Tanabata

(3/3)

Down by the lake, a few minutes away from the event's completion, a group of middle-aged men gather with a number of crates laid on the dirt beside them. It's a scenic sight, the lake of floating lights, and they look out towards their work at the festival with grins that push the edges of their faces. This year had happened without incident, thankfully, and the townsfolk seemed to be recovering from last year's unfortunate accidents, lending the star festival some of its necessary light-heartedness for the tradition's rejuvenation. 

And now all that was left to wrap things up was the final fireworks show.

Their mortars lay dormant, set by the frontier of the lake. Large, dark barrels of gunpowder and explosives, the heavy metal pipes were of no short work to set up. One of the men eyes the crowd gathering by the shore in the distance, right by the entrance to town. A shadowy figure approaches them from the darkness, jogging; when their image catches the light of the passing lights, the leader of the pack identifies them with a shout. "Nice work Yamamura!"

"Thanks!" Yamamura's smile is a brilliant fire, teeth bared with pride pushing through each dimple marked on their expression. "I hope that's enough people for now. I bet there'll be more trickling in once they catch sight of the sky above. Are we ready to begin the show?"

His senior snorts, arms folded and wearing a smirk to his question. "We've been ready for days by now. I know the heavens will smile upon us, and grace our families with a sight they've never seen before." The racing in his heart was powerful, confidence growing with each thump. "It'll be amazing. I just know it."

Yamamura nods to his answer, checking on their audience once more. Several handfuls of players alongside Taft's citizens, the latter outnumbering the amount of the former. "Mind if I have the honors, captain?" He asks with a turn of his head, his voice sweetened with a gentle eagerness.

"Hah!" 'Captain' sets his hands upon his hips, chuckling with joy. "You're years too early to be the one behind the fuse, kid!"

Still, when he calms down from his laughter, he signals two of his men to make the final checks on their equipment with a gesture. They pace forward, careful in their work, as the senior returns a look of smugness to them, fidgeting with the toothpick in his mouth. "But Tanabata is all about wishes, isn't it? And you've been working hard the past couple months."

"Aye, sir!"

"Then." A hand lands on his shoulder, the grip firm in its hold and tender in its meaning as the two exchange a glistening determination, locked away behind their sights. "My young protégé, Yamamura. Out of everyone around us, I can think of no one else better to usher in a new era of hope. On this year, on this night."

They share their excitement with a smile. When the team's inspection is complete, he hands Yamamura a match box.

"Strike it hard and fast, my boy." He does so, kneeling over their thread. The blaze that he lights is strong, unwavering, unmalleable against the gentle breeze that sways the scene around them. When he dips its red onto the greys, the spark trails rapidly towards their equipment, Yamamura taking a step back as he hands his captain the rest of his box.

Each member holds their breath in anticipation. In the distance, some of the players point towards their location, beaming to each other before looking to the skies. Others, the lucky few settled in their dinghys for a much wanted heartwarming mood, hold a few lanterns and snacks vigil in their hands, gaze already trained on the starry abyss above.

The first shell is launched. It is loud, and the workmen lighten up as the ground rumbles from beneath them. An explosion in the air causes the crowd to erupt into cheers and excited hollers. As more follow, the night sky is filled with a variety of lights, and its audience begins to grow.

[♩]

As the minutes begin to pass, there is a quake that occurs, one of the men notices. Just at a moment when it shouldn't have. He passes it off as a trick of his imagination, until another tremor, harsher this time, is felt from below him. Behind their little gathering, the vegetation rustles uncontrollably, leaves drifting off from their branches in tandem. 

"Hey," he turns to one of his comrades. "Is it just me, or--"

--He never gets to finish his sentence.

The players at the heart of the lake are the first to experience the distortion. Their boats start to catch water, the waves growing violent, sinking their vessels in a matter of seconds. Then, through the surface, a shaded form erupts.

One scaly, craggily claw. It eclipses the moon, the outline of its ridges stealing its light completely. Its emergence sends rain pouring down from above and cloaks the citizens below in an eternal darkness.

