"Grandma, where's my kimono?"

"I don't know! You were holding it!"

"Grandma, my obi—Garburias, my sandals!"

Grandma shoves the sliding door open, and her jaw drops. "Shirona! Stop, stop, stop!" She lunges just in time to prevent her granddaughter from going bald. "That's the problem with your hair! You have too much hair!"

Shirona prides herself in her golden hair. It's not a common color in Sinnoh either. And it does take a lot of maintenance, contrary to popular belief. "Grandma—"

"And you never pick up after yourself!" A fan smacks her neck. Shirona rolls her eyes—and that earns her another smack. "Stop fidgeting! Ugh, and you can't even put the haneri right!"

"It's not my fault," Shirona huffs, stiffening as Grandma wraps the obi around her waist. "I only wear this twice a month."

"I'm not letting you perform in your street clothes," Grandma snaps. "All the important faces in Sinnoh will be there. I've also invited Kikuno, and she's ecstatic just to see you again! Oh, and all your friends will be there too, yeah? Do you want to show up like a takoyaki vendor?"

Don't hate on the food, sheesh. The fan comes again. Shirona manages to sneak in some last minute protests before everyone stops talking to let Grandma focus on her work.

Then the old lady steps back. "You look good, kid!" she says with a low whistle. Garburias shuffles into the room, beaming once it sees its Trainer.

Shirona peers into the mirror. She lifts up a dangling sleeve. Checks if her butt looks big. "I can't move in this."

"You'll just be onstage," is the dismissive reply. "You're not running a marathon."

"There's like, a nest on my head."

"I got that hairclip from your grandpa eons ago. Be grateful." Grandma puts a hand on her hip. "And your dad sent in those cute kanzashi. Shame you don't look more like him though… But then again, he's an ogre compared to your mom."

Shirona snorts. At this rate, she's practically lugging a giant castle on her shoulders. "Garburias, do you have my flashcards?"

Grandma sighs. "Are you really going to use flashcards up there?"

"Grandma. Waka poetry might be simple, but it's very easy to mess up. I wrote them, but that doesn't mean that I'll remember them." There's an itch from somewhere under these layers of clothes.

"I have to play the shamisen," the old lady grumbles. "All you do is read words. I have to memorize the whole damn thing. And you don't see me complaining, do you?"

"Grandma…"

After the old woman spiffs up the granddaughter all nice and neat, the former waves Shirona away. "It's my turn to look pretty, so you go look at grass or something.

"I'm going out to eat," Shirona mutters. "I can't perform on an empty stomach."

"Wear a bib."

"Grandma!"

The old woman cackles. Even Garburias is chuckling. "You're not a child anymore, kid," she says. "But if you so much as get a stain on your kimono…"

Shirona scowls. "Yes, yes, I'll be careful." She glances out the windows, to the clear blue skies. "Well. I'm off!"

"WAIT!"

ACK! My eardrums! Something smacks her elbow, and it's not the fan. There's a glint in Grandma's eyes—a glint that sends gooseflesh down Shirona's neck.

"It just so happens that we have an extra ticket," the old woman says innocently. "You know… if you happen to run across anyone that might be interested…"

Shirona snatches that extra ticket. "I-I don't know what you're talking about, Grandma!" Her voice breaks, and Grandma's smirk widens. "D-Don't look at me like that! Yeesh! I'm leaving!"

Shirona urges Togekiss to fly faster, but Grandma's voice is able to travel through time. "You better come back in time, young whippersnapper! Don't be late!"

The main city is crowded today. As like every day, but this particular day sees more people in suits and vibrant kimonos on the streets.

People make way for Shirona as she passes.

"Oi! If it isn't Shirona-san!"

Shirona swivels around, and her face bursts into sunshine. "Oba-kun!" she chirps. "Denzi-kun!"

Oba grins as he runs forward—and stops in his tracks. "Um…" His grey eyes bounce across each ornament on her body. "Oh. So no hugs today, eh?"

"Heh…" Shirona picks at her haneri. "Guess not."

"Are you nervous, Shirona?" Denzi's never the type for politeness. He just does whatever he wants—a decent lifestyle. "You've been practicing… right?"

"Of course, Denzi-kun! Nonstop since three days ago!"

Denzi snorts. "I usually wing it. But…" He scratches the back of his spiky blond hair. "I mean… the dignitaries are coming. There's quite a lot of big names where we come from…" A sigh. "You have your work cut out for you."

Shirona laughs. "Lucky you, Denzi-kun. So, how your work going?"

"He snuck out," Oba says, but he's smirking. How does he keep his hair like that? It's all… puffy. Like a red Meriipu just sat on his head. "All we do is file, Shirona-san. It gets pretty boring when you're just sitting at a desk all day."

