The promise was hyped, but Misao had to put her trust. It was a heavy bet that if she lost, she would be in a great deal of trouble in school. But on the other side she wanted to give Ibuki a chance to prove his ability. She was on a thin line and held on with pronounced force. As it is, such force requires energy, so much so, she had to give up on her sleep for it. In the morning, a damp sunny one, she arrived at Ibuki's house at the time he had proposed. She stood erect at the forepart of Ibuki's house, which was clamped between two large buildings, turning it into a suffocating chamber of devilry.
Nevertheless, Ibuki's family endured such conditions in the heat of Incheon. Misao momentarily lost her view of the house as she pondered about the rest of the street. Ibuki called her out from behind. He was holding a bag, and Misao gave a sigh of relief on it. He rushed to her and handed her the bag. Ibuki asked her to come into his house, but she refused and headed back home to leave for school.
Before leaving for school, she opened the bag to see the costumes. They were neatly placed and alluring. Misao smiled, knowing Ibuki had given his best to make the costumes, and they were worthy of appreciation. Thereafter, she immediately left for school.
The whole campus was decorated for the festival with bright colours. Students wore their specific club uniforms and set up their stalls as part of the club fair included in the school festival. Misao turned about only to find in the shadows of two oaks, nearly invisible, Yunho and the stall for the art club. Disappointment struck Misao. She approached the stall with a dejected face, "Yunho, how is the stall coming?"
Yunho greeted her and, pouting in disappointment, said, "We need more people to work with. With only two of us, especially with you as the class president, this stall is more like a discarded commodity of this school."
Misao heaved and placed the costumes on the table next to her, "Even my one-week time is also up. Where am I to find members for this club? How come no one in this entire school is interested in art? That is not even realistically possible. It should at least be the third most popular in the school."
Yunho nodded his head slowly. "These are the costumes?" he asked.
Misao nodded, "Yes."
But even with the costumes ready, they weren't cheered. They looked at each other with discontent and sighed. Eventually, citing the value of time, Misao took her leave to go to meet the history club for the last rehearsal of the play before the final show.
It was all chaos in the room as the club had ensued a very serious debate over Korea's future. Opinions of various kinds were thrown in the air amongst loud shouts and yells. Such a scene wouldn't even take place amongst political members making a decision. Misao was distraught at the sight of it. It seemed that given their county's future, the club had lost sight of their immediate future in the school festival.
Finally, Misao gave in and yelled to silence the room. The club turned to her and greeted her. She cleared her throat and said, "Alright, you can resume your very important debate after the festival is over, but right now, we need to do the last rehearsal of the play."
The club nodded unanimously and began the rehearsal. In the meantime, Youra and Joon-Woo came in to check on the preparations. They stood at the door of the room to see how the play was to be. The final show was six hours away, and the play was thirty minutes long. But Misao also had to do other things. She was to be at the forefront of the class presentation, given she was the class president. In addition to that, she had to oversee a few of the stalls of the clubs she was part of.
Ibuki also passed by the practice room and saw the members wear his made costumes. He was happy. He could see everyone was fascinated by his costumes, and he felt appreciated. He came and stood by the door, just a step behind Youra and Joon-Woo.
The play was a disaster. Joon-Woo and Youra's expressions and Misao's long faces of utter disappointment at the club's presentation said it all. Ibuki was the only one who was least affected by the outcome of the play, for he was more interested in the costumes he had made.
Joon-Woo approached Misao and whispered, "You know what I want to say."
"Uh-hu. It is a disaster. What am I to do? This is the death of the art club and my abilities."
The whole room went silent, knowing the play would be an embarrassment. Ibuki, realising what had happened, walked up to Misao and said, "Any ideas to fix it?"
Misao pouted, "I don't know."
Ibuki smiled and put his hand on Misao's head, "I am sure you will think of something."
But nothing came to Misao. She became blank. Ibuki felt sad for her, and that is when it struck. He jerked up in excitement, "I have an idea."
The whole room turned to him. "But it might be slightly difficult to execute."
Misao sighed and asked, "What is it?"
"You could, if you can, do a musical."
The idea was worth consideration, and Joon-Woo wanted Misao to look into it. But time wasn't much on their side nor resources at hand.
"It may require you to seek help from someone who knows dance," Ibuki added.
Misao heaved, "It is worth trying, but...."
Youra placed her hand on Misao's shoulder and said, "Maybe we can ask Ibuki's school dance club to help us."
Ibuki turned to Youra with a surprised look, "I won't do that."
