“I’ve been thinking,” Nito said as we finished dinner.
There was no need to ask what about—it had to be the Lantern Flower Festival. She took out her sketchbook, opened it to a specific page, and then passed it to me. Charolles leaned in, shifting just a little closer to my side, and joined me in looking at the page.
“Wonderful...” she murmured, prompting me to give a nod of agreement.
Nito’s art skills were scarily good. If I’d been a little more refined, maybe I’d have been able to say what precisely made the art I was looking at wonderful, but, as it was, all that came to mind were tired cliches like it being immersive or pretty, or that the colors seemed to swallow me in. In some ways, those worn-out platitudes filling my head might have shown just how close to my heart it had struck.
I kept staring at the little painting on the sketchbook page, beautiful in the lantern light. It showed the village as seen from the bottom of the hill. The houses all stood shoulder to shoulder as they climbed the page, and the very tip of the temple was poking up over the few trees that surrounded it. The clouds were softened by the evening light, and the whole image inspired a sense of nostalgic homesickness.
“U-Um... It’s embarrassing seeing you look at it so closely,” Nito fretted, fingers twisting together. “Turn the page, please.”
The next paintings depicted the temple, the theater on Mercian Street, and Fago’s house.
“Um, I thought we could write on the backs of these and make them into invitations.”
For the festival?
“That’s...an interesting idea,” I said.
“But, uh,” she carried on, looking unsure and twirling her hair around a finger, “it’s just an idea...not anything concrete. I was wondering what I could do to help. I don’t know how these things work, and I can’t infer people’s feelings like you can...so all I could think of was painting.”
She lifted her head to peek at my reaction.
“So...these will be, um, a real invitation! With all my feelings behind it!” she exclaimed, clenching her fist.
I could only stare back at her, dumbfounded. Her best idea for swaying people that had already refused once, due to either personal circumstances or a lack of interest...was an invitation with all her feelings behind it?
“That’s... Nito, you...”
Charolles took over from me as I struggled to string a sentence together.
“You have a very straightforward way of thinking.”
“Yeah, straightforward,” I echoed. “Seriously, right down the middle.”
Nito paused, her ears drooping.
“So it won’t work?” she asked.
At the same moment, I felt an elbow dig into my side. I jolted, a sound the likes of which I’d never heard before escaping my mouth. While trying to overcome the pain she’d inflicted, I glared at Charolles, but she didn’t even look in my direction. Sure, I might have been in the wrong there, but still, she was merciless; plus, she didn’t have to look so nonchalant about it.
“That’s not it. It’s just such a straightforward idea that I hadn’t thought of it. I was surprised, is all,” I answered, rubbing my side. “Normally I’d give up on simply asking if someone refused the first time, and I’d try to think of some other way to persuade them. I just tell myself that it’s a problem that needs to be solved and then get all guarded.”
Now, I couldn’t puff out my chest and call that an adult way of thinking. It wasn’t even that someone had told me that there was a “right” answer and that I had to do things that way. I always got caught up in my thoughts, was all—telling myself I had to do things right, go about things logically, when really what I needed to do was just go for it.
“So...I think your idea might be just what we need.”
I suspected that this occasional clash in philosophies might have been just what the two of us needed. Still, Nito’s expression was uneasy.
“But Paula seemed like she really didn’t want to come...”
“I’m sure it’ll work out. If you bring her such a wonderful invitation, she’ll have no choice but to accept. You can take advantage of her kindness.”
“Just so you know,” Charolles interjected, “what you’re saying is awful.”
“Well, could you refuse an invitation like that from Nito?” I asked.
“I’d like to see someone who could,” she admitted.
Nito’s power of persuasion had to be off the charts if even Charolles had that much confidence about it. I realized that having Nito make a straightforward request might actually be the best idea.
“Right, let’s do it!” I exclaimed.
After an uncertain pause, Nito asked, “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. It’ll definitely work,” I told her, and her expression finally relaxed.
The three of us put our heads together over Nito’s sketchbook, almost like generals leaning over a map at a war meeting.
“By the way, I don’t know how you make these sorts of invitations,” I admitted.
“You put the recipient and a short greeting, then give the time and place of the event, and that’s all. We need to decide what to put for those first,” Nito told me.
“We can leave the first two for now. Let’s start with when and where to have the festival,” Charolles commented.
“We can hold it here, can’t we? After all, it’s for the saint,” I suggested. “I asked Fago and she said all we need is food, firewood, and lantern flowers. There should be enough firewood in the temple’s store.”
“There aren’t many of us, so it will be difficult to get everything ready quickly,” Nito said slowly, mulling things over.
Charolles gave a bright laugh.
“Did you forget about my bag? I have plenty of fresh food, and I can carry as much firewood and as many lantern flowers as you’d like.”
After letting the moment sink in for a bit, I spoke up.
“That’s our Charoemon, reliable as ever.”
“Are you mocking me?”
“Not at all!”
Our discussion about the festival carried on like that for a while. We talked about using the food stored on Mercian Street that Paula had mentioned, about how the lantern flowers grew by the lake so we’d have to go pick them, about how to make the campfire, and more besides. We had a fairly good time planning things; after all, we were excited. Up till now, all we’d had in our lives was a sense of inevitable loss, of everything ending. It was like scooping up sand and watching it trickle out between your fingers, disappearing little by little. Planning an event like this, laughing together as we discussed our ideas with others, added more sand to our cupped palms.
We talked and talked, deciding on many things, until the final decision left was when to do it. No one had real plans in this world anymore, since anything you might prioritize had already gone.
“I think we should go with tomorrow,” Nito said firmly.
“Why tomorrow?” I asked curiously, and she smiled shyly at me as she replied.
“Well, if we put it off, the loneliness will start to feel stronger than the eagerness. That’s why I think we should do it tomorrow, so we can have the festival while we’re still eager for it.”
I voiced my agreement. Eagerness and loneliness were like two sides of a coin, but in this world, loneliness was just that little bit stronger. If Nito wanted to do the festival tomorrow, we had no reason to object.
“Tomorrow, then,” I concluded.
“This might sound a bit odd coming from me, considering I suggested it in the first place, but...you don’t think that’s a bit too soon...?”
“That’s okay. Everyone could do with some enjoyment,” Charolles commented, earning a smiling nod from Nito.
“All right, tomorrow it is!”