Chapter LXII: Let the Games Begin! Part 1
The morning after the grand reopening does not feel quieter. It feels louder. The fireworks may be gone, the ceremonial speeches concluded, the torch still burning at the oval but the energy of the Starlight Festival does not diminish. It multiplies. It spreads into every avenue, every corridor, every field.
The next day is dedicated entirely to games. Competition fills the air. Excitement pulses like electricity through the university grounds. The dome above shimmers faintly in the early sunlight, invisible to most—but present, watchful, protective.
Inside the Virgo District, The Virgo Open Field wakes early. Morning dew still clings to the grass when volleyball nets are tightened, boundary lines are checked, and referees adjust their whistles. Bleachers slowly fill with students waving district-colored flags.
Samero stands near the sideline, adjusting his wrist tape. He inhales deeply, and momentarily exhales. His teammates stretch nearby, arms crossing over shoulders, legs lunging, shoulders rotating in wide arcs.
"Focus guys," their captain says. "First game sets the tone."
Samero nods. He jumps lightly in place, rolling his shoulders back. The ball is passed to him. He tosses it upward, and spikes. The crack of palm against ball echoes sharply. Cheers erupt from a small group of supporters.
"Again!" someone shouts.
They circle up. A clap of hands. Shout in rhythm.
"One! Two! Three! VIRGO!"
They break. The whistle blows. The first serve flies.
Samero watches its arc carefully, heart pounding not with fear, but with hunger. He moves instinctively, diving, rolling, standing again with determination in his eyes.
The game begins. And with it, the roar of competition.
Meanwhile in the Sagittarius District, inside the Sagittarius Gymnasium, the atmosphere is thicker. The air smells of varnished wood and sweat. The scoreboard lights up in bright red digits.
Kuebiko stands alone for a moment near the bench. His team uniform lies folded neatly, deep navy trimmed with gold. He reaches down and picks it up slowly. The fabric feels heavier than usual. He stares at the jersey. And memory pulls him backward.
He flashbacks to weeks earlier. Kuebiko leans against the railing outside the Aquarius building.
"Hageshi," he says casually, "you're still playing basketball this year, right?"
Hageshi stands beside him, looking at the court below. Silence lingers for a moment longer than expected.
"I'm sorry, Kuebiko; but... I'm not," Hageshi finally answers.
Kuebiko frowns slightly.
"What? Why?"
Hageshi exhales slowly.
"After what happened back then... when those hoods attacked us... we almost died."
His voice is calm, but firm.
"I don't want to create complications."
Kuebiko raises an eyebrow.
"Complications. What do you mean by complications?"
"If something happens again," Hageshi continues, "if the enemy strikes... I don't want to be stuck in two responsibilities."
He looks at Kuebiko.
"I choose the festival dance. One event to focus."
Kuebiko studies his face.
"You're serious?"
"Yeah."
The silence between them carries unspoken understanding.
Back to the present as the memory fades. A cold breath brushes Kuebiko's ear suddenly.
He jolts.
"Hey!" his teammate laughs. "You zoning out again?"
Kuebiko blinks and chuckles awkwardly.
"Yeah, sorry."
"Warmups. Now."
He nods. He puts on the jersey. The number on his chest feels like responsibility. He jogs onto the court. The ball bounces sharply against hardwood. The game waits for no one.
Meanwhile, inside the Aquarius District's Technology Complex, the atmosphere is entirely different. There's no grass, unless if you want to touch grass. No hardwood. Instead, there are screens, chairs, cables, and energy drinks.
Takeshi, Miran, Katsunan, Nakao, Aoto, and Okaki gather around a long table filled with devices.
"Powerbanks?" Takeshi asks.
"Check," Miran replies.
"Charging cords?"
"Check."
"Backup mobile data?"
Katsunan raises two routers proudly.
"Triple redundancy."
Nakao smirks.
"If we lag, we riot."
Okaki laughs.
"We're not losing because of Wi-Fi."
They test connections. They open the game. They check ping. The tournament bracket is displayed on a large screen behind them. It's District vs District. The eSports battlefield is as intense as any physical court.
"Remember," Takeshi says, cracking his knuckles, "no overextending."
"Unless I say so," Miran adds.
They grin. The tournament begins soon.
Elsewhere, beneath rows of colorful banners, Inoshiro, Ryujin, Hageshi, and Haruto wander through the stalls of the Food and Trade Fair along Aquarius Avenue.
They are not competing today. They are just spectators, explorers, or hungry teenagers whatever you want to call them.
"French fries first," Haruto declares.
They approach a stall blasting pop music from a speaker. Four large servings later, they walk again, each holding a bag of fries. Next, frappes and hot chocolate. Then hash browns. Then takoyaki. The smells mix into a glorious chaos of fried comfort and sweet indulgence.
