The morning sun filtered through the classroom windows, casting a glow on the chaos that was Haruto and his group. They huddled together, poring over maps and random location suggestions scribbled on sticky notes. Haruto sat at the edge of the table, scribbling into his notebook, feeling a headache coming on.

"How about we film in a castle?" Yuki suggested with dramatic flair, eyes wide with excitement.

Daichi, ever the realist, shot her a deadpan look. "Yeah, because those are just lying around in downtown Tokyo."

"Okay, okay, fine. What about the train station? We could do an epic chase scene!"

Taro, eyes gleaming beneath his oversized sunglasses, leaned in. "Forget that. I heard there’s an old underground bunker no one’s using anymore. We could totally shoot a dystopian film there!"

Haruto sighed, rubbing his temples. “I don’t think we have the budget or... the legal permission for that.”

Haruto’s mind drifted back to one of the most chaotic family vacations of his life. His family had gone on a road trip, and somewhere along the way, his father had gotten hold of a video camera. What started as innocent home movies had devolved into an accidental parody of an action film—complete with poorly timed jumps, his mother dramatically pretending to fall off cliffs, and his father’s over-the-top narrations.

A younger Haruto had cringed at the footage but found himself grudgingly nostalgic. Maybe his knack for chaos-filled creativity wasn’t so new after all.

Reality snapped back when they visited their first potential filming location—a rundown, abandoned building at the edge of town. Haruto wasn’t sure how Taro had found the place, but it certainly had a “post-apocalyptic” vibe.

As they crept through the crumbling halls, Yuki kept gasping dramatically at the peeling wallpaper and cracked windows. “This place has atmosphere,” she whispered, as though they were in a haunted mansion.

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The atmosphere, however, was ruined when Daichi tripped over a rusty can, sending it clattering down a staircase.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Haruto muttered, as Taro excitedly took pictures with his phone, mumbling something about “perfect ambiance.”

Just as the group was getting into the idea of filming in the building, Misaki and her entourage strolled in, looking far too clean and polished for the dusty location.

“Oh? You guys thought you’d film here? That’s cute,” Misaki smirked. “But this location’s already been claimed—by me.”

Yuki’s jaw dropped. “Claimed? You can’t just claim an entire building!”

“Oh, but I did,” Misaki said smugly, pulling out some kind of official-looking document. Whether it was real or not, no one could tell.

Haruto glared at the ground, fists clenched. This was just another layer to Misaki’s constant sabotage.

Frustrated, the group wandered into a nearby park to regroup. As they sat sulking on a bench, Yuki’s dramatic sighs filling the air, they heard loud music and cheering. Across the way, a makeshift stage had been set up, where an impromptu talent show was underway.

A juggler in a shiny suit was struggling to keep flaming batons in the air, while a group of break-dancers twisted themselves into knots nearby.

“This is… surreal,” Haruto said, watching a mime walk into the scene.

“Maybe we could use this,” Yuki suggested, eyes gleaming again. “Imagine the drama, the flair!”

Haruto shook his head. “We’re not turning this into a circus.”

The day continued with a series of failed attempts to find the perfect location. Each spot they scouted turned into a mini disaster. A beautiful park? Taken over by a yoga class. The school rooftop? Locked, and Haruto refused to let Taro try to break in.

They attempted to film by the river, only to be chased away by an overly enthusiastic street performer who insisted they were stealing her audience.

Everywhere they went, something went wrong. Props fell apart, backgrounds were too noisy, and Haruto was beginning to feel like the universe was against them.

“Alright, this is the place,” Taro declared as they stood in front of a decrepit old house on the outskirts of town. The house looked like it had been abandoned for years, and a rumor floated around that it was haunted.

Haruto was not impressed. “Taro, we’re not filming a ghost movie.”

“You don’t understand!” Taro insisted, eyes gleaming. “This place has energy—spiritual energy. Imagine the cinematic possibilities!”

Yuki gasped dramatically, as if she could feel the ghosts themselves.

Despite Haruto’s protests, they wandered inside. The floors creaked, and the wind howled through broken windows. As they explored the eerie space, Taro kept whispering about paranormal activities, while Daichi just shook his head.

Eventually, a loud crash sent everyone running out of the house in a panic, their imaginations getting the best of them. Haruto vowed never to let Taro pick a location again.

By sunset, the group was exhausted, but just as they were about to give up, they stumbled upon an old playground at the edge of a neighborhood park. The rusty swings creaked in the wind, and the slide had seen better days, but it had a strange charm to it.

“This,” Yuki said softly, “this is perfect.”

Haruto looked around. It was ridiculous, sure, but it somehow felt right. The simplicity of it, the nostalgic air. He could already see the scenes playing out in his mind.

“Alright,” he said with a small smile, “this is our location.”

As the sun set behind them, they knew this unlikely spot would be the heart of their chaotic little film. It wasn’t perfect, but neither were they—and that made it all the more fitting.