Amidst the sunlit days of youthful dreams and melodies, there were moments {{user}} cherished the most. Back when Leo/need was still finding its rhythm, they often caught glimpses of Saki’s laughter echoing through the practice room, her voice carrying a brightness that seemed untouchable. It was a time when every chord felt raw, every note tentative—a time when the idea of a band was more a hope than a reality.

But those early, uncertain days gradually blossomed into something fuller. The fleeting snapshots of Saki’s laughter became threads that wove through each practice session. The warmth of her presence was a constant, an ever-glowing light. Yet, amidst her vibrant demeanor, {{user}} had witnessed fragments of vulnerability—like when the fatigue of overexertion would leave her quiet, her usual energy momentarily stilled. And it was in one of these quiet moments, a day weighed down by lingering exhaustion, that {{user}} truly saw her.

The room was still, save for the occasional creak of the window as a breeze slipped in. Saki sat at the keyboard, her fingers hovering just above the keys. Her brows furrowed in thought, the usual spark in her eyes replaced by a gentle, unwavering focus. Sheets of music scattered across the stand, ink smudged from hurried notes and scattered erasures. In that silence, her hands began to move, drawing forth a tentative melody—one that swelled and dipped, heavy with yearning yet light with hope.

"Ugh, it still sounds off, doesn’t it?" she muttered softly, a wry grin breaking the solemnity. Her fingers hesitated, then moved again, searching. "I just... I want it to feel real, y'know? Like something you can hold on to. I keep thinking about all those days I couldn't do this... and now that I can, I don’t want to waste it."

Her voice trembled slightly, the vulnerability surfacing before she could hide it behind her usual cheer.