Raka sighed, wiping condensation off his soda can. "We still haven't fixed the floor upstairs, Hana. We should be saving money, not spending it on grilled corn and goldfish scooping."
Raka had always been the type to keep his head down and his life simple—until the day the ceiling of his tiny apartment literally gave way. Raka sighed, wiping condensation off his soda can
Hana pouted, her eyes wide and pleading—a look Raka had found increasingly hard to resist since she’d fallen into his living room. "But it's my first festival since... you know, the 'incident.' Besides, the landlord said the repairs don't start until Monday." Hana pouted, her eyes wide and pleading—a look
"Raka! Look at this!" Hana chirped, sliding a colorful flyer across the low table. It was for the local Tanabata festival. Look at this
Reluctantly, Raka agreed. That evening, the two navigated the crowded shrine grounds. The air was thick with the scent of yakisoba and the sound of distant flutes. For a few hours, the stress of their bizarre living situation melted away. As they stood under the glow of paper lanterns, writing their wishes on colorful strips of paper to tie to the bamboo, Raka looked at Hana.