"We are short in time and need resources, or else we are stuck with an embarrassing play," Youra reasoned.
Joon-Woo nodded in agreement with Youra and said, "She is right. Ibuki, please help us out." Suddenly, the whole room pleaded with Ibuki to ask his school's dance club to help them. Ibuki eventually gave in and agreed to talk to the dance club.
He went to meet the club. Within, he knew he didn't have much influence and had to consider some sort of bribery to lure the club to help Misao. Money as a bribe was not in any way an option to even be considered, and Ibuki didn't have any other wealth to trade. With not many material options to bribe the club with, Ibuki had to think of some creative options, and creativity is what he came up with.
"Clothes?!" the members exclaimed.
Ibuki nodded, "Yes, free clothes of whatever sort you want. But only if you help me."
The members discussed amongst themselves and then turned to Ibuki, "Alright. Don't back off of your promise, though."
Meanwhile, Misao and the rest of the room were on the edge of their seats, staring at the passing seconds that mocked them. Yunho approached Misao and said, "Will he get them to help us?"
Misao, scared to break Yunho's hopes, said, "I believe he will."
Their hopes did not shatter as Ibuki entered the room with five members of the dance club behind him.
"You asked for them; I got them."
Everyone rose with confidence. Now, their only challenge was time. The clock began to tick, and every minute felt like it had shrunk to a wink. While the group was practising, the rest of the school had begun their presentations. Junior classes were doing their presentations, and the club stalls were doing their demonstration. Three hours into the practice, the members were tiring out but could not afford to lose a minute. Pressure was mounting on the members and Misao. Time flew away, passing like the late spring breeze into the early summer. The audience for the shows began gathering in the auditorium, and the performers began warming up.
Joon-Woo, who had to leave for his duties, was concerned as to how Misao had come about. He saw Youra rushing out of the lab and ran to her, "Hey, Youra!"
"Make it quick. My science club is the first to go for the show," said Youra, panting.
Joon-woo let her go to avoid wasting her time and let it be on time to see Misao's play.
Finally, the moment for Misao's play arrived. She took a deep breath and went onto the stage to commence the performance. Ibuki looked at her. She looked confident as she stood on the stage. Her long hair was tied neatly in a crisp ponytail. Her eyes glared, and her face lit up with the light on the stage. Ibuki felt she looked beautiful, especially wearing the costume he had made. No one looked at her as keenly as he did, and no one found her as fragile yet challenging as he did.
Ibuki smiled, thinking, "Someone like you was the least I ever expected to meet. Misao, thank you."
Suddenly, the curtains went down, and Ibuki realised the play had ended. The whole auditorium erupted into loud claps.
Seeing this, Ibuki felt satisfied. When the group came down from the stage, he approached Misao. She smiled at him, "Thank You. Thank you very much."
Ibuki grinned. When was the last time someone ever thanked him so earnestly that he felt special and appreciated?
With a heart filled with colours of joy and admiration, he returned home. His mother, Mrs Cho, was working in the kitchen preparing orders for customers, and Maki was in her room studying. So, he did not disturb them much, and only letting them know his presence he went to his room. He sat under the slanting rays that entered his room through the window. The warmth he felt for the first time. He felt content.
"Brother! Brother!" Suddenly, Maki called out to her brother in a panicked voice. Ibuki rushed down to see what had happened. His sister held his hand, "Mom passed out in the kitchen!"
Ibuki was jolted. He dashed into the kitchen and found his mother lying on the floor. He immediately went and checked her. He tried to wake her up by sprinkling some water on her face. She woke up but weakly. Her eyes were barely open, and her mouth dry. Ibuki handed her water to drink. He asked Maki to help her mother to the couch while he went to call someone for help.
Not knowing who would be the best choice to call, he took the decision to call Misao.
When a panicked Ibuki called Misao, she immediately sent her father and brother to check in on him. They arrived at the street with an ambulance, and in a blink of an eye, Mrs Cho was admitted.
Mr Park stayed in the hospital to monitor Mrs Cho while Rui insisted Ibuki and Maki spent the night at their house. Ibuki agreed. He let Rui take Maki to his home while he went out for a stroll. All the excitement and joy he had felt drained in a flick of a moment. He sat under the starry night that, in that instant, seemed to scorn him. His eyes filled with tears as he blamed himself for all that had happened to his family. Maybe somewhere, he was nothing but a burden and a curse on his family. Maybe his father ended his life because of Ibuki. Ibuki stared up at the dark starry sky as if in confrontation with God, "Maybe they ask you to let them fly. I want to ask you to at least let me walk."