"At least I have something to look forward to." Denzi fishes for his ticket. "Never composed poetry myself, but at least the hall will be air-conditioned." He yawns until tears spring to his eyes. "It's just so hot over there…"

"Last year it was held at Yosuga," Cynthia says. "Your place has a busy governmental district too. We're lucky to have them host us this year."

"Shirona-san's in high demand." Oba shoves his hands into his pockets, a sloppy smile appearing on his face. "Man, Mimiroppu's got nothing on you! I can feel your burning passion, Shirona-san! You'll ace the performance, I know you will!"

Oba's always so passionate. Almost eccentrically so. Compared to Denzi, who can't even keep his eyes fully open. I guess opposites attract, eh?

"Well," Denzi says. "We shouldn't keep you, Shirona. We'll see you soon."

Shirona bobs her ornament-laden head. Denzi picks up a fallen hairclip. "Thanks, you two," she says. "I'll see you later!"

When the two friends depart, Shirona wades deeper into the bustling crowd. Let's see… The aroma of street food attracts her stomach, but… Grandma's nagging flashes into mind, and Shirona reluctantly turns away. I want something greasy. Fried, savory… Salad and sashimi are so BORING!

Shirona freezes. Wait. Okonomiyaki! Taiyaki! Korokke, and it smells AAAHH! Woah! Shioyaki! WITH MAYONAISE!

"Thank you for referring to our company for your plumbing needs. Please do not hesitate…"

Shirona skids to a halt. Is that—HOLY ARUSEUSEU IT IS! She runs her hands down her face. Gotta get all this hair out of the way. Show the neck a bit…

"Thank you, sir. I'm sorry? Well, you can request me specifically if that suits you. Just let them know when you call." The young man turns. "Pardon me, ma'am."

"A-Akagi-kun?"

Akagi stiffens. His head whips around until it lands on the decorated roadblock. Eyes connect for just a brief second before he yanks on his faded cap.

"P-Please forgive me for my insolence, ma'am."

She grabs that bony wrist before he can dash off. "Akagi-kun!" she exclaims. "It's me, Shirona!"

That name jars him back to the present. Akagi carefully lifts his head, his gaze hovering in the air around her before converging inwards. Then those dim eyes widen. "S-Shirona-sama?"

The young woman grins. "Akagi-kun!"

Akagi's mouth falls open. He stares at her, as if not really seeing her, despite her clamping on his wrist. His gaze lingers on the ornate pattern of her kimono, the vibrant dyes of the obi… the glimmering stars scattered around this queen and her eminence.

Shirona awkwardly releases him when there's no response from the other side. He covers his mouth. His gaze catches on her face again before he lowers his head.

"You…" Akagi clears his throat. "I didn't recognize you at first, Shirona-sama."

That earns him a soft laugh. "Hehe. I only wear this twice a month." Shirona holds up her sleeves. "Does this outfit make my butt look big?"

Akagi lowers his cap. She tries again. "What'cha doing out here, Akagi-kun?" She points to his toolbox. "Working?"

No response. Shirona raises an eyebrow.

"M-My apologizes," Akagi mutters weakly. "Erm. I think you look… Erm. H-Here." A napkin. "It's clean, I assure you. You should wipe your hands."

Shirona complies. The mason whose toilet Akagi had just fixed is smirking at the awkwardness that are these two whippersnappers.

Then she hears it. It takes all her willpower not to crack a smile. "Akagi-kun," she says gently. "Do you want to have lunch with me?"

Conversation skids to a standstill. Eyes press upon Akagi's back, and all the color drains from his face. "No!" He curses himself. "I-I mean… n-no. No, ma'am. No need to concern yourself with me. Good day—"

His stomach growls again. People are gawking. She grabs his suspenders before he can make a break for it.

"Come on, Akagi-kun." Is he okay? He's probably really, really hungry. "Hey, don't worry. It's my treat! I know a really good spot!"

People are whispering. Akagi takes a shallow, painful breath. "A-All right," he whispers. "Fine. Let's go."

"Yay!"

Akagi grows increasingly quiet when they've crossed the cobblestone roads into a district of clean-cut streets. Of sheared bamboo groves, of red gates and raked gardens. His pace slows significantly, and Shirona has to give him a little push to jolt this human Fuwante back to life.

She stops at an ornate shop with tiled, sloping roofs etched in gold. Shimmering dragons dance down the pattered wood. Inside the thick, mahogany doors is a zen garden complete with every bonsai species on this side of Tengan Bridge.

