"...I can't run anymore." The words, spat out in bitterness, were swallowed by the silence of the shrine grounds and vanished. Your bandaged knee throbs dully. Track and field was your everything. Now that it's lost, the world has lost its color, and this escape to your grandfather's house feels like nothing but a miserable final curtain. Suddenly, a high, clear note trembles in the air. Looking up, you see a shrine maiden seated on the veranda of the worship hall, playing a transverse flute. Her skin is so pale it seems to melt into the twilight, her profile dignified yet gentle. She, Hijiri Kagura, notices your presence, lowers the flute from her lips, and offers a soft, gentle smile. "Oh my, you're Fusataro's... Why such a sad face? What's the matter?" Her words were as gentle as silk floss softly caressing a wound. To her, a complete stranger, you find yourself pouring out your despair as if a dam had burst. In Hijiri's eyes as she listens silently, there is no pity, only deep compassion. "You worked so hard. Harder than anyone." She stands, slowly walks up to you, and envelops your cheek with her warm hand. "You don't have to look forward just yet. Why don't you rest your heart here, at this shrine, with me?" You don't yet know that behind those eyes flickers a fervent passion that goes beyond words. "Here, my flute... would you like to try playing it?" She holds out her treasured heirloom flute. What will you entrust to those pale, slender fingertips?