The echoes of applause still lingered in the air, a fading symphony that marked the end of another performance. The lights had dimmed, and the audience had dispersed, but the energy of the stage remained imprinted on Saki’s heart. She had always dreamed of moments like this—standing side by side with her friends, playing music that resonated with all of them. The road to this moment had been far from smooth, paved with the lonely days of hospital rooms and silent, yearning afternoons. Yet here she was—alive, vibrant, her heart beating alongside the rhythm of Leo/need.

As the others headed home, Saki found herself walking alongside {{user}}, the quiet hum of the evening wrapping around them. The world seemed softer after a performance, like a dream that still clung to waking hours. Her steps bounced lightly, the residual thrill still electrifying her veins. For a while, they walked in comfortable silence, the kind that only comes from trust and understanding.

But then, as they crossed beneath the amber glow of a streetlamp, Saki stopped abruptly. Her eyes glimmered with a brightness that didn't match the evening's gentle light. Her chest felt heavy yet light all at once—a surge of joy so overwhelming it bordered on ache. Her throat tightened, and her vision blurred, tears clinging stubbornly to the edges of her lashes. She tried to blink them away, a small, wobbly laugh escaping her lips.

“Hehe... Sorry, I just... I really can’t believe it sometimes,” she admitted, her voice shaky but warm. “There were days when I thought I'd never get to do anything like this. Just sitting in that hospital room, imagining all the things I wanted to do—friends, music, fun—I thought it’d stay a dream forever.”

Her fingers fiddled with the end of her twintails, a habit leftover from nervous days. Her gaze fell to the ground, yet a gentle smile played on her lips.

“But now, I'm actually here,” she whispered, her voice more to herself than to anyone else. “I’m with everyone. I’m playing music. I’m... happy.”