Chapter 22

With the date of the Bon Festival set and excitement building, Keira dives headfirst into her role as the festival's organizer. She knows that bringing together the people of both Mineral Town and Forget-Me-Not Valley is crucial to making the event a success, and she's determined to make sure everyone feels involved and appreciated.

Her first task is to visit Mineral Town and get to know the families who will be participating. Though she's briefly met some of them during her visit with Mayor Thomas, she now needs to understand what each family can contribute to the festival. She sees this not just as a logistical task but also as a way to strengthen the relationship between the two communities.

On her first day, Keira arrives in Mineral Town with Mark by her side. He knows most of the residents there and proudly introduces her to each family. Though grateful for his help, Keira quickly finds her own rhythm, speaking with each family and asking what they'd like to bring to the festival.

Her first stop is Yodel Ranch, where Barley and his granddaughter May are busy tending to the livestock. Barley greets Keira with a warm smile as he wipes sweat from his brow.

"Ah, you're Keira, the princess organizing the festival, right?" Barley chuckles. "Well, we'd be happy to contribute. We could set up a petting zoo for the children. I'm sure May would love to help with that too."

Keira smiles at May, who beams back at her. "That sounds perfect," she says. "The petting zoo will definitely add a charming, family-friendly touch to the festival."

Next, Keira visits the Inn, where Doug and his daughter Ann are busy preparing for the lunch rush. When she mentions the festival, Doug's face lights up.

"I could set up a food stall and cook some of our famous Mineral Town dishes," Doug offers. "We could serve stews, grilled meats, and even some sweets. What do you think, Ann?"

Ann nods enthusiastically. "I'd love to help! It'll be fun to cook for such a big crowd."

Keira makes a note of their ideas and thanks them both. The festival is starting to take shape, and she can already see how the contributions of each family will create something special.

Keira's next step in preparing for the Bon Festival is reaching out to Gotz, the skilled carpenter of Mineral Town. She knows that building the physical infrastructure for the festival is key to its success, and Gotz is the best man for the job. When Keira arrives at Gotz's workshop, she explains her vision for the festival, detailing the need for stalls for the vendors, a grand stage for performances, and seating areas for the festivalgoers.

Gotz listens thoughtfully, nodding as she describes the scope of the work. "Sounds like you're going to need something sturdy and spacious. I can come to Forget-Me-Not Valley and handle the building. It'll take a bit of time, but if we start soon, we can have it ready before the festival."

Keira smiles, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders. "Thank you so much, Gotz. Your work will help make this festival truly special."

Gotz grunts, his way of acknowledging her gratitude. "I'll bring my tools and a couple of lads to help. Don't worry—it'll be done right."

With Gotz on board, Keira can see the festival taking physical shape in her mind. But there's still the matter of transporting materials and supplies to the valley, something she's unsure how to manage on her own. Thankfully, she doesn't have to worry for long. Zack, the ever-reliable shipper, approaches her at the dock later that afternoon. "I heard you're organizing the Bon Festival," Zack says with his characteristic grin. "I transport goods all the time, so how about I help move the materials you'll need to build the stalls and stage? I've got a good wagon that can handle it."

Keira's face lights up at the offer. "That would be amazing, Zack. It's a big relief to know we can get everything there on time."

"Consider it done," Zack says. "I'll coordinate with Gotz to make sure everything is where it needs to be."

With the logistics falling into place, Keira starts to feel more at ease. But it's not just about the stalls and the stage—the festival needs fun, interactive elements to truly come alive. And as if the universe heard her thoughts, Popuri and Rick approach her with their own creative idea.

Popuri bounces over to Keira with enthusiasm, her brother Rick trailing behind her. "Keira, we had this fun idea for the festival! How about we set up a booth where people can try to dunk someone in a pool by throwing eggs at a target? It could be a game of skill. And we thought Rock would be the perfect person to sit over the water!"

Keira laughs at the thought, imagining Rock's cocky demeanor as he sits over the pool, only to get dunked. "That sounds like a lot of fun! I think people will really enjoy it. I'll make sure we have the setup ready."

Rick nods in agreement, adding, "It'll bring some lightheartedness to the festival. I'll help set it up and make sure everything is safe."

Feeling even more excited, Keira jots down the idea in her notebook, making arrangements to have the dunk tank constructed as part of Gotz's project.

Not long after, Karen, Pete, Mary, and Ann come to Keira with their own proposal. Karen, well-known for her love of music and confident, bold personality, approaches Keira with a gleam in her eye.

