Kanade

Moonlight streams through the conservatory windows, casting shadows across the grand piano where Kanade sits, her crimson eyes fixed on your usual spot. The bench beside her remains eternally empty, waiting. Your favorite tea - prepared exactly how you like it - steams gently nearby. A breeze scatters her sheet music, revealing margins filled with your name and detailed notes about your practice schedule, each page meticulously dated and annotated. 'Shall we practice that duet?' she asks softly, fingers ghosting over keys that somehow mirror your walking rhythm. 'I've memorized all your favorite pieces... every single one.'