With one fierce slam, it crashes into the lake it disturbs, nails sinking deep into the dirt underneath the bed of the water. All at once, there is a void that is formed; the liquid cosmos, the stars that litter its presence rush to fall victim to the empty space, vanishing into the hole that was freshly torn open. A torrential waterfall forms, life and light and hope now lost to the gaping maw of the floor below them. Vanishing into the abyss.

That darkness, it is hungry. A festering of deep rooted anger burns bright within the crevice, that black hole, a blood red glow piercing into the skies above as the eyes of a god cuts into the hearts of its onlookers. The few who still stand, caught off guard, find themselves teetering on the brink, struck unmoving at the precipice of death.

[TIER ONE] | [TIER TWO] | [TIER THREE]

"Hey did you hear? They're about to start the fireworks show!"

"Eh?!"

The woman finds herself astonished by the passing discussion, held by two partners walking side by side one another. Was it that late into the night already? She eyes the passing players by her post as they start to trickle out of her vicinity, some of them leaving behind unfinished materials and unsigned papers in the mix. When no one else is present, her gaze rests upon the entrance to the bamboo forest.

--She should probably go; it would be hard to find a good vantage point to watch the closing ceremony if she'd stuck around too long at her stall. But the thought of the wishes going unnoticed, abandoned by their original authors did not settle well with her, in the young woman's heart. So it was with a begrudging sigh and a quick shuffle of her feet that she got to cleaning up the area at lightning speed, picking up the leftovers and building a small pile on a table to the side.

"Hey."

The voice that prompts for her attention shocks her, and she whips around in a spirited manner. The one who stares back at her is a raven-haired youth, too, her eyes a sleepy crimson as compared to the stall owner's cherry reds. On the stranger's back is a black guitar case, hands in their dark jacket's pockets as she shuffles towards her in a stoic manner.

"You're cleaning up before you head over to the fireworks show, aren't you? I'll help."

"H-hey, wait--"

Too late. Their advance quickly takes them towards the table furthest away from her post. She watches them pick up the pamphlets and the litter strewn across the field. With a second exhale, she lets their odd kindness go and continues to pick up her paces herself.

It is within minutes that they accomplish their janitorial task. With the piles of papers filed and kept away in a drawer by the tanzaku desk, the stall owner huffs with two hands on their sides. "Thanks for your help," she offer to the other, who nods back at her with little remorse.

"It's not over yet, though," the musician returns, picking up a paper from the pile of lost wishes. "We still have to hang these up first, don't we?"

"That's my job. You should head down to the lake instead."

The store owner attempts to refutes the stranger's generosity with a wave of her hand, but before she could continue, her company had already set off to the forest with the waxed tickets in hand.

"O-Oi! At least listen to me before doing things on your own!"

"It's fine," she returns, pulling a handful of thread from her pockets. Her voice is kept monotone, still, as the brunette races to catch up with her. "I know you're worried we'll miss the show too. But if we get through this together, we should be able to make it in time."

The stranger turns her head as she finishes knotting a wish, towards the halted lady, who shoots her a curious look in return. "C'mon, there's no need to put your time on the line."

"Don't worry about it. Store owners like us have to work together sometimes."

"Eh?"

A curious comment. The tanzaku expert tilts her head to the side just as her acquaintance offers her a set of papers to hang up herself. She takes them, hesitant, but carries on with her job, listening to her newfound companion while fumbling with the strings in her hand.

"Mariette. Birdkeeper," she introduces herself. "On the other side of town. Just because I'm new to the job doesn't mean I haven't seen you around before."

"Then how come I didn't recognize you at first glance?" Surely she'd been present at other Tanabata festivals before too, hadn't she?

"I'm usually walking around in a hoodie. Don't like to be seen very much."

The woman snorts in response to the youth's comment, stopping her work for a moment. Mariette returns a light smile to her amusement. "Hey. It's not exactly that funny."

"Yeah, yeah you're right." She picks up her pace after taking a glance at her company's near-depleted pile. "--Chiharu, by the way. That's my name, since you gave me yours."