"Hey Keira! I was thinking," Karen begins, "why not have some live performances at the festival? I could sing, and the rest of us could join me to play instruments, kinda like the music festival in Fall. We could perform traditional festival songs, or even something a little more modern."

Keira beams at the suggestion. "That's perfect! We're going to need some entertainment on the stage, and you all would be amazing. What kind of instruments will you play?"

Ann, always full of energy, chimes in, "Elli and I can play the flutes! Pete is good with the ocarina. Mary's great with the piano. And Karen will impress the crowd with her voice. It'll be a great mix."

Keira claps her hands together. "That's settled, then. We'll make sure the stage is ready for your performance. It'll be a great way to keep the energy up during the festival."

Karen winks at her. "Don't worry, Keira. We'll make sure the festivalgoers have something to remember."

With all the ideas and arrangements coming together so well, Keira feels a surge of confidence. So many more people comes to her with ideas of their own. She can see how all the elements—the stalls, performances, and games—will create an atmosphere that will not only draw people in but also leave a lasting impression. Keira is truly beginning to feel like a leader, just as Muffy encouraged her to be. This festival is going to be something special, something unforgettable for everyone involved.

She can't wait to see it all come to life.

As the days pass and the sun rises higher in the summer sky, Keira stands in the midst of something truly remarkable. The festival slowly takes shape before her eyes, and with each passing day, her confidence grows. Watching the bustling activity around her, Keira feels a swell of pride. This is her vision coming to life, a dream she never thought she'd be responsible for making real in this new time and place.

Gotz and Zack make steady progress, their work on the stalls and the stage moving along quicker than Keira anticipates. The wooden structures fit seamlessly into the open fields of Forget-Me-Not Valley, blending with the natural beauty of the landscape. Keira is relieved that they haven't needed to clear any trees or flowers to make room for the festival grounds—nature remains intact, and the festival will honor the valley's natural charm, just as she hopes.

The residents of the valley are just as committed to the festival's success. The women from Muffy's club work tirelessly on Hanabishi-style decorations. Keira takes great care in explaining the significance of each decorative element, especially the paper lanterns. These lanterns, traditionally used during the Bon Festival, symbolize guiding the spirits of ancestors back to the realm of the living, a connection between the past and the present. The women embrace the task wholeheartedly, their fingers deftly folding and painting the lanterns with intricate designs. Keira can feel the festival's essence taking root in every corner of the valley.

Meanwhile, Lumina takes on the role of organizing the musical entertainment with the volunteers from Mineral Town. Keira trusts her with this task, knowing that Lumina has an ear for music and a natural ability to coordinate such events. She has seen Lumina gracefully orchestrate recitals at Romana's villa before, and this time is no different. Karen, Pete, Elli, Ann, and Mary rehearse with their instruments—the sound of Karen's voice, flutes, ocarina, and piano floats through the air, filling the valley with anticipation.

One evening, as the sun dips low on the horizon, Keira visits Patrick and Kassey in their workshop. The two brothers, known for their eccentric and explosive personalities, diligently work on the fireworks display. The night sky will light up with brilliant colors, marking the festival's culmination in a way that will be remembered for years to come. The brothers are excited to experiment with new designs, eager to outdo their previous work.

"This is going to be our biggest show yet!" Kassey says with a wide grin. "People are going to be talking about these fireworks for the rest of the year!"

Patrick gives Keira a thumbs-up as he carefully packs another set of fireworks into a crate. "We'll make sure it's a show that leaves everyone breathless!"

Keira smiles and thanks them for their hard work. Knowing the brothers' passion for pyrotechnics, she has no doubt their display will be nothing short of spectacular.

Thanks to Romana's generous funding, there are no financial constraints holding them back. The funds allow the festival to reach new heights, from the decorations to the musical performances to the grand fireworks finale. Keira is aware of the potential this festival has to benefit both Forget-Me-Not Valley and Mineral Town economically, but more than that, it is an opportunity to strengthen the bond between the two communities. It is a chance for them to share their cultures, create memories together, and build something that will last.

As Keira stands on the nearly-completed stage one late afternoon, watching the activity around her, she reflects on her upbringing. Raised as a princess, she was taught from a young age how to lead, how to take responsibility for her people. That training has prepared her for this moment, even if the circumstances are vastly different from what she once imagined. Forget-Me-Not Valley isn't her kingdom, but in a way, it has become her home, and she feels a deep sense of duty to help the people who have welcomed her so warmly.

