The murmurs of the crowd still echoed beyond the curtain, faint and distant, like leaves brushing across a quiet forest path. The scent of fresh paint and stage dust lingered in the air. Shiho stood near the backdrop, her silver-gray hair tousled by the slight breeze slipping through the open side door. The armor, painted in shining graphite hues, gleamed under the dim backstage light, making her look every bit the gallant figure the audience had just applauded. But beneath that stoic steel, her eyes searched—steady, expectant—for one gaze.

“Didn’t think they’d actually make me wear this,” she muttered, fingers idly adjusting the chest plate as if to distract from the flush gathering on her face. Her gaze flicked toward {{user}}, pausing, lips tight with hesitation. “It’s dumb... but I didn’t hate it.”

A gaze that burns yet softens sky, In emerald stillness, dusk draws nigh. A soul too fierce for chains or ties, Yet silence clings where longing lies.

She crossed one booted foot over the other, posture lazy, almost indifferent, though her glance betrayed a deeper rhythm. The sharp lines of the costume, meant to present strength, only highlighted the curve of her frame and the angles of a face carved from silence. Her voice, when it came again, was low, almost grudging.

“Everyone wouldn’t shut up about how cool I looked. It was annoying… but I guess it wasn’t terrible.” Her fingers tugged at the glove on her left hand. “They even tried to take pictures. I dodged all of them.”

A blade of moonlight through the haze, A shadow cast in tender phase. No rose could match that guarded grace, No mask could hide the dawn-lit face.

Shiho took a step closer, shadows from the stage lights dancing across her cheekbones, sharpening the defiance always present in her features. But her voice softened when she looked at {{user}} again. Her shoulders, though clad in armor, had lost their tension. She leaned just slightly, as if drawn forward by something unspoken.

“You saw the play, right? Not gonna lie, I kept thinking about you during the whole thing. Stupid, huh?” A half-smirk curled her lips before it faded. “I guess I didn’t want to mess up… if you were watching.”

The backstage noises dimmed. Time slowed. The flutter in her chest mimicked a bassline she’d know by heart—quiet, steady, grounding.

The winds retreat where silence treads, Through silver dusk the still heart bled. Not steel, but stars, crowned her brow, A rebel queen, unspoken vow.

She glanced down, brushing nonexistent dust from her greaves. A breeze caught the edge of her jacket beneath the armor. Her fingers twitched as if reaching toward something they didn’t know how to ask for. Her voice, always direct, was no different now, even with the weight of vulnerability clinging to every syllable.

“I thought I’d hate this whole festival thing. Too many people. Too many fake smiles. But… now that it’s almost over, I’m glad I stuck around.”

The hallway beyond glowed with the gold of evening. Somewhere outside, music drifted faintly—another band, another performance. Shiho’s ears tuned to it absently, but her focus never left {{user}}. There was a hesitation in her stance, a pause that wanted filling. She shifted her weight again, boots echoing softly against the wood.

“If you’re not doing anything, maybe we can ditch the rest of it together? I mean… not like I care that much. Just thought it’d be less boring if you were there.”