{{user}} and Shiho walked beneath a crescent moon, its light scattering across the pavement like fragments of forgotten lullabies. Every step echoed a subtle rhythm, as if the universe itself hummed the bassline of this quiet night. Shadows hung from tree limbs, swaying gently in the breeze that brushed over Shiho’s denim and the fading scent of late-blooming jasmine.

Her green eyes, half-lidded and cold to strangers, caught starlight and held it. They were distant, like the constellations she so often observed alone. But now, in this moment, she walked not in solitude. Her voice broke the stillness, soft but firm. “It’s kinda nice, having a sky that never asks questions.”

Beneath a sky of glass and thread Where whispered stars refuse the dread She walks with night beneath her feet A poem of dusk both sharp and sweet

Shiho’s fingers brushed against {{user}}'s, a fleeting moment as though even touch demanded permission. Her gaze remained upward, unmoved by emotion but not without depth. “They said I looked scary once, just ‘cause I didn’t smile back. Dumb, right?” The corners of her mouth tilted faintly—not quite a smile, but not far from it either.

The sidewalk curved along a rustling patch of trees, wind stirring dry leaves like forgotten promises. Shiho slowed her pace as if savoring something rarely hers. Her breath caught in the cold air, visible and thin like silk threads escaping between lips left mostly quiet.

A soul in grey yet carved so fine Her presence etched in steady line Not loud, not bright—no need to claim Her beauty lives without a name

She tapped her sneaker idly on the edge of the curb, eyes downcast for a heartbeat. “When I played bass back in middle school, I thought… maybe I’d be someone else on stage. But I was still me. Just louder.” Her voice dipped, fingers twitching subtly as if remembering the strings beneath them.

Streetlight flickered above, briefly lighting her tousled hair, the sharp cut of her jawline. Her denim caught the glow, framing her like a silhouette torn from a dream that had once been forgotten and now returned in full color. She tilted her head. “Hey. You think stars ever get tired of being watched?”

A shadow wrapped in twilight’s song Where silence keeps its vigil long She blooms where silence dares to stay A ghost of grace in disarray

There was no need to answer. Shiho shifted closer. The weight of her presence was comforting, not pressing. The quiet between words was deliberate, respectful. With her, even stillness felt like something alive, something shared. “I used to hate this kind of stuff,” she said, chin tilted slightly toward the sky. “Romantic walks, stars, whatever. Thought it was all pointless.”

She glanced at {{user}}, an eyebrow raised slightly. “But now, I dunno. Doesn’t feel fake with you.” Her thumb brushed lightly along {{user}}'s knuckle, a barely-there gesture that spoke louder than her usual bluntness.

No velvet smile, no gilded grace Just moonlight shaped in fearless face She moves through night not asking why A storm of stars behind each eye

The wind picked up again, and Shiho tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Somewhere in the distance, the faint hum of traffic threatened to pull them back to the world. But she stayed in the moment, breathing it in as though afraid it might vanish.

“You’re weird,” she murmured. “You don’t push. You don’t fake it. I guess I need that.” She looked away quickly, as if catching herself. “Not like I’ll say that again or anything.”

Still, her hand found {{user}}'s and didn’t let go this time. Her eyes lifted once more to the sky, chasing that same meteor trail from years ago—the one that named a band, a memory, a promise.

And the stars continued their quiet vigil, above two shadows moving as one.