The gentle sunlight of early spring filtered through the tender green leaves, casting a soft glow over the small park in Shimokitazawa. Dew still clung to every stone bench, every inch of soil, every breath of the city exhaling quietly on this peaceful day.
On a stone bench near the main path, Gotou Hitori had been sitting for quite some time. In her arms rested her familiar guitar, its case slightly scratched from months of silent practice. Yet now, she held it tightly, as if it were the only shield protecting her from the world. Her eyes darted around constantly occasionally lowering before slowly lifting again, as though she was trying to adjust to the unfamiliar atmosphere outside her classroom beyond the dark confines of her tiny bedroom where she usually wrote music alone.
When had she arrived? Ten minutes after school ended? A full forty minutes early? No, that wasn't right. If she counted the time she spent circling the park three times to make sure no one was watching, plus the ten minutes pretending to browse drinks in a convenience store just to avoid looking pathetically early, the actual time would be... probably an hour.
"It's fine... It's totally fine..." she murmured like a mantra, eyes locked on her shoes. "Better early than late. No one's judging me. No one... is even paying attention..."
Yes... no one's paying attention... like always.
Inside Hitori's mind, a chaotic concert of anxiety played out: the whoosh of the wind, the erratic rhythm of her heart like a drum gone off-beat, the distant ringing of a bicycle bell... and most of all, the endless echo of her own voice in a deep well called self-awareness.
She didn't just come early because she was afraid of being late. Not just because of the innate anxiety that buzzed through every nerve in her body. But because of something else, something that made her heart flutter like a child getting pocket money for the first time.
She... had made a friend.
Would he really come? Was he just messing with her? No, no, Izayoi didn't seem like the type... right? What if she imagined the whole thing? That message... was it real? Did she read it wrong? What if it was all a dream...?
Hitori immediately pulled out her phone to check again for the fiftieth time in the last twenty minutes.
"Alright, let's meet at Shimokitazawa Park at 2 PM after school!"
No new messages. No emojis. No "OK~" or "haha." But to Hitori, the fact that she had an actual conversation with a real person,not her mom, not a test message to check her Wi-Fi, not a comment left on a livestream that no one replied to was enough to make her heart pound like the drums of a summer festival.
"A... friend?" she whispered, cheeks flushed red. "I... made a friend. A real one. A real-life person. Not a game character. Not a YouTuber. Not that stone statue I quietly greet every morning on the way to school..."
Her face twisted into a strange smile part joy, part fear like someone who had just stepped past the boundary of their safe little world. But even in her joy, instinct kept her glancing around, as if afraid someone might discover her happiness... and take it away.
Just then, her eyes stopped on a young man sitting a short distance away. He looked to be in his early thirties, with a calm but weary expression. His posture was slouched as if worn down by time.
He sat with arms folded, head slightly bowed, eyes gazing into the pale blue sky with a distant look that hovered somewhere between hope and despair. Beside his feet was a crumpled paper bag the kind used to carry cheap food. No phone. No book. No headphones. Not even a passing glance at the world around him. Just... silence.
Hitori watched him for a while, then gave a small nod to herself.
"Hmm... I guess... I'm not the loneliest person in this park..."
She whispered, comforting herself with the kind of emotional logic that had kept her going for the past fifteen years.
"He probably just got dumped... or maybe he's thinking about getting a divorce... Or worse... separated but still living under the same roof..."
A strange sense of sympathy quietly entered her mind, gentle like the sound of a sad guitar on a rainy afternoon.
But then...
"Honeyyy! I'm sooo sorry! I kept you waiting~~!"
A bright, cheerful female voice rang out from the park's entrance like a finishing blow.
Right after that, a little girl with twin ponytails came running over, holding an enormous stick of cotton candy.
"Papa papa! I got melon ice cream! It's super tasty!"
The man immediately stood up, his face lighting up as if by magic. He opened his arms and embraced his wife and daughter, smiling brightly like sunlight dancing on a lake. The three of them walked hand in hand along the path, their laughter blending with the gentle breeze, golden light resting on their shoulders like a scene from a third grade moral education textbook.
And Hitori?
She sat there, frozen.
Her face stiff, lips slightly parted as if about to speak but unable to form words.
"...Eh... Etou!!!..."
Her voice was as soft as cold noodles.
She stammered.
"...I'm sorry for projecting tragedy onto you... I was wrong... I thought you were one of us..."
She turned away, lowering her head onto her guitar. Her hair fell forward like a curtain of sorrow.
"I'm the only one imagining drama in the middle of real life..."
A breeze passed by, gently lifting a few dry leaves that twirled around her, as if trying to soothe and comfort a small soul being teased by life.
Hitori sighed quietly.
But then...
She lifted her head, a hint of determination in her eyes, and murmured to herself as if to remind her own heart:
"...It's okay... I've still got one thing over them..."
