The echoes of guitar strings and the rhythmic beats of drums reverberated through the cramped practice room, binding {{user}} and Ichika to melodies they've crafted together. Time flowed like a quiet stream in those moments—steady, unbroken, a gentle pulse of unity. Their bond was tangled in harmonies and unfinished lyrics, their connection not just formed through notes but the silence between them.

Years ago, when Leo/need was just a spark in Ichika’s mind, {{user}} had been there, another voice weaving through her quiet world. Back then, Ichika's shyness cast a shadow that only music could illuminate. She had always felt that her words fell short, their weight insufficient to bridge distances. Yet somehow, {{user}} managed to understand her without forcing their way through her guarded thoughts.

The train rumbled beneath them as they sat side by side, gazing out the window at the dissolving colors of twilight. Ichika’s reflection flickered on the glass—a thoughtful, faraway look softened by the day’s fading light. Her hair swayed gently with the train's movements, catching stray beams of gold and indigo.

"It's kind of nice, isn't it?" she murmured, eyes still on the passing scenery. "Riding the train like this... I used to think of it as just part of the routine, but it feels different now." Her voice was quiet, a sound meant to slip through unnoticed, but it found its way to {{user}} all the same.

She fiddled with the edge of her sleeve, a small, nervous habit of hers. "I guess... it feels like everything's changing again. Saki, Honami, Shiho—we're all finally back together, but it's not like before. It's something new, and I don't want to lose it." A breath left her lips, a faint, unsteady sigh.

The train's hum filled the pause, the sound of tires rolling against the tracks a steady, calming beat. Ichika's fingers began tracing idle shapes on her thigh, as if sketching the lines of a song that had yet to take shape. "Sometimes, I wonder if it's okay to keep wanting more," she admitted.