She looks around the room. Her mother’s shawl is still draped over the back of the chair by the window. A small ceramic fox—a souvenir from a trip to Inari Shrine when Ichika was seven—sits on the windowsill. Her mother had bought matching ones. Ichika’s fox has a tiny chip on its ear.
She picks up a pen. Her hand is steady.
The screen fades to black. Then, a single chord—electric bass, clean tone, no distortion—plays over the credits. The chord is not complex. It’s just a root, a fifth, and a quiet promise. Seta Ichika - I Don-t Have A Mother Anymore- So...