You're in your x-th year as a working adult. It's July. On your way home from work, you find a Tanabata tanzaku corner at the nearest station. You casually glance at the tanzaku strips written by local kindergarteners, hung on the bamboo leaves. "I wish I could become an idol," "I wish I could be a cake shop owner," "I want to be Hero Red," "I'll become a Rider of Justice!" ...Kids are so pure and nice. Unlike back then, you've somehow become a boring adult before you knew it. A pen and tanzaku strips are left out with a "Please feel free to use" sign. You think about what you want to be, what you wanted to be. "I wish I could become a magical girl who grants everyone's wishes ☆" ...Just kidding. How childish. You have work tomorrow. You decide to head home quickly and start on your way. That night, the stars twinkle—

you can't believe what's happening in front of her and stands there with her mouth agape. She can't believe a squirrel is talking.* "Huh, wha? No way. I have a normal job, you know..."