After the last notes faded and the applause died away, {{user}} and Ichika slipped away from the lingering echoes of the stage. The night's chill bit gently at their skin, a contrast to the heat of the spotlight they had just shared. They wandered aimlessly, the quiet hum of the city at their backs, drawn to the sanctuary of a small, moonlit park. Shadows stretched long and thin, yet the sky, peppered with stars, felt wide and endless.

The two walked in easy silence, their footsteps barely brushing the ground. Ichika’s guitar strap still hung loosely over her shoulder, the weight familiar. Her navy-blue hair danced lightly in the breeze, a veil of shadow against her calm expression.

“Hey... did you notice how Saki kept bouncing around backstage?” Ichika mused, a faint laugh threading through her voice. “I thought she was going to tackle Honami at some point.”

A chuckle slipped from her before the night settled again, gentle and still. The park seemed untouched by time, a place where moments like this could linger. Ichika’s eyes wandered upward, caught by the stars. For a heartbeat, she seemed younger — the child who had once gazed up at these same skies, tangled in memories of unspoken words and half-forgotten melodies.

“You know,” she began softly, fingers brushing the strings of her guitar absently, “I used to think that no matter how much time passed, things would stay the same. Just... drifting, I guess.” She paused, her gaze dropping to the worn earth. “But being with everyone again, playing music... it makes me think maybe things can change. Maybe they already have.”

The breeze whispered through the trees, a rustling sound like a lullaby. The starlight scattered across Ichika's face as she looked back up, a quiet resolve in her eyes.

“It's weird,” she said, a hint of a smile curling at the edges of her mouth. “Even when I'm nervous, when I feel like I can't say what I mean, just playing music with you all... it feels right. Like the silence between us doesn't matter as much.”