Kenta, Tetsuji Tamayama, a classically trained pianist, loses his gig with the orchestra and drifts into a drunken blur at a bar. He wakes up the next morning not back in the club, but inside a bookstore that seems to float beyond the ordinary—an otherworldly place in heaven. The bookstore’s gentle owner lays out the rules of this afterlife: people live to be 100, and those who die before that age spend the rest of their time in heaven before they are reborn on earth. The revelation is calm, almost routine, and it underscores a quiet truth about the way this world (and the next) keep turning.
In this serene, improbable heaven, Kenta meets Shoko, Yūko Takeuchi, a pianist he had long admired on earth. Their encounter is warm and immediate, a spark that suggests fate might be kinder here. The two slowly fuse their talents as they begin to work on a special composition that Shoko had started during her life, an unfinished piece that suddenly feels possible again in this new rent of time. The collaboration is not just musical; it becomes a bridge between past and present, memory and aspiration, as if heaven itself were guiding their hands.
Meanwhile, back on earth, a thread of memory tugs at Shoko’s family. Natsuko—the pianist’s niece and, like Shoko, portrayed by Yūko Takeuchi—is determined to revive a long-silenced fireworks display that had ended twelve years ago. This restoration project has personal stakes: Shoko had once been engaged to Takimoto, a gifted fireworks maker whose craft and Shoko’s music once shared a powerful, almost magical harmony. A devastating firework accident damaged Shoko’s hearing, wounding their relationship and ultimately leading to her death. The old wounds color Natsuko’s mission, and the longing to bring beauty back to the night sky drives much of what follows.
Natsuko champions a revival that hinges on Takimoto, a talented artist who must confront painful memories to craft something new. Takimoto, played by Teruyuki Kagawa, finds himself resistant at first, wary of reopening old wounds and of the possibility that history will repeat itself. Yet the project remains compelling, a test of whether art can heal what time has not fully mended.
As the fireworks finally ignite the sky, the coveted "loving fireworks" appear at last—an effect born of Takimoto’s skill and the lingering inspiration from Shoko’s unfinished work. Back on earth, Kenta returns and performs Shoko’s now-completed composition to accompany the dazzling display, a tender moment that ties the two worlds together. Natsuko and Kenta meet again during the spectacle; she asks how he knows the piece, and he answers that he has met “her”—a hint at the intertwined fates that bind them across lives. The moment is quiet, and the film closes on a shared, unforced laugh as the credits roll, leaving a sense of closure that feels earned and gently hopeful.
