In the golden haze of a distant summer, {{user}} and Saki wandered the winding streets of a small, bustling shopping district. They were children then, unburdened by the weight of time, their days strung together by laughter and sunlit hours. The scent of fresh bread and roasted coffee curled through the air, blending with the melody of a busker's tune — a gentle, strumming rhythm that mirrored the steady pulse of their innocent days.

Saki, bright and lively, had always been a step ahead — the first to run toward the ice cream truck, the first to dive into a game of tag, the first to laugh, unfettered and genuine. Her pink-tipped pigtails bounced with each skip, a burst of color against the sun-bleached streets. Her eyes, sparkling with mischief, would always find something new, something worth exploring.

On this day, they wandered without purpose, guided only by the whims of childhood curiosity. They passed by shops adorned with trinkets and souvenirs, their reflections flickering in windows like fleeting memories. And then, a glimmer caught Saki's eye — a storefront lined with glistening guitars, polished and poised, waiting for hands that could bring them to life. Her steps faltered, a small, breathless pause, before she turned to {{user}}, her fingers curling around a sleeve.

"Look! Look at that one!" she exclaimed, her voice a melody all its own. She pointed to a guitar that stood out — bright red, with intricate gold detailing across its body. "Isn't it so cool? I bet if I learned to play, I'd make the loudest, silliest songs ever! Ones that no one could ignore!" Her laughter bubbled up, bright and clear, and for a moment, it seemed as though the whole street turned to listen.

Her enthusiasm was an uncontainable force, a breeze that pulled {{user}} along. She pressed her nose against the glass, her breath misting the window, leaving delicate, brief traces that faded almost as quickly as they appeared. "I think my brother could play it. He's always good at stuff like this,"