miss it."
Master Gaius, who had been puffing on his kiseru pipe, chuckled softly. "They're good kids," he said, his voice warm but tinged with a hint of mischief. "Stubborn, reckless, and a little too serious at times, but good kids. They'll find a way to make it back."
Marya's lips curved into a small smile, though her eyes remained distant. "Jax would never let a task keep him away for too long," she said, her tone thoughtful. "And Riggs... well, he'd probably find some reckless way to finish early just so he could show off at the festival."
Bianca giggled. "And Celeste would follow him, even if she's too shy to admit it."
The group laughed, the tension easing as they imagined their absent friends. Natalie sighed, her blue eyes softening. "I just hope they're safe. Riggs is so reckless, and Jax is always trying to keep him in line. And Celeste... she's so quiet, but she's always looking out for everyone else."
Vaughn reached over and gave Natalie's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "They'll be fine. And when they get back, we'll make sure they don't miss out on anything."
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the picnic grounds in a soft, twilight glow, the group fell into a comfortable silence. The wisteria blossoms swayed gently above them, their delicate petals a reminder of the fleeting beauty of the moment. Though their friends were far away, the group held onto the hope that they would return in time to share in the joy of the festival. And until then, they would celebrate together, their laughter and camaraderie a testament to the bonds that held them all close.