Main Characters
Reine Aoyama (青山 レイネ) – Quiet, observant, a little withdrawn. Enjoys walking alone during holidays. Good at noticing small details others miss.
Reuko Hanazawa (花沢 玲子) – Gentle but not fragile. Warm smile, thoughtful eyes. Carries emotions carefully, like something precious she doesn't want to spill.
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The Night the Lanterns Learned Their Names**
School holidays were supposed to feel freeing.
For Reine Aoyama, they mostly felt… quiet.
The last bell before summer break still echoed faintly in his ears even as he walked through the crowded streets that evening, hands buried in the pockets of his light jacket. The air smelled of grilled corn, sweet dango, and something smoky—fireworks, maybe. Or nostalgia.
Paper lanterns lined the street, glowing softly in reds, oranges, and pale golds, swaying gently as if breathing with the night. The Tanabata Lantern Festival had begun.
Reine hadn't planned on coming.
He'd told himself he'd stay home, read, maybe sleep early. But something about the way the sky looked at dusk—deep blue fading into violet—had pulled him outside without permission.
"Just a walk," he muttered to himself.
That was how things usually began.
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Laughter burst nearby. A group of children ran past him, yukatas fluttering, wooden sandals clacking loudly against the stone pavement. Somewhere, a shamisen played a soft, cheerful tune. The festival was alive—too alive for someone like Reine, who preferred edges over centres.
He drifted toward the river.
Lanterns floated on the water there, hundreds of them, each carrying a handwritten wish. They moved slowly, like stars that had forgotten the sky and settled for the river instead.
Reine leaned against the railing, eyes following one lantern until it disappeared under a bridge.
"What kind of wishes do people even write?" he wondered.
That was when he heard a voice.
"Excuse me—!"
It was soft, but urgent enough to cut through the noise.
Reine turned.
She stood just a few steps away, holding a paper lantern carefully with both hands, as if afraid it might break if she breathed wrong. Her yukata was pale blue, patterned with tiny white flowers. Her dark hair was tied loosely, a few strands escaping to frame her face.
Her eyes met his.
For half a second, neither of them spoke.
"Oh—sorry," she said quickly, bowing slightly. "I didn't mean to startle you. I just—um—do you know where they're releasing the lanterns?"
Reine blinked once.
"…Here," he said, gesturing toward the river. His voice came out quieter than he expected. "You can let it go from there."
Relief crossed her face, followed by a small, genuine smile.
"Thank you. I was worried I'd miss it."
She stepped closer to the railing, standing beside him—not too close, not too far. Just… there.
For a moment, they watched the water together.
The lantern in her hands glowed softly, illuminating her fingers.
"You came alone?" she asked, glancing at him.
"…Yeah."
She nodded, as if that made perfect sense.
"Me too."
That surprised him.
Most people came in groups—friends, families, couples. Yet here she was, alone, just like him.
Silence settled between them, but it wasn't awkward. It felt… careful.
"What did you write?" Reine asked before he could stop himself.
She looked down at the lantern, hesitating.
"A selfish wish," she admitted with a faint laugh. "Something I didn't know who else to tell."
He didn't ask what it was.
Instead, he said, "I think those are the best kind."
Her eyes widened slightly, then softened.
"…I think so too."
She crouched, gently placing the lantern onto the river's surface. For a second, her fingers lingered, as if she wasn't ready to let go.
Then she released it.
The lantern drifted away, joining the others.
Reine found himself watching her face instead of the light.
"By the way," she said, standing back up. "My name is Reuko Hanazawa."
There it was—the moment where names mattered.
"…Reine," he replied. "Reine Aoyama."
She repeated it quietly, as if testing how it sounded.
"Reine Aoyama."
Something about the way she said it made his chest tighten.
"I'm glad I met you tonight," she said suddenly, then froze. "Ah—I mean—not in a strange way! Just—"
"It's okay," Reine said, a small smile appearing before he realised it. "Me too."
Fireworks exploded overhead, painting the sky in white and gold.
For a brief moment, under drifting lanterns and falling sparks, two strangers stood side by side—unaware that this quiet meeting would stretch far beyond a single summer night.
Unaware that this was only the first page of something much longer.