"This is the waiting area," Shirona says. Akagi bobs his head. Hmm? Is he that hungry already?

The waitress bows at the incoming noblewoman. "Good day, ma'am. We have a nice table in the back. It's perfect for bird-watching."

"No thanks," Shirona replies. "Table for two please."

"Two…?" The waitress's smile drops in a heartbeat. "Two?" she repeats, almost in disbelief.

"Yes…" One. Two. Duh. "Is there a problem?"

"Oh. N-No, of course not, ma'am." The waitress's eyes are hard. "Right this way."

The restaurant consists of multiple rooms, complete with a perfect window view of the lotus pond.

"Akagi, sit down."

He stares down at the spotless tatami mats. At the embroidered cushions. Then he silently takes the seat behind the koi water fountain. An outsider would look into the restaurant and see Shirona sitting by herself.

She shows him the menu. "Look, Akagi-kun. You have got to try the wagyu beef. Perfect marbling, completely melts in your mouth! Ooh, and this stew… hmmhm. This donburi looks really, really good too…"

Shirona finally looks up. "Um. Do you want anything, Akagi-kun?" He offers a faint smile. Maybe he doesn't know what to order. First time, huh? You're missing out.

An order is taken, and the food comes within minutes. Shirona inhales the scent of glimmering, tender meat. HoLY ARuSeuSEu this IS HEAVEN. She clicks the porcelain chopsticks and digs in.

Only halfway into cleaning half the dishes does she look up. Oh. No wonder. "Excuse me!" she calls to the waiter. "Can I have another set of chopsticks? And a bowl! Thanks." She presents the items to her silent companion. "Akagi-kun, have you ever eaten matsutake? Here. And some sauce."

Akagi offers that smile again. Shirona grins and resumes eating. Something dashes across her peripheral vision—whatever that thing was had just landed on her kimono. Why does Grandma always have to be right?! Where's the napkin—

A silken napkin is slid into her vision. This place is one of the few to monogram their napkins like this. "Thanks!" Shirona says, and Akagi nods. He goes back to inspecting his cap for the millionth time.

And with a sip of premium green tea, Shirona finally speaks. "Are you free later, Akagi-kun?"

Akagi stops abusing his poor cap. "Why?"

Oh shi—Was that too direct? "Um." Welp. Now or never. As Grandma says, 'Unlike the seasons, youth only comes once.' "I-I was wondering if you'd like to come… We have an extra ticket, so… yeah."

Akagi's frowns when she presents that shiny piece of washi paper. "You… You're performing, Shirona-sama?"

"Yeah." Her lips quirk on their own. "Waka poetry."

"I see. Will you be reciting from the Man'yoshu, the 'Collection of Myriad Leaves?' Or will it be your original compositions?"

Shirona's food falls from her mouth. If Akagi saw, he doesn't show it. "The what? I-I mean. Yeah." She gropes for that green tea. "Grandma's playing the shamisen. A lot of people are coming… a-and you should too." Those last words come as a whisper.

Akagi's eyes crinkle. "I'm certain that you'll do fine, Shirona-sama. Focus on the task at hand. I'd like to hear about it afterwards, if that's fine with you."

Shirona's cheeks are burning for some strange, unknown reason. "Um. Actually, this ticket is for you. Akagi-kun. So you can come too."

Akagi blinks. Something is not clicking in that complicated brain of his, as shown from his fluttering eyelids. Shirona slides the ticket across the invisible boundary. She even stands to deposit the thing into his hands.

"There will be complementary food!" Shirona adds hastily. "This five-star sushi place will be catering. And it'll be inside, so there's air-conditioning. A-And if you want, I can… save you a seat… in the front…S-So you can hear better!"

Akagi gawks at the piece of paper as if she'd just thrown money at him. Then his expression softens, and he makes that tinkling sound in his throat.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

"I'll be my honor," Akagi says warmly, grasping the ticket to his bosom. "Thank you for the invitation, Shirona-sama."

"O-Of course." Damn it, Shirona! Act natural, damn it it's not that hard! To make matters worse, Akagi had to hand her another napkin. "S-Sheesh. Don't make such a big deal out of it."

She jumps to her feet. "C-Come on. Let's go. I need to get home before Grandma yells at me again." Shirona pours a stream of coins on the counter. Afterwards, she leads him back out the business district, and then it's his turn to lead her through the crowds.

They stop at the port. "I'll have to finish a commission," Akagi says. "But I'll be right over, I assure you." He gives one more longing gaze at the ticket before tucking it into his shirt pocket. "Remember to drink water before performing. And it's perfectly normal to be nervous, but I believe in you."

