Preparing for the School Festival (2)
“Also, stoves, burners, or anything that produces an open flame are strictly prohibited. Apparently, there was a fire incident a few years ago.”
“Seriously? Another mess caused by our predecessors…?”
“What’s with our alumni, honestly?”
“Couldn’t agree more…”
“I guess a long history means there were bound to be some screw-ups along the way…”
“Wait, does that mean our school has been a problem child all along?”
Though now just a typical public high school with unimpressive academic achievements, our school still boasted a rich history, tracing its roots back to a pre-war secondary school.
But that long history also seemed to be littered with incidents that gave rise to countless rules and restrictions.
I hadn’t known much about these issues until I attended the festival planning committee with Hasumin as part of our responsibilities as class reps. That’s when we were filled in on all the gory details.
“So, every time our predecessors caused trouble, more rules got added, bringing us to where we are now. With that background in mind, does anyone have any ideas?”
““““…””””
My question was met with complete silence from the class.
Some students visibly slumped in their chairs, shoulders sagging in defeat.
The excitement from earlier had completely evaporated, leaving the room cloaked in a gloomy silence.
(Ugh, I messed up. My approach totally killed the vibe.)
Looking back, I realized I had spent most of the discussion rejecting everyone’s ideas.
When people hear their suggestions shot down repeatedly, it’s only natural for their enthusiasm to wane.
Once demotivated, they’re unlikely to speak up again, fearing further rejection.
Having once been the epitome of an introvert, I should have known better.
(I should’ve let them brainstorm freely first and then weeded out the unfeasible ideas later.)
As I silently berated myself,
“Um, I have an idea. May I share it?”
Hasumin, who had been quietly manning the blackboard beside me, raised her hand and spoke up.
It seemed she was throwing me a much-needed lifeline.
“Of course. Let’s hear it.”
“So, about the cosplay café idea—what if, instead of going all out on costumes, we just unify the color scheme?”
“Unify the colors? How?”
“We’d run a regular café, but everyone would wear outfits in the same color. Those who want to cosplay can still do so as long as it matches the theme, while others can keep it simple. This way, we’d have a cohesive look, making it stand out more than a typical café. We could even decorate everything to match the color theme.”
(That’s brilliant. It keeps costs low, creates a sense of unity, and lets people cosplay if they want. Plus, it satisfies everyone’s desire to serve food. As expected of Hasumin.)
It seemed I wasn’t the only one who thought so—
“That’s a great idea, Hasumi-san!”
“Yeah, this works even for those of us short on allowance!”
“I love it!”
“Count me in!”
“Same here!”
“Me too!”
Hasumin’s suggestion breathed life back into the class, reviving the energy that had been completely drained just moments ago.
“Thanks, Hasumin. You really saved the day and turned the mood around.”
When I whispered my gratitude,
“After attending the festival planning meeting, I realized how strict the rules were, so I thought up some ideas just in case. If others had good suggestions, I wouldn’t have shared mine, but I’m glad I did.”
She replied matter-of-factly, as though it was no big deal.
“Your thoughtfulness really saved us. I owe you a cake for this.”
“Really? Lucky me! Oh, make it a set, by the way.”
She added with a mischievous grin.
“Alright, let’s finalize things. Does anyone else have ideas or preferences?”
“Nope!”
“No objections!”
“Hasumin’s idea is perfect!”
“I’m on board too!”
“Alright, our class project for the school festival will be the ‘Unified Color Café (Cosplay Optional).’ We’ll decide on the official name later, so start brainstorming some suggestions.”
At my words, Hasumin neatly wrote “Unified Color Café (Cosplay Optional)” on the blackboard.
We then decided to serve pancakes as the main dish—easy to make and hard to mess up.
We’d top them with canned fruit and whipped cream, offering a few different variations.
The class agreed on red as the unified color, and we outlined a rough preparation schedule for the upcoming days.
However, we kept things flexible, as some students—like Date, who was a basketball team regular—would prioritize their club activities.
Even Hasumin had mentioned she’d be performing a light music set with her middle school friends.
Balancing the café with other commitments meant we couldn’t finalize every detail just yet.
Still, today’s homeroom ended on a productive and positive note.
“Thanks again, Hasumin.”
After class, I made sure to thank her one more time.