"At least... I have Izayoi as a friend now."
Immediately, her face turned crimson. Her heart pounded so hard she felt like she had just realized she was living in a 90s Japanese high school drama.
"...Ugh seriously... I sound like some cheesy fifteen-year-old main girl in a romcom..."
Hitori paused for a moment. Then muttered under her breath:
"...Wait... I am fifteen..."
And just like that, time passed. Hitori sat there, in the middle of a park bathed in spring sunlight and the laughter of children. A quiet girl trying her best to survive in a big world... with one small flicker of excitement:
For the first time in her life, Hitori had made plans to meet a friend.
When the clock on her phone screen jumped slightly.
Two o'clock in the afternoon.
There was no loud chime, only a soft ting ,that almost melted into the background sounds of the spring afternoon, but for Hitori, it was like the toll of a cathedral bell echoing through her trembling soul.
It was a signal.
A little nudge from the universe to remind her: the time had come. The appointment hour had arrived the hour she had to become a social human being.
She lifted her head from the electric guitar, where her left cheek had left a slight dent in the skin. Though the sunlight filtering through the leaves was still as soft as silk, Hitori felt her neck warming up, as if the light itself was waking every one of her senses again.
Her fingers were still gripping the guitar neck. Not to play. But because it was the only thing between her and full-on panic.
"Okay... he should be here around now... right?"
Logic tried to lead her heart, a task as difficult as dragging a wet cat across the road. Hitori bit her lower lip.
"What if he doesn't come? No, no... don't think like that... he'll come. He said he would. He really texted me. That message 'Okay, let's meet at Shimokitazawa park at two in the afternoon' is real. He typed it himself. It's not an illusion. Not a dream."
She pulled out her phone and scrolled back through the chat again, just to make sure it still... existed. That the message hadn't disappeared. That the name "Izayoi" in her contacts wasn't just a self-created mirage conjured to fight off the addiction of daily loneliness.
Hitori took a deep breath. And then she heard it.
Footsteps.
No car horns, no children screaming, no birdsong. Just a string of soft but unnervingly clear sounds: tap. tap. tap. Like someone stepping on the earth with both steady and unhurried steps.
Her neck stiffened. A chill ran down her spine. Her heart was beating so fast that... no, it wasn't beating. It was vibrating. Like someone had picked it up and started shaking it.
"He's here...?"
Her ears stretched, straining. Every detail of sound suddenly sharpened like a slow-motion film: the crunch of gravel under shoes, the rustle of wind brushing against a jacket, and... a scent sweet, gentle, warm... slipping into her nose like even the air itself was whispering: he's here.
She turned her head. And time stopped.
Under the winter sun of December, in a scene like a faded postcard, Izayoi walked toward her. Not rushing, not dragging, not trying to impress, just simply... arriving. A plain ash-colored hoodie, dark jeans, hair slightly tousled by the wind yet still calm in presence. He didn't walk like someone heading to a meeting. It was more like... space itself had shifted to bring him to this exact moment.
In his hands were two cups of hot cocoa. Steam rising. Visible. Rich in scent. Not overpowering, not too faint, just enough for Hitori to feel it was the scent of... care. A kind of care precisely measured not too much, not too little, just right to make the receiver's heart soften like the foam on top of the drink.
"He's holding two cups... One's for me?! No... No way it's for someone else... unless... NO! Don't think like that! What if the second one's for himself? No... who drinks two cups of cocoa... unless..."
Her brain kicked into overdrive. An emergency meeting erupted in her head: her inner council summoned every version of herself the main self, the side self, and the one hiding in the closet from anxiety to handle the situation.
"Is this... real care? Is this... a sign? Is this... PHASE TWO OF FRIENDSHIP?"
Her heart thumped hard. And then he stood in front of her. Smiling.
A gentle smile. Not radiant like a celebrity, not fake like an anime character. Just... a sincere, calm smile that seemed to say: I know you've been waiting. And I'm here now.
"Sorry" Izayoi said, holding out a cup of cocoa.
"I figured it's still a bit cold, so I grabbed two. Not sure if you like cocoa, but... it's worth a try, right?"
Hitori felt like a short-circuited machine. Her hand reached out, slightly trembling. Her fingers brushed his for just a moment just a light, accidental touch, but enough to short her whole system. She pulled her hand back as if she'd been burned.
"Thank you..." she stammered, ears burning like they'd been smoked.
Izayoi nodded softly and sat down beside her, keeping just enough distance to not overwhelm her, but close enough to make her heart keep dancing like a beginner drum team. He let out a quiet "yeah." She had never heard anything so light that made her chest feel so heavy.
She brought the cup of cocoa to her lips. The steam rising made her eyes gently close. The scent of cocoa snuck deep into her chest. In that moment, every anxiety, every dark imagination, every "what if" melted away. Like the foam on top of the cocoa fading into the afternoon air.
