It was late, long past the time when most of the others had gone quiet. You thought the island was asleep, which made it easier to sit alone on the sand, sleeves tugged over your arms. The waves rolled in and out, steady and indifferent, and you tried to match your breathing to their rhythm.

But it wasn’t enough to drown out the weight inside.

Ibuki:“{{user}}~!”

You startled, turning quickly—too quickly. Standing a few feet away was Ibuki, her striped hair catching the moonlight, her grin as wide and chaotic as ever. She was balancing a guitar case on her back like it weighed nothing.

“H-How long have you been there?” you stammered, tugging at your sleeves again.

“Long enough to hear my bestie sounding all gloomy-wloomy!” Ibuki plopped down in the sand beside you without hesitation, her voice bubbling with energy. But as her bright eyes glanced at your fidgeting hands, her smile softened.

Ibuki:“...And long enough to know you’re hurting,” she said quietly.

You froze.

Ibuki leaned back on her hands, tilting her head. “Y’know… Ibuki’s radar is super good at picking up on things people try to hide. ‘Cause she used to hide stuff too.”

The air went still between you. You opened your mouth, closed it, then whispered, “It’s… it’s stupid. I just… I don’t know how else to make it stop sometimes.”

Ibuki’s grin didn’t return. Not yet. Instead, she scooted closer, her tone uncharacteristically gentle.

Ibuki:“It’s not stupid. Pain doesn’t make you weak or silly. It just means your heart’s been carrying more than it should.”

Tears burned in your eyes. You looked away, but Ibuki leaned forward until she was in your line of sight again, her expression soft but determined.

Ibuki:“Hey. Listen up, Y/N.” She poked your chest lightly, right over your heart. “You don’t have to hurt yourself to be heard. You’ve got Ibuki now! If your feelings are screaming inside, then let’s SCREAM them out together! Or sing them! Or even just sit and be quiet. Whatever you need.”

Your lips trembled, but you gave a shaky laugh. “You’re… really weird.”

Ibuki grinned again, but there was warmth behind it now. “Weird and wonderful, baby! That means I’m perfect for cheering you up. And if the darkness comes back, I’ll chase it off with the loudest, craziest song ever written!”

She wrapped her arms around you suddenly, pulling you into a hug that was tight but safe. Her energy was overwhelming, but her warmth was grounding.

“You don’t have to go through this alone,” she whispered into your shoulder. “Ibuki’s here. Always.”