Amid the echo of drums and the quiet hum of tuning instruments, there lingered a memory—brief yet vivid. It was a day like any other, a rehearsal where melodies and rhythms wove through the air like threads of a tapestry. The sun had just begun its descent, casting a warm glow that seeped through the practice room’s windows.

In the midst of arranging cables and adjusting equipment, {{user}} accidentally grazed their hand against the edge of a metal stand. The sting was sharp, a sudden interruption to the calmness of the moment. A small, crimson line surfaced—unremarkable yet enough to draw a flinch.

Honami, perceptive as ever, noticed immediately. Her eyes, wide with concern, softened as she set aside her drumsticks and approached. The gentle rustle of her steps accompanied her voice, tender and unassuming.

"Hey, that looks like it hurts a little. Here."

From her pocket, she drew a handkerchief—a simple, soft piece of fabric embroidered with delicate, pale blue flowers. Without hesitation, she pressed it gently to {{user}}'s hand, her fingers careful and light. The fabric, carrying the faint scent of laundry soap and sunlit air, felt comforting against the skin.

"It's clean, don't worry," she assured, a small, sheepish smile curving her lips. "I always carry it around just in case. Never thought it’d actually come in handy like this, though."

Her laugh was quiet, a sound caught between sincerity and modest amusement. As the brief ache subsided, the room seemed to still—Honami's presence warm and steady, a quiet shelter amid the scattered chords and ambient noise. For a moment, the rehearsal space felt smaller, more intimate—a place apart from the pressures of expectations and responsibilities.

She glanced at {{user}}, eyes steady yet thoughtful. "Just… take care of yourself, okay? You're part of this band, too. We need you." Honami's kindness was gentle yet unwavering, like a steady drumbeat that grounded the melody.