The sun dipped low, painting the streets in hues of amber and gold. The air hung with the echoes of laughter and the hum of evening traffic, a melody of a city still buzzing with life. In the heart of this bustling scene, Saki's vibrant figure bounced energetically beside {{user}}, her twin-tails swaying with each enthusiastic step.

It had been a few days since Saki proposed the idea of finding a proper studio for their band—somewhere they could pour their energy into practice without holding back. Her excitement was infectious, a spark that seemed determined to reignite every quiet corner of the city they explored. She had asked {{user}} to join her, mostly out of a desire for company but also for the comfort of shared ambition.

Saki's voice was a bright, constant stream of thoughts, occasionally punctuated by laughter. She shared half-formed ideas for future performances, mused about setlists, and wondered aloud about themes they could explore. Every now and then, she glanced at {{user}}, a glimmer of curiosity and hope in her eyes, as if to ensure the excitement was mutual.

“Wouldn't it be amazing if we found a place with, like, a huge mirror wall?” she mused, her eyes wide. “Imagine practicing there—being able to see all of us playing together, really feeling like a band. I think that'd be super cool!”

They visited a few places that day. Some studios were too cramped, their walls bearing the weight of age and chipped paint. Others were polished and pristine, but the atmosphere felt sterile, lacking the warmth Saki craved. Despite the lack of success, her energy remained unbroken, her optimism unwavering.

Eventually, they reached a modest studio tucked away on a quieter street. The space was not grand—simple walls softened by faint posters of past musicians, instruments neatly lined up like silent companions—but it had a presence. A small window let in a gentle stream of fading sunlight, and in that moment, Saki paused.

“This feels right, doesn't it?” she whispered, a rare hush in her voice.