A Warmth That Stays

The lingering warmth of the previous evening still clung to Kozakura as he walked through the streets the next morning. The dinner with Hiyori's family had left an unexpected mark on him, one he wasn't sure how to describe. A part of him still felt the gentle weight of Hiyori's mother's hand on his own, the way her father had spoken to him with such quiet respect. It wasn't something he had ever experienced before.

He was lost in thought when a familiar voice broke through his reverie.

"Kozakura!" Hiyori called out, jogging up to him with her usual bright energy. "You didn't forget, did you?"

He blinked, momentarily confused. "Forget what?"

She pouted. "The summer festival! We talked about it last week! I swear, if I hadn't reminded you—"

"Relax," he cut in, smirking slightly. "I remember."

Hiyori narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Do you?"

He chuckled. "Yeah. Something about food stalls, fireworks, and you dragging me around all night. Sounds familiar."

"Ugh, you make it sound like a chore," she sighed, crossing her arms. "Come on, let's go. I'm picking out your yukata."

He raised an eyebrow. "You're picking it out?"

"Obviously. If I leave it up to you, you'll probably just wear something boring."

Kozakura rolled his eyes but let himself be pulled along. Truthfully, he didn't mind. Hiyori's enthusiasm was infectious in a way that made even the smallest things feel important.

The sun had begun to set by the time they arrived at the festival grounds, the sky painted in shades of orange and purple. Lanterns flickered to life along the streets, casting a golden glow over the bustling crowds. The air was thick with the scent of grilled skewers, sweet dango, and festival snacks.

Hiyori had, of course, chosen a yukata for him—deep navy with faint silver patterns. "It suits you," she had said with an approving nod. And though he didn't say it out loud, he thought she looked stunning in her own floral yukata, her usual energy softened by the warm light of the lanterns.

"Where to first?" he asked as they wove through the crowd.

"Takoyaki! Then goldfish scooping! Then… oh! We have to try the shooting game! I'm gonna win a prize."

Kozakura snorted. "You? Win a shooting game?"

She puffed up indignantly. "What's that supposed to mean?!"

"It means I'm winning that prize."

"Oh, it's on."

They spent the next hour hopping between stalls, laughing at Hiyori's failed attempts at goldfish scooping (which resulted in her nearly tipping the entire tub over), and bickering over who was better at ring toss (Kozakura won, much to Hiyori's dismay). He even ended up winning her a stuffed rabbit from the shooting game, which she held onto like a prized possession.

"See?" he said smugly as they walked through the festival grounds. "Told you I'd win."

Hiyori huffed, hugging the rabbit closer. "You cheated."

"How do you cheat at a shooting game?"

"You… you just did!"

He shook his head, amused. "Just admit you lost."

"Never."

As the night wore on, the excitement gradually gave way to a quieter atmosphere. They had found a spot near the riverbank, where the fireworks were set to go off. The sound of the festival still hummed behind them, but here, it was peaceful.

Hiyori sat beside him, her feet dangling just above the water. "Tonight was fun," she murmured, swaying slightly. "I'm glad you came."

"You would've dragged me here even if I said no," he pointed out.

She giggled. "Probably."

A comfortable silence stretched between them. The soft rustling of the trees, the distant chatter of festival-goers, the occasional flicker of fireflies in the night air—it all felt… right.

Then, the first firework soared into the sky, exploding into a brilliant display of gold and crimson. Hiyori let out a quiet gasp, eyes wide with wonder. Kozakura found himself watching her instead, the way the colors reflected in her eyes, the way she clutched the stuffed rabbit to her chest as if holding onto the moment itself.

"You're staring," she suddenly said, turning to face him.

He blinked. "Huh?"

She grinned. "Caught you."

Kozakura sighed, looking back at the fireworks. "You're imagining things."

"Mhm," she hummed, unconvinced.

Another burst of color lit up the sky, painting their surroundings in fleeting shades of blue and violet. Hiyori rested her chin on her knees, her expression thoughtful.

"Kozakura."

He glanced at her. "Yeah?"

"You looked really happy tonight."

He hesitated. It wasn't something he had consciously thought about, but… she was right. He had enjoyed himself—more than he expected to.

"Maybe I was," he admitted softly.

Hiyori beamed, nudging him lightly. "You should smile more. It suits you."

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "You're ridiculous."

As the fireworks continued to bloom across the sky, Hiyori let out a small, content sigh. "You know… nights like these don't come often. We should make the most of them."

Kozakura turned to her, watching the way the light flickered across her face. "Yeah," he murmured. "We should."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The warmth of summer, the distant sounds of festival music, the lingering scent of roasted food—it all wrapped around them, creating a moment neither of them wanted to end.

Hiyori shifted slightly, leaning ever so gently against his shoulder. "Just for a bit," she whispered. "It's comfortable like this."

Kozakura didn't move away. Instead, he let out a slow breath and closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to enjoy the warmth of her presence, the sound of her breathing, the peacefulness of it all.

And for the first time in a long while, he felt like he truly belonged.