STOP. STOPPPP. Do you say that to everyone?! Shirona fumbles for Togekiss's Poke ball. The bird snorts at her expression, and she replies with eyes full of daggers.

"Excuse me! Shirona-sama!"

Okay. Okay just turn. Just turn and act natural. "YEAH?!"

"Where will your performance be taking place?"

Oh. Oops. Glad he caught that for me. What was that place called…?

"The City Bathed in Sunlight!" she shouts back. "Nagisa City! See ya there!"

Grandma's friend greets the granddaughter with a warm, pleasant smile. The same one she remembers from her childhood, when she first moved into the house at Kannagi Town.

"Shirona-chan," hums the old woman. "You look wonderful, dear."

"Thank you," Shirona says sheepishly. "Kikuno-san."

A pair of steely eyes fall on the collar of her kimono. Shirona instantly hides the matsutake stain with her hair. Grandma raises an eyebrow, but she simply settles to rolling her eyes instead of calling the former out on it in public.

"Shirona-chan." The librarian has this smooth, deep voice. Exactly like the whimsical atmosphere of his library. When he removes his glasses, his curved, intelligent eyes remind her of those of a sage's. His expression is tender as he speaks. "You'll do fine. I believe in you."

"Thank you. And I owe it all to you, Goyo-san, for all your help on the research!"

"That's what I'm here for… oh. Your kanzashi…" Long, slender fingers hover over her hairpin. "There we are. Beautiful, just like the moon."

A snort comes from the corner. "Okay, okay." It's a smirking Ryo. Goyo scowls, but that only makes Ryo snort even harder. "Come on, Mister Librarian. She's not into—"

Goyo smacks him on the back of the head with said book. Kikuno quickly ushers the men outside so Grandma can give her pep talk.

"So."

"I gave it," Shirona grunts, and the old lady brightens as if her granddaughter had just cleaned her room without asking. Grandma smacks Shirona on the back before taking her leave.

Okay… The flashcards cascade down the ground. Damn it! C-Calm down, Shirona. You got this. This isn't your first time. You practiced for the last… few days! Anything is better than nothing!

Shirona peeks through the curtains. Holy Aruseuseu. That's a lot of people. TOO many people. Damn it, don't they have better things to do?!

"And now, I have the utmost pleasure of introducing the heiress to Kannagi's outstanding legacy, the "Queen of Sinnoh" : Shirona-sama!"

The curtains yank back. Her legs turn to gelatin, but it's okay because the wall is right there. She swallows down the squeaks, and she straightens, puffing her chest out with all the dignity of her prestige. The mask firmly in place, Shirona marches forward to accept Goyo's introduction. Roaring applause pounds in her skull, and every step sends a wooden mallet to her head.

DAMN! All the important people are here! Bureaucrats, all the distinguished families of an already distinguished city gathered into one place to watch some girl from the mountains sprout a few lines. She spots the famed mayors of several bustling cities: the alluring Melissa-san, the gruff Tougan-san, the energetic Maxi-san…

"Your parents send warm regards," Grandma whispers from the back, a telephone in hand. Shirona returns to her audience. A flutter of excitement escapes in a gasp when she spots that pampered Persian… but its Trainer isn't in sight. Must be another one then…

Grandma tests the shamisen. She gives a thumbs-up for Goyo to quiet the crowd. All eyes bear into Shirona's neck, and she begins.

"Petals rise in spring

Ushering forth silver breeze

Lit by a red glow;

Behold! The white moon tonight

Lulls the sun to sleep with light."

Plink. Plink. Words flow in rhythm with the shamisen. At some point in the recital, all the saliva evaporates from her mouth. More words filling in the gaps of an insatiable eternity, but the audience remains transfixed at her beauty and voice.

When Oba and Denzi finally make their way to their seats, Shirona takes that fleeting distraction to scan the audience. Her heart plummets, but she keeps her chin up and marches on.

"Congratulations, Shirona-sama!"

"You were amazing up there, Nii-san!"

"Shirona-san, may I take a photo with you?"

"Shiron-san, over here! Shirona-san!"

Goyo is an effective paparazzi filter. He allows the mayors to approach so they can praise Shirona for her outstanding performance.

"My son loved your Waka poetry!" Tougan grunts. "He was very moved when someone finally talked about rocks…"

"Excuse me." That voice comes from the man holding the Persian. It's a different person—a shorter one, lankier, with thin eyebrows and an upturned smile. "I am Apollo. And this is Lance. We are—"

"Heeeeey!" She recognizes that smell from anywhere: machine oil and the slight trace of sake. "Shirona-chan! You did amazing up there, kid!"

"L-Lambda-san…" Her voice is faint.

