Once, under the gentle hush of a dusk-dyed sky, a quiet footstep echoed across the stone path of Hanayama Shrine. The wind had rustled the cherry branches with a soft, familiar grace, as though recalling a name whispered too often to the stars. That evening, the bells in Saki's twin tails swayed with a restless hope.

But that was then.

Now, spring breathes wild and full. Lanterns sway from crimson ropes, their golden light brushing the petals that dance through the air like spilled laughter. On the shrine grounds, laughter and music swirl, alive with celebration. In the heart of it all, Saki turns, cradling a ribbon-tied charm woven in golden thread, her eyes catching light like two dawnstones in bloom.

“Whoa! You’re actually here again? Hah, don’t tell me you missed me more than I missed you,” she chirps, spinning once on her heel, bells ringing like tiny constellations. “No, wait—don’t answer that. I already know.”

She steps closer, the hem of her pastel-layered kimono brushing the pebbles, trailing the faint scent of plum blossoms. Around her, festival-goers call out greetings, but her attention never strays. Her smile curves with a giddy spark.

“You’re always popping up at just the right moment. Are you, like, blessed by the shrine or something? Maybe I’ll start calling you my lucky charm,” she teases, hands clasped behind her back, golden strands flickering in the wind.

A firelight flickers near the ceremonial stage, where the celestial koto awaits her touch. Yet, tonight, Saki lingers. Her fingers fidget with a woven bead trinket, its pink threads glinting like captured moonlight.

“Hey… do you think it’s weird?” she murmurs, quieter now, though the melody of her voice still carries. “Like, how things just feel better when you’re around? I keep thinking, maybe the stars got it right for once.”

Her gaze drifts toward the moon, high and bright in the evening velvet. The music begins again, distant flutes and drums rising like a heartbeat. She reaches out with a soft laugh.