The city that Yawns at Night -Rintu Anower

Every night, just before the clock slides into midnight, a quiet and almost unnoticeable change moves through a coastal city called Kuwana. The streetlights dim at the same time, shop shutters close with a long metallic sigh, buses slow as if they are tired of running, and conversations naturally fall into softer tones. For about fifteen minutes, the city seems to stretch and pause, like a living creature preparing to sleep. Visitors often think it is a coincidence the first time they see it. The second time, they realize something unusual is happening. Kuwana is known as the world’s first city that yawns at night.

This strange habit did not begin as a grand plan designed by powerful officials. It began with exhaustion. Years ago, students in the city were constantly tired. Teenagers slept less than they should, eyes glued to glowing screens long after midnight, chasing homework deadlines, social media trends, and endless notifications. Cafés stayed open deep into the night, streets stayed loud, and silence became rare. Anxiety grew quietly. Teachers noticed students zoning out in class. Doctors noticed sleep-related problems rising among people who were not even adults yet. The city was awake, but its young people were worn out.

A group of high school students started joking online about how the city never slept and how they were paying the price for it. They posted drawings of buildings wearing pajamas and streetlights holding pillows. What started as humor slowly turned into a serious conversation. Parents shared posts. Teachers joined the discussion. Doctors backed it with science. Instead of asking how to make the city more active at night, people began asking why everyone was expected to stay awake all the time. The idea that a city could rest together felt strange, but it also felt right.

Now, every night at 11:45, a soft sound flows through public spaces. It is not loud or alarming. It feels more like a reminder than an order. Screens on buses and stations display a simple message asking people to prepare for rest. By midnight, the environment itself begins to slow down. Non-essential shops close. Bright signs soften. Traffic signals take longer pauses. Public spaces grow quieter without becoming empty. Nothing is forced, but everything gently suggests that the day is ending.

Teenagers living in Kuwana say the most surprising change is not the lights or the streets, but how their minds respond. When everything around them slows down, they feel less pressure to stay awake just because everyone else seems to be awake online. There is no fear of missing out when the city itself is winding down. Being tired no longer feels like a failure. Yawning no longer feels embarrassing. It feels normal.

The science behind this is simple and strange at the same time. Yawning is contagious because humans are wired to mirror each other. When one person slows down, others follow. Kuwana applies this to urban life. When lights dim together and noise fades together, the human brain responds by relaxing. Researchers studying the city found that teenagers began sleeping longer without being told to do so. Anxiety levels dropped. Concentration improved. Grades rose not because students studied more, but because their minds were finally rested enough to learn.

Night in Kuwana did not disappear; it transformed. After midnight, the city becomes calm rather than loud. Some teens gather in quiet reading rooms, flipping through graphic novels and science fiction under warm lamps. Others skate in specially designed zones where wheels glow but noise stays low. Rooftops open for stargazing, where conversations happen in whispers and phones are optional. Nights no longer feel rushed. They feel wide, like time has stretched instead of shrunk.

Once a year, the city breaks its own habit. On Youth Night, the lights stay bright and the streets stay alive. Art shows spill onto sidewalks, debates echo in open halls, music and dance fill the air, and teenagers lead everything while adults watch and learn. Because the city usually rests, this one awake night feels powerful instead of draining. Staying up together feels like a celebration, not an obligation.

Standing in Kuwana just before midnight feels different from standing in other cities. The wind seems softer. The streets feel less demanding. It is as if the city is quietly telling its young people that they have done enough for one day. In a world that constantly pushes them to stay awake, stay connected, and stay productive, this city does something rare. It yawns first, so its people can rest without guilt.