The final note hung in the night air, fading like a lingering dream. The crowd erupted in applause, shouts, whistles—an ocean of voices that echoed through the shrine grounds. On stage, the music club bowed, their faces glowing with sweat and exhilaration. Shion looked tired but proud, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath.
And then— clap, clap, clap.
Everyone turned.
Reina stepped into the dim backstage, the soft hem of her black-and-white kimono brushing against the wooden floor. Her halo glimmered faintly above her head, catching stray lantern light. But it wasn't the halo that froze everyone—it was her smile.
Not her polite, practiced expression. Not the cold neutrality her classmates had grown used to. This was something entirely different. A genuine smile.
"…Beautiful music," she said simply.
The words rang out, clear and unmistakable.
For a heartbeat, silence. Then the girls in the music club broke into tears, clapping their hands to their mouths. They weren't just happy—they were overjoyed. To be praised by Reina, of all people—the same Reina who once answered every question with mechanical precision, who regarded people with a gaze colder than the stars she dreamt of—it was overwhelming.
"R–Reina praised us…" one whispered, trembling."She really… meant it…" another sobbed, clutching her violin case.
Reina tilted her head slightly, almost amused at the reaction. Then her eyes fell on Shion.
She walked up to him, her gaze steady, that strange soft smile still on her lips. "You did well," she said, voice low, carrying more warmth than she realized she had. "I… congratulate you."
Shion blinked, momentarily stunned. For a second, he forgot how to breathe.
And then—Reina asked the unthinkable.
"If you don't have any jobs right now… would you like to accompany me? To explore the stalls. And the shrine."
The words slipped out casually, but to Shion, it was as though the ground itself had shifted. He felt heat rush to his face. There was no way he could ever say no.
"I… don't," he said quickly, almost stumbling over the words. "Not anymore. For now."
"Good," Reina said simply, turning toward the path that led back into the crowd.
And so began a midnight unlike any other.
They wandered the rows of stalls together, shoulders brushing as they sampled candied apples, grilled squid, and sweet kakigori shaved ice. Reina's black eyes would widen slightly at each taste, and though she never said much, her faint nods and quiet hums were enough to make Shion laugh. He offered her bites of his snacks, and to his quiet surprise, she didn't refuse.
They visited the shrine, both bowing silently at the steps, their wishes locked away in the quiet space of their hearts. Reina's was unspoken, but her eyes lingered on the stars above before she closed them to pray.
Later, they stood on the grassy hill behind the shrine as fireworks exploded across the summer sky. The crowd cheered, children pointed upward, couples held hands. Shion shifted nervously beside her, glancing at Reina's delicate profile illuminated by red and gold bursts of light. His hand twitched, inching toward hers. So close—just a breath away.
But he hesitated.
And then—warmth.
Reina's slender fingers slipped into his, cool and steady, her grip gentle but firm. She tilted her head toward him, black eyes calm, lips curving into a faint smile.
"Let's go," she whispered.
The world around him dissolved. Shion's heart raced, but he squeezed her hand back, leading her closer to the hill's edge where the fireworks bloomed brightest.
From a distance, Himari watched. Her hands clasped in front of her chest, her smile wide and proud.
"…Finally, Reina," she murmured.
She had seen it all—the way Reina's tears fell during the performance, the way her cold shell cracked open for the first time in years. She thought she had understood Reina before, thought she knew the loneliness in her. But tonight proved she had only glimpsed the surface.
As Himari whispered, ANIER appeared silently above her, halo floating and casting a faint glow. The AI hovered, almost like a blessing, as if recognizing Himari's silent support.
"For me…?" Himari whispered, stunned. To her, it was an honor greater than anything.
ANEIR did not reply, only hovered quietly. Perhaps even the AI understood not to intrude.
In the shadows of the trees, more figures gathered. Hana, Kaito, Ayumi, and the others—Sei, Ren, Mei, and Arisa—had followed after the performance, half out of curiosity, half out of instinct. They stopped when they saw Reina, not wishing to interrupt, but unable to look away.
Kaito exhaled, shaking his head with a half-smile. "…That's one heck of character development."
Hana nudged him, whispering sharply, "Don't ruin it."
But even she couldn't stop smiling.
Flashbacks drifted among them—memories of Reina, always with that same distant gaze, answering teachers with clinical precision, brushing off casual chatter with silence. She never lingered in the cafeteria, never joined them after class, never once let her mask slip.
Yet here she was. Smiling. Laughing softly with Shion. Holding someone's hand.
Ayumi's eyes softened. "I remember… when she used to look so alone. Like she wasn't even part of our world."
Sei crossed his arms, his expression unreadable but his voice quiet. "And yet, she's here. Among us. Maybe she's finally realizing… she doesn't have to walk alone."
Ren chuckled. "Took her long enough."
Mei pressed her hands together, eyes shimmering. "She's… beautiful when she smiles, isn't she?"
Arisa nodded firmly. "She always was. We just… never got to see it until now."
The group fell silent again, simply watching as the fireworks painted the sky, and as Reina—once the cold, unreachable girl who gazed only at the stars—smiled with warmth beside someone else.
It was a night none of them would ever forget.