As they pass stalls, they read the signs aloud.
"Attack on Ramen," Hageshi says, laughing.
"Hinokami Yakisoba," Ryujin reads.
"Snacks at Work," Inoshiro chuckles.
They stop at a stall decorated entirely with a familiar yellow face wearing academic robes.
"Kuro-Sensei!" Haruto exclaims.
The stall owner waves enthusiastically.
"Buy one, get assassination free!" he jokes.
They laugh. They continue walking until they reach the Sakura Tree near the Technology Complex. The blossoms sway gently in the breeze. Petals drift down occasionally. They sit beneath it.
Fries nearly finished, drinks half-empty, they begin. The memes, the universal language.
"Have you seen the 'Is this a pigeon?' one?" Haruto asks.
Inoshiro bursts out laughing.
"Every time someone misidentifies something!"
Ryujin nods.
"And the surprised Pikachu face."
Hageshi grins.
"That one never dies."
Inoshiro scrolls his phone.
"And the 'Woman yelling at a cat' one."
They laugh loudly.
"Also," Inoshiro adds, "the 'Uno Reverse Card.'"
Hageshi slaps his knee.
"Ultimate defense move."
They exchange meme references endlessly, layering humor upon humor until their stomachs hurt. Then Inoshiro suddenly freezes.
"Wait."
"What?" Haruto asks.
"Pewdiepie's sub count."
They all pause. They pull out their phones. They check. It's still going. Still climbing and still fighting. Ryujin exhales.
"It's not over."
Hageshi smirks.
"It never was."
They grin like conspirators who just witnessed history continuing to unfold.
On the other side of the avenue, Saki, Rikiyo, and Kitsune walk slowly, each holding paper trays of takoyaki and fluffy Fuwa-Fuwa bread. They chew happily.
Rikiyo talks animatedly about BTS choreography. Kitsune responds with enthusiastic agreement.
"And have you seen the latest performance?" Rikiyo asks.
"Yes!" Kitsune squeals. "The synchronization is insane."
Saki smiles quietly. She listens. But occasionally her fingers brush against something cool around her neck. The silver key.
As they approach the end of the stalls, they see four familiar figures beneath the Sakura Tree. Haruto stands suddenly.
"I'm getting cheese sticks," he announces and walks off.
Rikiyo smirks.
"Opportunity."
They approach.
"Inoshiro," Rikiyo says dramatically, "you look rounder."
Inoshiro gasps.
"Excuse me?"
She grins.
"All those fries."
He stands defensively.
"You're the one eating bread! You're like that red-haired baguette-lover who rivals Hatsune Miku"
Rikiyo gasps, "Take that back, you bowling ball!"
Kitsune laughs loudly.
They tease each other back and forth, calling each other dramatic, accusing each other of festival-induced weight gain.
Hageshi shakes his head, smiling. Meanwhile, Kitsune sits beside him.
"Have you been watching Attack on Titan?" she asks eagerly.
Hageshi's eyes light up.
"Of course."
They dive into discussion. The moral complexities. The shifting loyalties. The shocking revelations.
"The writing is insane," Hageshi says. "You think you understand the world, and then it flips everything."
Kitsune nods rapidly.
"And the character arcs!"
They talk animatedly about ideology, about freedom, about sacrifice.
Ryujin sits quietly. Saki sits beside him. There is space between them, but not that much. They both glance at each other... and then look away. Both blush apparently. The silence feels louder than the festival.
Ryujin notices something glinting, it's the key. The silver key he gave her.
"It looks good on you," he says softly.
Saki looks at him fully.
"Thank you," she replies, smiling gently.
Her voice is almost shy.
"I hope Ma'am Marielle won't find out about us," she says quietly.
Ryujin chuckles.
"My aunt? Come on. She won't know a thing."
He leans slightly closer.
"As long as we're there for each other. And keep this discreet. Nothing will happen."
Saki lowers her gaze slightly.
"I don't like the 'Diana Treatment' nowadays."
She expects confusion. Instead, Ryujin nods slowly.
"I know."
Her eyes widen slightly.
"That's why," he continues, "we keep it low."
There is understanding there. Mutual, and careful.
"Hey," Saki says softly.
"I have something to tell you."
She leans closer. Close enough for her breath to brush his ear. And then, she kisses his cheek. It is quick. Gentle, but real.
Ryujin freezes. His face warms instantly. She pulls back. They look at each other. Both blushing, and both smiling.
The Sakura petals fall softly around them. And for a moment, as the noise of volleyball. the echo of basketball, the tension of tournaments, and the weight of domes and security and responsibility all fade. There is only warmth. Only youth, and only possibility.
And above them, the dome remains strong. The festival continues. The games rage on. But beneath the blossoms, two hearts quietly begin something new.