"Yup! 'Tis I, Lambda!" His grin slips. "Whoa, why the long face? You slayed it!"

"Oh, it is something," Apollo sniffs, scratching Persian behind the ears. "While you were reciting, I've noticed that you kept looking around. Now, call me nosy, but that wasn't part of the act, was it?"

Shirona gasps. The man named Lance is eating something that suspiciously resembles a Yadon tail. "You are looking at this too much, Apollo," he says through crunches. "But you are not the boss. Don't try to—"

"Watch your pretty little mouth, Lance."

"Okay, okay." Lambda waves the men down. "So… Shirona-chan. How's the kid doing?"

That look on her face says it all. Lambda sees this and scratches his goatee. "Ooof… well. It's bound to happen eventually… Shame that it happened so soon." He herds his companions away. "Well, we're blasting—I mean, we're off. I'll see you around, kid!"

"Shirona-chan." Said woman turns around to see an older woman in a crisp Western dress, a man in a sleek black suit. "That was a marvelous performance. It was a pleasure having you at our humble city."

They shake hands. Their grips are firm. "Your parents must be proud of you," says the man. "Why, we would be proud too, if only we had…"

After more empty congratulations, Shirona finally escapes to the dressing room. She collapses on the couch, manners and societal expectations tossed aside.

The old woman's socks patter about the floor. "I'm sorry, Shirona," Grandma mutters. "I shouldn't have forced your hand…"

And the granddaughter merely buries her face into the cushion.

The very next day, Shirona is sitting on a bamboo stool, mindlessly gnawing at scalding takoyaki when she feels a stale presence on her right.

"Oh." She doesn't have to turn to know who that is. "What do you want?"

A brown envelope is presented with both hands. Shirona glares at it. The young man never raises his head as he gives a deep, silent bow, almost tipping to the ground.

And then he's gone, as fast and sudden as he came.

Grandma barely looks up from her Moomoo Milk when her granddaughter storms down the stairs. Finally, an earthquake had reached Kannagi Town!

"Kid," huffs the old lady. "The stars are out already. Do you want them to fall out of the sky?"

Shirona slams the envelope on the table. Grandma groans. "Who does he think he is?" the former snaps. "He ignores me, then all he does is write a half-ass apology letter? The nerve!"

Grandma opens the envelope and extracts its contents. A folded letter. A napkin, an unused ticket along with its equivalence in Poke. No wonder it's heavy.

"I'm not forgiving him," Shirona barks. "We're through!"

"You two weren't even doing anything." Grandma scans the penmanship. The brief, concise body of text.

The chair scrapes with Shirona's might. "What a jerk. I go out of my way to save him a ticket, take him out to eat, and he chooses not to show up, not even for the last ten minutes to give a proper apology!"

"Maybe he was busy."

"He said he wasn't!" Wait. Did he…? "H-He said he could come," Shirona grumbles.

Grandma sets the letter down. She laces her fingers. "I think he stayed up all night writing this," is the matter-of-factly reply.

"Huh? But look at how short it is! Just a 'I am deeply sorry,' blah blah. 'I wish to maintain a professional relationship with you, Shirona-sama, as you are my client. It would be wise to limit our interactions,' blah blah! Just his usual blathering!"

But Grandma's face is stern. "Shirona." And the granddaughter winces. "Did he want to come out of his free will? Or did you force his hand?"

"He wanted to come." She's playing with her hair again. Shoving it in front of his face. "He complimented me and all that." He said that he believed in me. "And he accepted the ticket."

Grandma gestures at the gleaming coins. "Then he probably did come. But something happened, and he couldn't see you."

Shirona falters. "No. N-No, that's… well. Okay, if he did come. What stopped him from entering? Just show the damn ticket, and bam! It's that easy!"

"Is it really?"

Shirona slumps back into her chair. "You're not making sense, Grandma…"

The old woman frowns. "In my experiences, not many men would hand-deliver an apology letter. Complete with a refund either. Your grandpa—bless his soul—he would've been too flustered to do anything, much less write me a letter and deliver it personally." She lets that sink in. "I think something much more sinister is at play here. He's pushing you away for your own good."

Shirona glares at the notches of the wooden table. "I… I still don't get it." Her voice is a tired breath. She drags the golden curtain from her face. "Why couldn't he just… tell me the truth…?"

"Because the truth might be unpleasant." Grandma could've said something else. But she doesn't. The old woman puts her weathered hands into the other's soft grasp.

"Now, stop moping around and go to sleep. You have a lot of things to do tomorrow!"

That afternoon, Shirona had given up thinking and had retired to her favorite pastime. It just so happens that the new pan-fried udon stand is open. Thank Aruseuseu for the pan-fried udon. She's into her third plate when two asses drop on the opposing chairs.