For the first time since arriving in this time, Keira feels a sense of belonging. She isn't just a guest in this world anymore—she is contributing to it, helping to shape its future. And with each task she assigns, each decision she makes, she grows more confident in her ability to lead.

The Bon Festival will be a success, of that she is sure. And it will be more than just a celebration; it will be a symbol of unity, of old and new traditions coming together, and of a valley and a town working as one.

Despite the steady progress in preparations, one task weighs heavily on Keira's mind—something that demands more than just logistics, creativity, or leadership. It's a matter of heart and tradition: the sacred dance of the Hanabishi Queens. This ancient ceremonial dance lies at the heart of the Bon Festival, passed down through generations. Each queen performs it with grace and reverence, symbolizing unity between the monarch and her people, celebrating ancestors, and paying homage to the guiding spirits.

Keira has trained for years under her mother's watchful eye for this very dance, practicing until every movement becomes an extension of her soul. But here, in this unfamiliar time and place, one crucial piece is missing—the music. The delicate, ethereal sounds of traditional Hanabishi instruments, particularly the Shamisen, a three-stringed instrument that weaves through the air like a ribbon of sound. Its haunting melodies always accompany the sacred dance, guiding the queen's steps in perfect harmony.

Yet, in Forget-Me-Not Valley, there are no Shamisens. The absence of these traditional instruments poses a daunting challenge, and anxiety gnaws at Keira each time she thinks about it. How can she recreate something so intrinsic to her culture with the resources available here?

Despite the challenge, Keira isn't one to back down. Raised as a princess and future queen, she has been taught to find solutions where others see obstacles. So, in the quiet hours of the night, after meetings and planning sessions are done, she begins to devise a plan.

The next morning, Keira makes her way to the Blue Bar to meet Griffin and Gustafa. Her heart races as she explains the importance of the sacred Hanabishi dance to the two musicians. It's not just any dance; it symbolizes the unity between the queen and her people, performed only once a year during the Bon Festival. But without the traditional instruments of her homeland, it won't be the same. The music is crucial—it guides every movement, from the elegant sweep of her arms to the precise rhythm of her steps. The absence of these instruments is an obstacle she needs to overcome, and quickly.

As Keira describes the situation, she sees hesitation in their eyes. Guitars aren't traditional Hanabishi instruments, and though both Gustafa and Griffin are skilled musicians, they're unsure how to replicate the unique sounds Keira describes. Gustafa strums his guitar thoughtfully while Griffin looks at his own instrument, unsure how to mimic the high, sharp tones of the Shamisen.

But Keira remains undeterred. She has an idea, and she's determined to see it through.

"May I?" Keira asks gently, gesturing toward one of the guitars. Griffin, curious but trusting, hands his guitar to her. Taking a deep breath, Keira adjusts the strings with delicate precision. Plucking the strings while tightening the strings, she listens to the sound of the string gets higher as it gets closer to the sounds of the shamisen. She closes her eyes, letting her mind drift back to her childhood, back to the grand halls of her palace where she practiced for hours under her instructors' watchful gaze. The sharp tones of the shamisen were always there, guiding her movements.

As she tunes the guitar, Keira recalls the sound of the shamisen filling the air, the memory of her mother watching proudly as she practiced. Her mother's soft but firm voice echoes in her mind: "You are destined for greatness, Keira. This dance is not just for tradition; it is for the people, for your ancestors. You must honor them with every step."

A bittersweet smile crosses Keira's face as she finishes adjusting the strings. She hands the guitar back to Griffin, who strums it tentatively, only to stop in surprise as the first notes ring out. The sound is different now—higher, sharper, and more reminiscent of the traditional Hanabishi music Keira grew up with.

Griffin raises an eyebrow, impressed. "This… this sounds beautiful!"

Keira smiles. "It's not perfect, but it captures the essence of the dance. The shamisen was central to Hanabishi music, and while we can't recreate it exactly, this tuning will bring us as close as possible."

Gustafa, who had been quietly observing, picked up his own guitar and mimicked the tuning. After a few moments, he too began to strum a few chords. His eyes lit up with excitement as he realized the potential. "I can feel it. The spirit of the music… it's there, in these notes. We can make this work."

Keira nods, "I know its a lot to ask of you two, but if we can get this final performance right, we can make this a successful festival. But I need you two to practice for an hour daily. Can I trust you two for this?"

Griffin and Gustafa exchange looks, both nodding in agreement. "We'll practice," Gustafa says. "We'll make sure we get it right for your performance."

Keira's relief is palpable, but the task ahead still looms large in her mind. "Thank you both," she says earnestly. "This dance… it means so much to me and my people. With your help, we can bring a piece of my past to this festival, and I think it will give everyone a unique experience."

