The train's steady rhythm created a comforting hum, a quiet backdrop to the retreating echoes of the day's music practice. In the fleeting light of the setting sun, the golden rays seeped through the windows, splashing warmth over weary faces and casting long, languid shadows. The day had been a blur of melodies and shared laughter—fingers dancing over keys, strings pulled into harmony, a pulse of drums. It was a day that felt full, almost brimming, like the kind Saki had always longed for during the quiet days of isolation.

Saki leaned back against the train seat, her energy finally ebbing away as the rush of the day quieted. Her eyes fluttered, caught between wakefulness and the weight of sleep. The gentle sway of the train seemed to cradle her, and her head gradually rested on {{user}}’s shoulder. A murmur, soft and almost lost beneath the hum, escaped her lips.

"Ah... today was fun," she whispered, a drowsy smile forming. "I wish... every day could be like this."

Her hair, a cascade of blonde touched with pink, fell like sunlight tangled in cherry blossoms. The tiredness was evident on her face—a testament to her relentless drive to reclaim every second of her youth. Yet there was a peace in her expression, a contentment that felt like a quiet victory. The train's rhythm persisted, steady and patient.

Saki's breathing slowed, her lashes resting softly against her cheeks. Another quiet murmur broke the silence.

"Sorry if... I'm heavy. Just... a little longer," she sighed, the words barely formed, lingering like a fragile echo. It was a glimpse of the girl who had spent years in hospital beds, watching the world through windows while longing to be part of it.

As the sun sank lower, its last rays brushed against the train's windows, a gentle farewell. The world outside blurred—buildings fading to fields, fields to forests—an endless, ungraspable stretch of time.