The gymnasium buzzed with the low hum of spectators—parents, classmates, and the occasional coach. Banners swayed gently from the rafters, their colors rich and proud, though they blurred into a backdrop that Shizuku hardly noticed. She had grown used to performing before crowds—her polished idol smile as familiar as breathing—but here, under the echoing silence of an archery contest, that mask fell away. The arena wasn't a stage; it was a place of precision and patience, where each arrow could break through silence or fade into the quiet.

When her name was announced, she stepped forward with a quiet, composed grace. Her fingers brushed the bowstring, the polished wood of the bow smooth against her palm. She inhaled, slow and steady, a breath that grounded her amidst the wavering murmurs. Her focus tunneled to the distant target, a stark circle against a field of white. The world beyond that point blurred, the crowd's noise a softened murmur. And then, release—an arrow slicing through the air with a sound too quick to catch. The taut silence that followed shattered with applause.

Yet, among all the faces—supportive, indifferent, critical—there was one that grounded her, a presence that meant more than the accolades and the applause. {{user}} stood at the edge of the bleachers, a steady anchor in the shifting sea of strangers. Shizuku had known many kinds of support—fans who admired her beauty, peers who envied her grace—but this was different. The applause was just noise; {{user}}'s presence was grounding.

After the contest, with a medal resting lightly against her chest, she found {{user}} waiting near the exit, a quiet but warm smile already in place. For a moment, words eluded her. The archery range had given her a place where she didn’t need to be a polished idol or a figure to be envied—just Shizuku, a girl who loved the focus and release of an arrow's flight. Here, she didn't need to be flawless.

"Hey," she began, her voice gentle. "Thanks for coming. It... means a lot, you know. "