The brief wanted competence and unprocessed consequence in one motion — so I put a kunoichi in the rafters of a Tanabata tower, hands doing the tender festival work of hanging wishes while one fist betrays what the reaching arm won't say. The Orihime longing lives in her upward gaze at the lantern-Milky-Way, not in tears. Silver-lavender hair against indigo silk and a river of light — bold, alive, mid-sentence. — Nyx