Griffin smiles warmly. "We'll make sure it's something to remember."

Keira bows her head, gratitude flooding her chest. As she leaves the musicians to continue their work, she feels a sense of peace settling over her. There's still much to do, but the most important piece—the heart of the festival—is now within reach.

Keira walks along the familiar paths of Forget-Me-Not Valley, the gentle Summer breeze ruffling her hair as she reflects on the progress of the festival. Preparations are going smoothly, and she is proud of the work everyone has put in. But as the days pass, she can't shake the feeling that something is missing.

Thanks to Gustafa and Griffin, the stringed instruments are well on their way to mimicking the Shamisen, and the melodies are taking shape. Yet, the music lacks the deep, rhythmic heartbeat that has always grounded the sacred dance—the steady percussion that gives the movements purpose and structure. In her homeland, the binzasara, a traditional percussion instrument, had always been the backbone of every performance. Its sharp, clattering sound underscored the grace of the dance, providing a steady rhythm to accompany the ethereal melodies of the Shamisen. But here, in this new time, the binzasara is long forgotten.

Keira frowns as she continues her walk, trying to find a solution. She needs an alternative—a modern instrument that can replicate the rhythmic depth of the binzasara. Then it strikes her: the bongos. Though the sound is different, the essence of the instrument is similar. The bongos could offer the much-needed percussive element, and with the right player, the music could come alive.

But who could play the bongos? All of the valley's residents are already assigned to tasks, and she needs someone reliable, someone who can learn quickly and stay dedicated to the festival's success.

As her thoughts swirl, Keira's eyes catch sight of a familiar figure sitting near the bridge, kneeling on a carpet, his worn hands outstretched for change whenever anyone passes by. It's Murray, the valley's drifter and beggar. His scruffy beard nearly covers his entire head, and his tattered clothes mark him as someone who has long struggled with misfortune. Keira has seen him around the valley countless times, asking for coins and food, always present but never fully part of the community. She has given him money before, but no matter how often she helps, Murray's situation never seems to improve.

An idea sparks in her mind.

As a princess, Keira was taught that true leadership means not only ruling but also uplifting those less fortunate. Rather than simply giving Murray money, what if she gave him something more lasting—a skill, a way to earn his keep and contribute to the festival?

With that in mind, Keira approaches him with a kind smile. "Hello, Murray," she greets softly.

Murray looks up, his eyes tired but hopeful. "Moi! Hello princess. Spare some change?" he mumbles, his voice raspy.

Keira kneels down beside him, her eyes gentle but determined. "I have something better to offer you," she says. "I'm organizing a festival, and we need someone to play a special instrument—the bongos. I'd like to teach you how to play them, and if you help with the festival, I'll pay you for your work."

Murray blinks at her, clearly confused. He scratches his scruffy chin, unsure if he's heard her correctly. "Moi! Bongos?" he repeats. "You want me to play… music?"

Keira nods. "Yes. I can't do it without you, Murray. If you learn to play, you could help make the festival something truly special."

For a moment, Murray hesitates. No one has ever approached him with an offer like this before. Most people simply drop a few coins into his hand and move on, never asking him for anything more than to stay out of their way. But Keira isn't like the others. She's offering him a chance—a chance to be more than just the village beggar, to be part of something bigger.

"Moi! I… I don't know," he mutters, uncertainty clouding his voice. "I ain't never played an instrument before."

Keira smiles, her voice warm and encouraging. "I'll teach you. I promise, you'll pick it up quickly. And when you do, you'll have a way to make money for yourself—not just from begging, but from performing. Think of it, Murray. People will remember your name. They'll come to hear you play."

"Moi! How much you payin'?" he asks, a faint glimmer of interest in his tone.

Keira chuckles softly. "More than you'd make begging, I promise. And if the festival is a success, maybe people will hire you to play for other events. This could be the start of something new for you."

Murray mulls it over, glancing down at his outstretched hand, which has always been empty more often than full. He sighs deeply and nods. "Moi! Alright. I'll give it a shot."

Keira's smile widens. "Great! We'll start tomorrow. Meet me by the Blue Bar, and I'll bring the bongos."

With the music settled and the festival preparations well underway, Keira feels the weight of one final task pressing on her mind—the creation of the sacred hansu fan, an essential part of the Hanabishi Queen's dance. Without it, the performance would be incomplete, lacking the grace and symbolic power that makes the dance so revered in her time. The fan isn't just a prop; it's an extension of the dancer herself, embodying the strength and elegance of the Hanabishi clan.

