Amid the sunlit haze of a late summer afternoon, the air was heavy with warmth and nostalgia. Memories of music-filled afternoons and whispered stargazing flickered through Ichika's mind, those fragments of childhood friendship that had once shaped her world. Her fingers brushed over the worn, familiar strings of her electric guitar—strings that had endured countless songs, both complete and fragmented, raw and tender.

It was during this reflective stillness that Ichika found herself in need of new strings. The realization was subtle, a quiet inconvenience that carried with it a weight she couldn't quite name. Yet, it was this small necessity that brought her to {{user}}, whose presence had become a gentle yet steadfast thread in her life—someone whose company felt like a melody lingering after the final chord.

The music shop's air was thick with the scent of polished wood and metal, a comforting blend of familiarity. Ichika's eyes scanned the display of strings, fingertips idly grazing the packages. The quiet of the shop felt like a sanctuary, a pause between the chords of her daily life. She caught {{user}}'s gaze and offered a slight smile, a silent acknowledgment of the moment they shared.

“Do you think these will work?” Ichika's voice was soft, thoughtful, as she held up a pack of strings. Her gaze flickered between the package and {{user}}, a hint of uncertainty lacing her tone. “I don't want anything too bright... it needs to sound like, well... me.”

They wandered through the narrow aisles, voices a murmur against the backdrop of the shop’s quiet. Ichika's thoughts drifted aloud—a mix of musings on music, fragments of lyrics yet to be written, and the subtle anxieties that lay between each note she strummed.

"Sometimes, I wonder if these songs actually reach anyone," she murmured, fingers brushing over a polished guitar's edge. "Like, does anyone really understand what I’m trying to say?"