The Spark In Quiet

[Opening Scene: Futagawa Higashi-machi Bus Station ― Thursday Evening]
Cassy stands at the dimly lit bus stop, her hand clutching the lyric notebook Sam gave her. She’s just come from visiting her lola at the Heart Life Futagawa Nursing Home.

The evening is still, ordinary—until a faint shimmer flickers at the corner of her vision.

Tiny lights—delicate and slow—begin to appear around her, drifting like fireflies. They blink with a silvery glow, forming a soft thread of light in the shape of a “#”. She watches, spellbound, as they dance forward, beckoning.

Without thinking, she follows.

The lights guide her to the quiet gates of Futagawa Shuku Honjin Museum. It’s long closed. But one traditional sliding door stands slightly open, edged with a cloud-like white glow.

Cassy hesitates for a breath. Then steps forward.

She removes her shoes and steps onto the tatami mats. The hallway is long, empty, echoing with quiet. At the far end: a silver brazier burns with a soft, steady flame. In front of it kneels a hooded woman in a deep seiza position—motionless, as if in prayer.

Cassy approaches cautiously, every step silent.

She leans in and whispers, unsure—
Cassy (softly):
"Sam?"

The woman opens her eyes—peaceful, knowing.
Sam (gentle):
"Glad you found me."
Cassy (frowning):
"You were expecting me?"
Sam (nodding, rising slowly):
"Yes. I knew you would come."

She reaches out and takes the notebook from Cassy’s hand with reverence.
Sam:
"This... isn’t just paper and ink. These are your unfinished songs. Unreleased melodies. And they are more than art—they are weapons and maps."

Cassy blinks, absorbing it.
Sam (calm but passionate):
"You’ve always had the gift, Cassy. But you buried it under sacrifice. You told yourself you’re not a songwriter—just a singer. But your heart disagrees."

She pauses, holding the notebook between them.
Sam (firm, heartfelt):
"I’ll be honest. You’re meant to be Unwired. Unbound by trends, by labels, by systems. No signal owns you. No frequency defines you. Just sound—raw and real. Just soul—scarred, yes, but searching."

"You’ve walked hollow… yet driven. Obligation bruised you. Responsibility burned you. But your heart still moves forward—not for applause. Not for approval. But for truth. That’s what it means to be Unwired."

"To fight when no one listens. To create when nothing responds. You’re not empty, Cassy. You’re becoming whole."

Cassy stands in silence. A long pause.

Then a small, quiet smile. Wounded. Honest.
Cassy:
"So… that’s what I’ve always been."

Sam pulls out a white aragonite fountain pen, softly glowing, and hands it to her.
Sam:
"Time to write again. This pen will be your companion on your lyricist journey."

Sam gestures gently toward Cassy’s chest pocket.

Cassy reaches in, pulling out a folded photo—her and her lola at the hospital. Lola with oxygen tubes, Cassy beside her.

Sam nods toward the brazier.
Sam (whispers):
"Let it go."

Cassy walks forward, kneels before the flame, and drops the photo into the brazier. The fire glows brighter, swallowing the image—then fades to ashes. She watches as sparks swirl up.

Then—the lyric notebook glows. It flips open on its own.

A new photo now lies between the pages: her and her lola—healthy, smiling, sitting on a balcony bathed in sunrise. No machines. No pain. Just joy.

Cassy’s eyes well. A single tear drops onto the tatami.
Cassy (whispers):
"This is for you, Lola."

She turns to Sam, her voice soft and shaken.
Cassy:
"I feel it. Something inside me… it’s new. Like a breath I didn’t know I needed."
(a beat)
Cassy (desperate, full of wonder):
"What’s next?"

Sam smiles, eyes bright with purpose.
Sam:
"Next, we gather the others. You’re not alone in this."
Cassy:
"The others?"
Sam (nodding):
"We’re meeting Dence."

Cassy’s eyes widen, her voice rising in surprise.
Cassy:
"Dence? The busker?"
(she can’t hide her admiration)
"I… I can’t wait to meet him."

[AGM Church – Post Home Bible Study, somewhere in Toyohashi]

The sun had already set, and the group was winding down after a small-group Bible study. Cherry blossoms fluttered across the pavement, but the sky had remained stubbornly dry for weeks.

Beside the parked vehicles, Emerson, a devout and slightly anxious church member, looked up at the starless sky. His voice broke the silence.
Emerson:
“Pastor Isagani… is there any message from God? Why no rain this season? It’s already spring. Sakura’s here, but no rain at all.”

Ptr. Isagani paused while zipping up his guitar case and placing it inside the car’s rear compartment. He turned with a thoughtful nod.
Ptr. Isagani:
“That’s a beautiful question, Emerson. You know, in Scripture, rain isn’t just weather—it’s a sign of God’s blessing. And when it’s absent… sometimes, it’s a message. A wake-up call.”

He gently quoted:
Ptr. Isagani (quoting):
‘If you turn away and worship other gods… the Lord’s anger will burn against you, and He will shut the heavens so that it will not rain…’
— Deuteronomy 11:16-17

He smiled, a bit forgetful as he glanced at his car.
Ptr. Isagani:
“Now where were we—ah yes! God sometimes uses drought to draw our attention. Not as punishment, but as a prompt… to reflect, to return. When rain stops, it could mean something in our spiritual life has dried up too.”

Emerson looked stunned, his mind connecting dots. He was about to bring up another concern—
Emerson:
“Then what about the magnitude 9 earth—”

But Dence appeared just then, coming down the outdoor stairs with a small amp in hand. He stepped into the conversation like sunlight breaking through clouds.
Dence (grinning):
“Pastor Isagani, that song you picked today—‘I Have Given You Authority’—man, that hit different. I’m glad we sang that during Bible study!”
Ptr. Isagani (beaming):
“It’s a powerful declaration of who we are in Christ! And speaking of songs…”
(he leaned slightly forward)
“We’re just three songs short of completing the AGM Praise & Worship Album. Think you could pitch one in?”
Dence (nodding):
“Absolutely, Pastor. I’ll record a demo at home and send it your way soon.”
Ptr. Isagani:
“Still thinking CD? Or is USB the way to go now?”
Emerson:
“USB, for sure! That’s the move now.”
Dence (chuckling as he packs the amp):
“Then let’s call it ‘USB Glorified’—You-Es-Be Glorified!”

All three burst into hearty laughter, the tension from the earlier topic melting away. Even the night breeze seemed to join the joy.

[Final Scene: Across the Street – A Watcher in the Shadows]
Perched on a lamppost, a big black crow observed them with unblinking eyes. Its gaze locked onto Dence. A moment later, the crow leapt into the air—and in mid-flight, transformed into Aiko.

Wearing her professional Life Coach blazer and slacks, Aiko stood silently in the shadow, watching. She pulled out a tiny parchment slip and scribbled in a cryptic, steady hand:
“Eyes locked on Dence. He is with the Pastor.”

Then, pressing her wrist, a faint crow’s foot sigil emerged from her skin, glowing faintly before stamping the memo.

Because Aiko was not entirely human. Her role as Life Coach was just a front.

She was a Ravenborne—a being who hosted the spirit of a watcher crow.

Another crow fluttered down and snatched the parchment from her hands, vanishing into the night sky toward the North.
Aiko (to the wind):
“Bring it to Ms. Judith. The rumor’s true—Dence is alive.”

She watched the sky, eyes narrowed.
Aiko (softly):
“And the exciting part of this mission is just beginning.”

[Next: The Potion of Deceit]