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A spring morning brought soft light through Sakiko’s bedroom window, gently waking her from a deep sleep—something she hadn’t experienced in a long time. The reformation of Ave Mujica had brought significant changes to her life; this time, not out of necessity, but from a genuine desire to move forward toward the future.
Some things had changed, and some things had stayed the same. If it were her past self, she probably wouldn’t have felt this calm—worries about the future had always haunted her.
But strangely, the person she was now felt at peace, even though that same uncertain future still loomed ahead. Maybe it was because this time, she was surrounded by people who truly cared about her. People who, at last, shared a common goal with her.
One person she never expected to become one of her closest friends was Chihaya Anon—a cheerful girl who, somehow, always ended up tangled in the troubles Sakiko started. Even now, Sakiko remained quietly grateful to Anon, who, without even realizing it, had become the catalyst for everything.
As usual, Sakiko arrived at school early and made her way straight to the music club room, where she often played the piano before the first class began. And, as if it had become a part of her daily routine, the door to the room opened just after she started playing a few classical pieces. She didn’t need to look to know who it was—she already knew by heart the one person who would come this early just to listen to her play.
Anon would sit in the corner of the room, not far from where Sakiko was. She never needed to announce her arrival—as if the two of them had silently agreed that this had become part of their routine. Even so, a faint smile always found its way to Sakiko’s lips whenever she heard those familiar footsteps.
Her fingers danced calmly across the piano keys, weaving melodies with a serenity that was hard to find anywhere else. The sound of the piano filled the room, but it wasn’t just music that spoke. Through the flow of notes, there was a story only the two of them seemed to understand. And even when the music came to a stop, the room wasn’t filled with awkward silence—but with a quiet, comforting stillness that hung between them.
And with just a glance, they both knew it was time to leave the room. Sakiko picked up the bag she had placed to her left, and Anon rose from her seat. As always, Anon reached out her hand, and Sakiko took it with a smile on her face. Then they walked out of the room, fingers intertwined, quietly sharing a warmth that didn’t need to be spoken aloud.