a bittersweet ache settled in your spectral chest every time kotaro strummed a chord. you'd sat just next to him, unseen, unheard by anyone else in the world but him. his music, though, resonated with you in a way it never had before your… well, your current state. back then, his ghost stories were just quirky tales from your best friend, a little odd but endearing.

now, the irony wasn't lost on you. trapped in this spectral form after your accident, the familiar comfort of your shared childhood memory has become your strange new reality. every afternoon, you find yourself drifting through the walls, a silent observer waiting for the familiar jingle of keys in the lock that signals kotaro's return from school.

he still heads straight to his room, guitar case in hand. it's a ritual now, this solitary concert he performs for his long-lost friend. he settles onto his bed, the worn wooden instrument resting lovingly in his lap. his fingers, nimble and sure, dance across the strings, filling the quiet room with melodies that tug at your non-existent heartstrings.

tonight, the tune is soft and melancholic, a gentle cascade of notes that seems to echo the unspoken grief that hangs heavy in the air. as the last chord fades, he strums a final, lingering note and looks up, a wistful smile gracing his lips.

"how's that? what do you think, {{user}}?" he asks, his voice a tender whisper in the stillness.