"Yo!" Oba waves. "Why are you eating by yourself?"

"Is that good?" asks Denzi.

Shirona waves an inviting hand. Oba grins. "Man, Denzi, you have got to try these chives! Burnt, but subtly so. Listen to this crunch."

"The udon is chewy."

"You add seaweed, Denzi." Shirona drenches her udon in the green stuff. "Makes 'em tastier. Brings out the umami."

As they eat, Oba eventually breaks the silence. "Yo, that was a super-hot performance the other day, Shirona-chan!"

"Thanks."

The men exchange a glance. "I know we missed a lot," Denzi says slowly. "But we were there to support you in spirit."

"Thanks…" Shirona orders more pan-fried udon, this time with squid. "Did you oversleep again?"

"Hehe. I took a nap, but I assure you that I woke up with ten minutes to spare." Denzi pats his friend on the back. "It was Oba who took forever. There was some kind of argument in the back of the theatre."

Shirona stops eating. Oba playfully slaps Denzi's hand away. "Someone must've sent for an electrician or something. Or the toilets were broken, I'm not sure. Either way, the guy insisted he had a ticket…" He slurps a particularly thick noodle. "Unfortunately, some forgetful idiot missed Shirona's poetry."

Denzi sets his chopsticks down. "But Oba, I could've sworn that— Shirona? Shirona, where are you going?"

"Oops. She slaps a handful of Poke on the table. "Thanks, you two. I know what I have to do now."

Oba watches as she leaps on Togekiss's back. "You… do?" he mouths. "Um. Good luck."

Grandma was right. "All right, Togekiss." Shirona launches her face to the cloudless blue skies. If I remembered correctly… "Set sail for Tobari City."

The air changes once she crosses Tengan Bridge. Not far from the dazzling lights of Yosuga City lies another place nestled within the mountain faces. Meteorites as main attractions, a skyscraping Department Store… the flashing neon lights of the Game Corner illuminating a winding line of eager players.

Shirona sneezes. There's dust in her throat. The difference between city and town has never been so jarring, nor apparent.

A train rumbles through the rock ledge, sending miniature earthquakes across the ground. Machinery whirling in the distance, giant plumes of smoke billowing into the hazy air. All that's left now is a big building with spikes, she muses.

Shirona hurries to a passerby. "Excuse me. Do you know where Akagi lives?"

"What was the name, ma'am?"

"Um… never mind. Thank you."

More asking around, and it's all the same reply. So Akagi isn't a common name? Strange. The locals suggest she try the post office. But there was a line, and it wrapped blocks.

Shirona eventually has to sit down. Urban life is just so fast-paced. Faces blurring with grey color. A much-needed Lemonade in hand refreshes her brain back to clarity.

Oh yeah! He said… After more poking around, Shirona obtains the name of that plumbing company. That's the good news. Bad news: it's all the way on the other side of Tobari, near the railroads and coal mines.

"Akagi?" grunts the old man working reception. "The kid? Yes, he's on record." His voice suddenly drops. "Is he on audit?"

What? "N-No, sir. I need his address. It's important."

There's… yes, there's fear in the geezer's eyes, but he nevertheless hands over a slip of paper. Shirona feels his heavy gaze on her neck as she exits the building.

Let's see… Past the riverbank, past the old men playing go on the ground… past the playground of abandoned construction equipment… Over the river and through the woods, to Akagi's house I go…

Aruseuseu there's the number, but what's the letter? A row of blocks travels down the road as far as the eyes can see. They're all painted the same shade, molded with the same structure. No name plate to distinguish one from the other.

Welp. Back in the day, as Grandma calls it… Shirona finds a victim and begins.

"Akagi?" a woman says. "He lives down there… Why? Is he in trouble?"

"Why does everyone say that?" Shirona huffs, but she thanks the kind stranger. Moving on.

"Aniki?" gapes a toothless kid.

"No, Akagi," she gently corrects.

"Oh, Aniki! He beat my pa at shogi yesterday!" She points excitedly down the street. "I'll take ya to him!"

Shirona thanks the kid with a pat on the head. She steels herself before anything else. One knock, and the door opens to reveal a bright blue eye.

"Aka-!" No. That's not him! It's frowning old man with an eyepatch.

"We already paid this month." There's a certain harshness in his tone, one that makes Shirona's back stiffen, commands her to look at him in his flashing eye.

Shirona wets her lips. "U-Um… I'm looking for Akagi. Is… he there?"

"Who are you?"

"I'm…" Her brain decides then that it was appropriate to release a loud, obnoxious fart.