"Chiharu," her companion repeats, hanging up the last of the wishes on a low bamboo branch. "Got it. It's nice to be working with you, Chiharu."

"Likewise."

They both take a step back from their work when Chiharu is done, taking in the forest view, now decorated with a variety of different colours. "I should make my wishes here next year," Mariette comments, as her company nods to her with confidence.

"Yeah. It's fun!" The tanzaku keeper stretches, arms behind the back of her head. "A good mental exercise, and a way to get your feelings out."

"Aye."

Without missing a beat, a crier calls from behind them. "Five more minutes! The display will be live in five more minutes!"

Chiharu grins, a sparkle in her eye. "Looks like we still have time after all."

"Looks like it." Mariette tilts her head towards the exit of the forest, as nonchalant as ever. "Shall we go?"

"Yes!"

The two women leave the forest behind with quick shuffles and agile steps. As they exit the scene, the bamboo stalks sway delicately with a light gust of wind, turning the dangling wishes around in place. Gentle and animated, colours catching the light of the moon, even the cosmos which watched over their offered collection were exuberant for the final shower of lights.

(2/3)

Tanabata 2020 has reached its conclusion. Thank you for participating!
Please look to the following for your individual thread rewards. We hope you've enjoyed the festival!

Tanabata Celebration: Day 7

All was quiet through the house. Only the faint chatter of the crowd around Taft could be heard, alongside the light breathing of the boys scattered across the living room. The hour was late, the children asleep in makeshift forts made out of pillows and blankets. Each of them wore a contented smile upon their tranquil faces.

It was a similar sight in Shoji's bedroom; his closest friends were sprawled across the floor in mattresses, the youth only keeping a lion-bust night light on to keep vigil. Moonlight still poured onto the bed from a corner, curtains only cracked open halfway. Two boys were kept wide awake by the events of today; Masaki tucked away snugly under the blankets upon his friend's bed, and Shoji seated right beneath him, silent by the side of its frame.

Shoji listens, diffident, to his friend speak from above him, back pushed against the drawers of his cabinet. "I really appreciate it," comes Masaki's soothing words, slowly untangling the knot of his worries. "The paper train you all made for me." Gentle, responsible and earnest Masaki beams just as the moon does, visible through his window. The young host smiles back at him when he catches his comrade's grin, stopping his fidgeting fingers.

"I'm glad! It was a rushed job at the end, but I hope everything stays in tact."

The paper model sits still on the other corner of the square room. It's large in comparison to the rest of the little space; nearly enough to stretch from wall to wall, but their group found a nook to fit it in, sandwiched between the closet and the nightstand.

"It doesn't seem rushed," the bedded boy returns, matter-of-factly. "Really, it looks all intact."

"Then that's good news then," Shoji comments. His muscles loosen as his head meets the wood behind him, knowing full well that he can afford to relax.

"Say."

"Hmm?"

His darkened eyes meet Masaki's own black. "Why a train, anyway? I appreciate the model work, but I thought that was kind of weird."

"Eh?" Shoji jumps, balking at the unexpected response. His voice dwindles down to as best a whisper he can manage, though his excitement hadn't seemed to stir his sleeping friends. "Oh, um... Didn't you tell us a story about a train once?"

"I did?"

"Uh-- yeah!"

It was strange to hear his mature friend forgetting, though it was hard to fault him for his loss; after all the stories he'd find to share with them, perhaps it was something only locked within his original team that collectively decided to cherish this one tale. "It was about this railway in the sky," the boy recalls, eyes reflecting a passing cloud from overhead. "And there were cranes, and swans sailing around each station, the stars clusters as river foam you could reach out and scoop up with your hands..."

"And the bells?"

"And the bells," Shoji continues, "you'd described it as a haunting melody at first, one the passengers were once afraid to hear. But it was calm and sweet all the same, like a tender embrace from someone you'd lost. As the songs went on, they eventually relaxed, and continued on enjoying their ride."

Masaki hums. Against the midnight sky, Shoji finds it hard to read his expression. He hopes in his heart the boy isn't cross with him for nearly mentioning their friend's demise, but Masaki shifts to right himself out from the bed -- he's not upset, rather amused, eyes lit up with curiosity.

