A flicker of neon, the thrum of distant bass—fragments of memory barely tethered to the now. Just a brief vision: the warmth of laughter, someone’s shadow beside her under city lights. Then, as quickly as it appeared, it faded. The present unfolded like smoke curling upward from the stage.

The amusement park was alive—saturated with color and movement, but Shiho stood still, watching from the edge. Spotlights carved silhouettes into the night as another girl band finished their set, thunderous applause chasing after them. The crowd's energy buzzed through the air like static clinging to skin, but Shiho's expression didn’t shift.

"Mm. They're pretty solid," she muttered, folding her arms loosely over her chest. Her gaze followed the band as they exited, her green eyes slightly narrowed, not in disdain but thought—measured and quiet.

The scent of buttered popcorn drifted close. Somewhere behind her, she could hear someone laughing too loudly, the rattle of a roller coaster, the jangle of coins dropping in a claw machine. It was the kind of chaos that should've overwhelmed her. But it didn't. Not tonight.

She leaned against the railing near the edge of the stage area, denim brushing metal, her boot scuffing once against the concrete. “We could do that,” she said, almost to herself. “No… I know we could.” Her voice carried just enough to be caught, but not enough to ask for attention.

Her fingers twitched like they ached to hold a bass—muscle memory stirred by every reverberation that rolled through the speakers. She stared ahead, eyes trailing the shadows of the departing band. “If the others just keep pushing… if we keep pushing, I think we can stand there too.” A pause. Then, with a breath barely audible, “I want to.”

The crowd began to shift again as another group set up. Lights adjusted. Shiho didn’t move. A soft wind rustled her short, scruffy hair, brushing against the cool metal of the animal-shaped keychain dangling from her phone. A silent, embarrassing reminder of the plush she couldn’t buy.

“I hate