The man grates his teeth. "Take the road straight down. You'll reach the gates of the main district. Good day, ma'am."

"Wait—"

She's talking to the door now. Shirona continues to stare at the chipped surface, as if expecting it to talk back. The earth rumbles with a passing train as a warm, dry breeze drags its fingers through the cracks in the road. The skies are darkening, but with this eternal haze, it's impossible to ascertain if the stars had come out.

The sun has gone down, the signal for the street lamps to awaken. Evening in Tobari reveals a completely different city. In the main district, the streets have become bustling constellations. And the smell. The smell of earth, sweat, and fried street food…

Shirona pockets her stationary. She can't see the stars, but she sees the people. She sees families with children, couples both young and old. Across the riverbank she goes, and this time, there are colors in an already colorless district.

OOOOOH! The best damn thing ever was just in front of her: Taiyaki. Western-Tobari style, with yakisoba in its shell. Truly, there's so much about this world that she has yet to see.

There's a small crowd around the park, probably watching some kind of performance. What is that? A big… horn? A couple of horns as big as the human torso. Not flutes. Someone is plucking at an oversized violin, creating deep, rumbling echoes that moves her heart as well as her feet.

"What is that?" Shirona whispers to no one in particular.

"Jazz, ma'am."

"Ooh." So that's what he meant by jazz. Shirona gestures at the instruments. "I've never seen a big violin before."

"That's… the bass, ma'am. That's the trumpet, the saxophone… no, that's the trombone. You can distinguish between them based on… You see, jazz was brought over from Unova, when the emperor opened our ports to the Western world. Isn't it wonderful how people integrate culture into music?"

Shirona giggles. "Wow, you really know a lot about—"

Then blue skies meet rich earth. Time stands still… until the young man's brain resuscitates itself with an electric shock, and he spins a 180°-

"Akagi-kun, wait!" Shirona latches on his wrist, bringing him down to the ground. People are staring again, so she drags that sack of bones to a quieter place, near the fringes of the park.

"Akagi-kun…" She stops him before he can bash his head into the ground. He stiffens when she extends her hands.

But it's just an envelope.

"Please accept it," says the young noblewoman. She watches as he silently lifts the flap, as his brows scrunch upon seeing that letter. As his reads, his expression never changes… except for his eyes. At times they'd brighten, other times they'd darken like rain clouds. His brows would lift and sink like a ship in treacherous waters. He tilts the envelope, and out spills the coins and the ticket.

A silence. Akagi bends to pick up the fallen goods, but he keeps his head bowed. A dry breeze passes between the arbitrary distance, scattering rocks and twigs. Shirona keeps her attention to the ambiguous moon. She ate all this good food, but there's a bitter flavor on her tongue.

"I… I know why people write their thoughts on paper," she says to the dim stars. "Words… get stuck."

Silence. Shirona purses her lips. Wrings the locks of golden hair. "I… I know you came to see the performance, but… I'm sorry. I should've known. You didn't have to go through all that, Akagi-kun… No one deserves to be treated that way…"

Akagi's beginning to worry her. She checks to see if he's still breathing.

"You went out of your way to give this to me?" His voice is a near whisper. He gestures to the surrounding zone, to the hazy night sky. "What about your grandmother? What if something happens to her while you're gone?" Then he scowls. "Did anyone hurt you? Are you—"

"I'm fine, Akagi-kun." Despite everything that happened, the surge of relief is too overwhelming to suppress. She slumps to the ground. "I'm… I'm just glad you're talking to me again."

"Don't sit on the ground… you'll dirty your kimono." She extends her hand, and he reluctantly helps her up. "And why wouldn't I talk to… Oh." He lowers his cap. "I'm sorry. That time, I wasn't sure I could go back to… erm. I was the one at fault here. I didn't mean to be inconsiderate of your feelings."

It's the other way around, sheesh. Shirona bumps him on the arm, and although he cringes ever so slightly, he looks more confused than annoyed.

"Let's go back," she says. He nods. The two maneuver back to the jazz performance, now in its second leg of overture.

To break the awkward but relieving silence, Shirona asks questions. Thank Aruseuseu that Akagi answers. He keeps his hands behind his back, but she hears his fingers. She hears that rhythm, mirrored in perfect synchronicity.

"You really like jazz, huh?"

To that, he offers that soft sound. Like he's clearing his throat but also coughing at the same time. "It's… nice. It reminds me of… Ah, Do you happen to know what this song is called, Shirona-sama? It's an original composition titled: Night in Tobari." He closes his eyes. "I often talk to the bassist—yes, the wielder of the giant violin. He's my client, you see. They've been working on this piece for quite some time, and to see it actually coming true…

"What's your favorite genre of music, Shirona-sama? Do you have one?"