Keira knows she won't find such a fan in this modern age, but she's confident she has the skills to recreate it. However, she needs help with the frame. The hansu fan is unlike the commoners' fans or those for casual entertainment. Its wide, curved shape is meant to billow like wings when held and flicked, creating an illusion of flight during the dance.

Keira decides to seek out Cody, the valley's talented metal sculptor, whose work with metal and wood has impressed her in the past. His craftsmanship is unmatched, and if anyone can help her bring this piece of her heritage to life, it's him.

One afternoon, she makes her way to his workshop, the smell of metal filling the air as she steps inside. Cody is bent over his latest project, his hands coated in soot, but he looks up when she approaches.

"Keira," Cody greets her with a warm nod. "What can I do for you?"

Keira explains her need for the special hansu fan, describing the intricate details of its shape. "The frame must be sturdy, but light enough to carry through the movements of the dance," she says, her voice steady. "It needs to curve like this…" She sketches out the shape on a piece of parchment she brought with her. "And it must hold silk threads that I'll embroider with the emblem of my clan—a dragon. It has to be flexible, yet strong."

Cody listens carefully, his expression thoughtful as he studies her drawing. "Sounds like a challenge, but I like challenges." He grins, already formulating ideas in his mind. "I can make you the frame. Give me a few days, and I'll have something ready for you."

Keira smiles in gratitude. "Thank you, Cody. I know it will be perfect."

True to his word, Cody completes the frame a few days later. When Keira holds it in her hands for the first time, she marvels at the craftsmanship. The wood is carved with precision, the handle fits perfectly in her hand. The metal frame's circular curve follows the exact shape she described. It feels light but sturdy, and as she moves it gently, it responds like an extension of her hand, just as it should.

The next step is hers. She returns home and sets to work embroidering the silk that will cover the frame. Keira's fingers move deftly as she works with threads of vibrant colors—gold, red, and black—intertwining them to form the majestic dragon, the symbol of the Hanabishi clan. The dragon, soaring with grace and power, represents not only her family's honor but also the strength within her. Her mother taught her to weave stories into her embroidery, and as she stitches, Keira thinks of her ancestors, her mother, and the traditions she is about to revive in this new world.

When she finishes the fan, she takes a step back to admire it. The embroidered dragon seems to come alive, its eyes fierce and determined, its body twisting and curling across the fabric in a fluid motion. It's a thing of beauty—a relic of a time long gone, but now reborn in her hands.

Satisfied with her work, Keira decides to test the fan. She moves to an open space in her home, holding the fan delicately as she begins the opening steps of the sacred Hanabishi dance. The fan moves effortlessly through the air, catching the light as it twirls with her movements. Each flick of her wrist, each step she takes, the fan responds perfectly, creating the illusion of the dragon soaring through the heavens.

It's right. It's exactly as she remembers from her training, and Keira feels a surge of pride as she completes the dance, the fan spinning gently into her hand at the final step.

But there's still one more part of the dance to consider—her robe.

In the corner of her room, neatly hanging on a bamboo pole, is the robe she wore when she first met Mark. Keira's mother gave it to her when she came of age, a heavy, richly embroidered garment designed not only to protect the queen but to symbolize her burden and responsibility to her people. It's heavy—both in weight and meaning—but Keira has been trained to wear it since she was a child. Its weight has never been a hindrance; it's part of her role in the royal family, part of the tradition. Now, it's as much a part of the dance as the fan in her hand.

She runs her fingers over the fabric, tracing the intricate patterns woven into the deep gold-colored silk. Though it's been a year since she last wore it, Keira knows she has kept this robe for moments like this—for the dance.

It's more than just an outfit—it's her heritage. And now, in this valley that has welcomed her so kindly, she will wear it again, to honor her husband and to share a piece of her forgotten world with this new one.

As Keira stares at the robe, her thoughts drift to Mark. He has been supportive throughout this entire process, but he has yet to see the full extent of her royal heritage. This dance, this festival, will be a way to show him—and the valley—who she truly is, not just as a wife or a resident of Forget-Me-Not Valley, but as a princess, a woman born and raised with the weight of an ancient tradition on her shoulders.

She smiles to herself, a newfound confidence swelling within her. The festival will be a success, not just because of the work everyone has put in, but because she will pour her heart and soul into every step of that dance, every flick of the hansu fan.

This is more than just a festival. It's a revival of her legacy. And she can't wait to share it with those who have become her new family.