"Ah," he replies, after a moment of contemplation. "I can't remember it at all..."

"That's okay," Shoji answers. "Do you want to see the train fly?"

"Wait--"

The comment completely catches Misaki by surprise. He jolts awake completely, nearly falling off the edge of the bed. "It-- It can fly?"

"Maybe!" His friend remarks. Then he feels a cold uncertainty creep in. "Probably." The recipe hadn't been of their own making completely; rather, it was given to one of their friends by chance by one of the strangers arriving in town, just before the festival. "It's not like we've tested it yet, but we can give it a shot--"

"--I do." Misaki replies. His eyes twinkle like the stars in the night sky. "I do want to see it fly. Let's try it out!"

Shoji is stunned by his enthusiasm, but when he recovers, he gives the other a nod. "Yeah. Okay -- let's do it."

Misaki almost bounds out of bed just as Shoji picks himself up from the floor. They rush over to the train in silent, small steps. Right underneath the table was where they'd set up their stash of gravity defying dust, and Shoji pulls out a smaller package after crouching down and searching in the dark, unraveling its outer shell in his hands.

"Here," he offers, two hands holding up the opened paper. In the shadows, the powder is coated grey, but small grains of unbelievable white seem to peer through from within the folded pile. "Take a pinch of it. I heard that that's enough for a small run."

His friend complies, three fingers picking up a somewhat solid mush in his hands. It feels like wet sand, but coarser; if he rubs it between his index and thumb, the boy is certain the contents he holds would give way.

"Just sprinkle it on top," Shoji orders. Misaki follows them, only loosening his grip when he stops above the train model itself. Like magic, the sand crumbles at his touch; what once felt thick only now trickle down to a fine few bits of starlight, dissipating upon the paper construct after a few seconds of lingering.

Nothing happens as Shoji folds up the package. Then, the show continues. The model rail levitates, taking on a gentle, iridescent glow. A mix of golden hues envelop it for a beat before it rises up into the air. The boys hold their breath, stepping backwards -- the rails that were once stacked up in a pile by its side take on a red and white tint each, starting to float and line up in midair as well, creating a winding passageway around the room.

It's hard to keep still with the disbelief and wonder in the air. As Shoji and Misaki start to giggle, glancing between each other before returning their gaze to the paper craft, the train begins to glide along the route made for it, faux machinery on its design starting to move and bend out of its still shapes. A real train; that's what the toy could be mistaken for, miniature and minute, chugging puffs of cold vapor into the air. Its journey is accompanied by the shouts and excitement of the two boys as its sole audience.

--Not any more. Their cheeriness finally starts to wake the household up, the group specifically in their room coming to stir from their slumbers first. The moment their blurry visions rest on the colorful lights or catch sight of the snapping tracks and the snaking train, their hollers join the choir of excitement, adrenaline pumping through their veins. It doesn't take long for the door to fly open, the Milky Way Rail greeting the rest of the pack of children, and together as one unit, one fraternity, their ardor and vivacity for the unbelievable fuels them into the new dawn.

On their living room wall, the clock strikes twelve, and a surge of fireworks light up the pitch void outside their window. The stars twinkle with mischief and warmth for their new era, and for a moment, in Aincrad, all was right with the world.

(1/3)

It is said that not all of the divines were satisfied with Orihime and Hikoboshi’s obsession with each other. However, it seems that the story rings differently tonight.

“Woah, look at that!”

Up on a hillside right by town, an astronomer points out the several lights flashing in the sky, brighter than most of the stars that populate the dark. At his calling, several of his associates gather round to his side, eyes set towards the twinkling void. In brilliant white streaks, the lights tore through the night in diagonals, a handful at a time, before the rest of the choir joined in behind them. The group let out an audible gasp as they took in the astonishing view, but they weren’t the only ones to have noticed the interesting phenomenon.

Down at the festival, a handful of players could be seen halting their tracks as the stall vendors gawked at the meteor shower, too.

[A meteor shower has begun! Players may choose to observe this until the end of the next page.]