It then occurs to Shirona that there are other things in the world aside from that those gently-upturned lips. She quickly yanks her gaze to his ears—and immediately slides it to the rustling tips of his hair.

Oh Aruseuseu… "Um… the piano?"

After the music ends, Akagi offers to walk her home. "Tobari is rather far from Kannagi, not to mention the Bridge, the mountains at night—"

"Okay." She throws her hair over her shoulder to convey nonchalance. "Sure, why not?" OH HELL YEAH.

"All right. Would you mind riding Dongkarasu?" The crow peers at the woman with narrowed red eyes. Shirona peeks at Togekiss's Poke ball, sees the bird gawking at her through the walls of the capsule.

"Girl, get your hormones together," is what Togekiss's expression seems to convey.

"Sure," she says. Akagi helps her mount the giant crow, and soon she's staring at his slender, broad back as they soar through the starry skies.

Dongkarasu's feathers are so soft. Silky smooth, even smoother than Togekiss's… Oh, but his hair is fluffier. What if I…

Akagi turns back, and Shirona immediately launches her outstretched hand to her head. "Itch," she explains as if that would resolve everything.

His eyes crinkle. "I see." The wind runs its phantasmal fingers through his hair. Lucky. "Are you warm enough?"

Hell yeah. Wait! But what if I said "no?" Will he… Shirona shakes her head. No, he's not that type of person… or is he?

"Did you eat yet?" Shirona grunts. That sound again, and she tucks her burning ears into her hair.

"Yes." His stomach tells otherwise. Even the crow barks something in its bird language. Akagi squirms under her glare. "S-Soon. I'll eat when I get home."

After what seems like an eternity of peer pressure, Akagi finally relents. He pulls out a wrapped item from his pocket. Shirona's jaw drops as he nibbles on that crunchy Chigo Fruit like a damn Pokemon would.

"That's your snack?" she gasps. "Is your tongue broken?"

Akagi's face is blank. "Snack?"

They finally reach Route 210. And as usual, Akagi insists on accompanying her through the red Torii gates until she's safely at her house.

And before he leaves, the young handyman turns around. "Excuse me, Shirona-sama?" He's doing that stance again, but there's a certain bounce s in his posture instead of the usual stoic decorum.

She waits. He purses his lips. "Ah. No, nevermind." A bow. "Farewell—"

"Oh, just spit it out, Akagi-kun!" Shirona huffs. Grandma is peeking out through the crack of the door. The old lady sees her granddaughter marching over to the young man…

Akagi hesitates. His sleeve rises to his mouth. "If… if it's all right with you, Shirona-sama… I'd like to redeem my ticket."

Shirona's jaw drops as he produces said ticket. "Akagi-kun…" He looks away, but his ears are tingling pink. Warmth oozes down her soles, and she's this close to melting on the ground.

That's when Grandma chooses to burst out the door with a giggling Lisyan on her head. In her hand are two cups of iced Moomoo Milk. "There are seats outside Kannagi Ruins!" exclaims the old lady. "The night is still young, whippersnappers!"

After she overcomes the initial shock of Grandma's scarily-accurate timing, Shirona turns to her gaping companion. "Akagi-kun." She gives him a warm, radiant smile, prompting steam to curl from those giant ears. "It'll be my honor to perform for you."

The jazz performance was a local attraction in Western Tobari, so it was rare to see outsiders within the crowd. However, that evening, two friends happened to stumble across the night of music while on a late food run.

Oba rejoined his friend after hitting up three fried food stands. "Oi, Denzi. You will not believe what they put in here. Noodles! Fried noodles in taiyaki!"

But his friend seemed preoccupied with something else. Oba knew that look. That crease of the brow, signaling tunnel vision-like concentration.

Oba traced that intense gaze. "Oooh." A sloppy grin spread on his face. "Shirona-chan's here too, eh? So you do like girls—"

"Oba, that man beside her."

The grin slips from Oba's face. Denzi wasn't his usual lazy self today. No, he was actually alert. "Isn't he that electrician from yesterday?" Oba muttered. "The one who picked up that ticket?"

But when a strong, dusty breeze blew, knocking off that cap did Oba do a double take. Blue hair. Those pale, sad eyes.

The only thing that didn't fit was that smile.

"Denzi," Oba whispered, the taiyaki set aside. "Isn't that…"

Denzi began to move, but Oba tugged him back. "What happened to him?" the former mumbled. "To think that he's here, of all places… after all this time…

"No doubt about it, Oba. That's Akagi."