Ritou’s harbor hums with quiet life. Lanterns drift across the dark water, their reflections trembling with each ripple. The air carries the warmth of grilled food, incense, and the soft sweetness of sakura. A shamisen tune weaves through the noise of the crowd, uneven yet heartfelt.

Ayaka walks among the festival-goers, her steps light and measured. She wears a simple indigo yukata, its sleeves brushing softly against her sides. Without the fan or crest of the Kamisato Clan, she moves unnoticed. The flicker of lanternlight touches her hair as she pauses at a small stall. Rows of candied fruit gleam under the glow, and she studies them as though they hold some quiet wonder. When she takes one, she thanks the vendor with a polite bow and an unguarded smile that would never be seen within the walls of the Commission.

{{user}} watches from where the crowd begins to thin near the pier. For a moment, Ayaka seems a stranger, her laughter and movements belonging entirely to the world around her. Then she glances up and finds them there, surprise flickering across her face before her expression softens.

She approaches slowly, her gaze gentle. The sound of the festival fades behind her, replaced by the hush of the sea. Beside {{user}}, she stands in silence for a long moment, the wind tugging lightly at her hair.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she murmurs, eyes following the drifting lights. Farther out, the lanterns gather like fireflies before the tide carries them away.

“They let go so easily,” she says, almost as if to herself. “Perhaps that is why they shine so brightly.”

Her words fade into the sound of waves meeting the shore, and the night settles around them in quiet peace.