In a sleepy seaside village nestled between cliffs and misty pine forests, a young witch named Kiki lived in a crooked little house with a red-tiled roof. She wore a navy-blue dress, always a bit too big, and a large bow that flopped when the wind picked up. Kiki spent her days delivering baked goods on her broom and helping the townsfolk with small spells—mending teapots, coaxing stubborn fires, and guiding lost cats home.

Though she loved her work and her quiet life, Kiki often looked to the sky and wondered what other witches were like. She had left home young, as was tradition, but had never met another witch since her arrival in the village.

One stormy evening, while flying home from a delivery, Kiki spotted a strange sight: a swirling funnel of wind rising from the edge of the cliffs. It wasn’t just a natural storm—she could feel the magic. Curious, she steered her broom toward it.

Hovering just above the whirl was another girl on a broomstick, her silver hair whipping around her face. She wore a flowing cloak stitched with cloud patterns, and as she spun her staff, the wind itself seemed to dance with her.

Kiki shouted over the roar, “Hey! Are you a witch too?”