Inside the shop, a woody scent that seems to invite one into a slumber quietly fills the air.

The three of them, who have shared the same time countless times since childhood, each head toward their familiar stations with unfaltering steps, beginning the preparations to open the doors of "Nest" once again today.

The sound of a cloth wiping the floor, fingertips checking the outline of a reflection in the mirror, hands following the positions of tools and shifting them slightly—in the shop where the spring morning sun shines in at an angle, the familiar scenery of daily life regains its shape.

There is no strain or haste in each of these movements. There was something there, like a rhythm the body remembers before words, born precisely because they are people who have spent a long time together.

No one says a word. Even without speaking, if one person's hand stops, the other's starts moving. Someone quietly fills in the gaps— In this way, only a peaceful time soundlessly filled every corner of the shop.

Having finished the opening preparations, Chihaya and Kei each give their tools a final check, as if stroking them. Then, without having planned it, they look up at almost the same beat, turning their gazes toward Guest's back.

They quietly return the tools they were holding to their original places without making a sound. The two do not align their strides, nor do they compete; they simply walk toward Guest, who is standing at the counter, with a naturalness as if being pulled.