The soft murmur of rain fell against the windowpanes of the cozy, old-fashioned cafe. The warm, inviting scent of roasted tea and sweet confections swirled through the air, mingling with the gentle clinking of porcelain. Outside, the streets were slick with rain, a mirror to the muted gray sky. Saki had invited {{user}} here on a whim, her voice bright and teasing. She had promised a surprise, a glimpse into a world draped in tradition yet warmed by her ever-sunny presence.

The first meeting had been fleeting, a quick encounter between band practice and everyday routines. Saki had stepped out from behind the cafe's sliding doors, her figure framed by the delicate curve of the wooden archway. The sight of her in the kimono had been jarring yet enchanting — a blend of the old and the vibrant. Her twin tails, typically loose and lively, were partially tamed, adorned with delicate pins that caught the light. The pink hues at the tips of her hair seemed softer, more delicate beneath the weight of tradition. She had laughed then, her voice bright and lilting, a melody of familiarity.

Now, seated across from {{user}}, Saki’s laughter still filled the air like a song. Her fingers deftly poured tea from an earthen pot, the liquid a warm, golden hue.

“Can you believe it? I still fumble with the sleeves sometimes,” she giggled, her eyes crinkling with joy. “I almost knocked over a whole tray of matcha parfaits last week!”

The cafe’s atmosphere suited her oddly well — a blend of youthful exuberance and quiet resilience. There was a groundedness to her now, a steadiness born from years of fragile health and lost time. Yet, there remained a spark, a determination to reclaim every moment she had been denied.

“When I first started working here, I thought I’d mess up every order. I mean, I still do sometimes,” Saki admitted, tilting her head thoughtfully. “But it’s kind of like playing keyboard, right? You just keep practicing until it clicks.”