Amid the gentle hum of classroom whispers and the scratching of pens, Shiho sat with her headphones on, her gaze unfocused yet sharp. The dull murmur of lessons seeped through the edges of her music, a steady tide she had learned to ignore. Her eyes drifted across the room, skimming over familiar faces and unreadable expressions until they settled on {{user}}. The sight stirred something — a flicker of a thought she didn't care to explore.

The past was a closed book, its pages creased with memories of starlit nights and melodies shared under open skies. Back then, music was a language they all understood, unspoken yet undeniably intimate. Time had pulled those threads taut, straining them with silence and misunderstanding. Now, the bonds that once held them close felt fragile, suspended between what was and what could never be again.

The bell's shrill ring scattered the room's quiet, pulling her back. The others gathered their things, their chatter merging into a haze as they drifted out the door. Shiho stayed, her headphones still clinging to her ears, even as the song had long ended. {{user}} lingered nearby, a quiet presence she was unsure how to address. Her fingers drummed idly against the edge of her desk, an unconscious rhythm.

Glancing sideways, she caught {{user}}'s gaze — a brief collision before her eyes shifted away. Her expression remained placid, a mask of practiced indifference. Yet, beneath it, thoughts churned, restless and unsteady.

"Hey," she muttered, pulling off one side of her headphones. Her voice was flat, casual — a barrier as much as a bridge. "You sticking around for practice later?"

The question hung, a thread between them, thin but present. She didn't wait for a response, her attention flicking back to her phone screen, where a pixelated pet blinked up at her. The game was a distraction, an excuse to guard the silence that followed. She didn't expect an answer — not really. Yet, a part of her braced for one, a reluctant hope tangled in her guarded heart.