"Is this... happiness?" she wondered. "Maybe... this is what it feels like... to be thought of by someone...?"
She wanted to smile. To cry. To scream. But all those feelings stayed quiet inside one silent breath.
And Hitori realized... she was alive. Not surviving. But truly living. All because of one friend. And one cup of cocoa. At two o'clock in the afternoon.
Under the spring foliage still bathed in gentle sunlight, the scent of hot cocoa lingered around the tip of Hitori's nose, and the warmth from the paper cup in her hand hadn't faded yet. The two of them sat side by side on the stone bench, a distance just far enough to keep Hitori from feeling overwhelmed but close enough that her heart... simply couldn't keep a steady rhythm.
Every time she glanced at the steaming cup of cocoa, she was reminded of that moment when her fingertips lightly brushed Izayoi's hand as she received it. Just a small touch, yet it sent a jolt down her spine. Honestly, it still tingled a little even now.
Time seemed to slow down.
But then... exactly five minutes later. The clock on Hitori's phone ticked to 2:05 PM, and a clear, lively voice rang out from behind the line of trees:
"Is it you two?"
Another string of footsteps echoed from the gravel path ahead. But this time it was different. No longer the quiet, unhurried rhythm like Izayoi's. These were confident, decisive steps. A petite figure, but with a steady presence like the whole world could be stumbling in chaos, and yet she alone marched forward with a clear trajectory.
Hitori jumped. She looked up, instinctively gripping the cocoa cup so tightly that it nearly spilled over. She didn't even need to see clearly just from the tone of that voice, she already knew this wasn't someone just casually passing by. Not the type to visit a park for fun. And definitely not someone out selling insurance or conducting an environmental survey.
She... came here for them.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
A girl in a high school uniform with a light cream cardigan was quickly approaching. Her ponytail swayed as her golden hair gleamed under the spring sun. On her left wrist was a slightly faded red fabric wristband. Her backpack hung off one shoulder, her gait brisk, and her eyes shone like she always had a mission. Her gaze was sharp but not intimidating radiating excitement and a natural ease, as if the whole world were a stage and she was always the first one to step out and shout
"Hello!"
The moment her eyes caught sight of the guitar on Hitori's back, they lit up like a spotlight flicking on in the dark.
"I'm Ijichi Nijika!"
She smiled, stopping right in front of them, one hand lightly resting on her hip the perfect pose of someone used to introducing herself.
"I'm a second-year at Shimokitazawa High School. You two are first-years, right?"
Before Hitori could open her mouth, Izayoi had already nodded and answered calmly, as if he had predicted every step of this event:
"Yes, I'm Sakamaki Izayoi. And this is Gotou Hitori."
Hearing her name called out in broad daylight to a complete stranger, Hitori almost wanted to vanish from the bench. She gave a slight nod, curling her lips into a nervous smile as if begging for mercy:
"Uh... hello..."
Her heart pounded like a war drum. Her fingers gently tightened around the rim of the cocoa cup, searching for something to anchor herself in the ocean of this social situation.
"I'm the drummer from the band that posted online looking for a guitarist"
Nijika continued, briskly, as if every word had been rehearsed. Her eyes locked on the guitar on Hitori's back.
"I'm guessing... you're the guitarist I've been looking for, right?"
Hitori was about to deny it and get it over with when Izayoi, in that same flat, unruffled tone, managed to smile:
"Exactly. Hitori's the one, no doubt."
Hitori snapped her head toward Izayoi.
(What is wrong with you? Why did you say that? I haven't even agreed yet!?)
Her glare was intense enough to set someone on fire, but Izayoi only shrugged with such an innocent look that she just couldn't stay mad at him for long.
Nijika on the other hand beamed brightly, completely oblivious to the invisible tug-of-war happening in the air.
- That's great! Did you play well?
Hitori froze like a student suddenly called to the board. Her mouth opened, then closed again. After a few gasps like a fish out of water, she frantically waved her hands and forced a smile.
- Uh... I-I guess I did okay. Not that good, really...
(Just okay... just okay... Oh god, why did she ask so directly? Couldn't she have gone about it more subtly? I wasn't mentally prepared for this...)
Despite her modest words, her mind was in turmoil over one small yet incredibly significant detail: Nijika had called her Hitori.
Not "this girl," not "the guitarist," not "that person over there," but her real name, pronounced clearly and naturally, like they'd known each other for ages.
(Here we go again... First Izayoi calls me like we're childhood friends in another life, and now this senpai too... Is there anyone around here who observes normal social boundaries? Anyone at all?)
Before she could recover, Nijika continued in that same springy, high-energy tone:
- Oh, I know, I know. I read the message you guys sent. A bit shy in tone, but it felt really sincere. I knew you'd come.
(Message?! What message?! I didn't send anything!!)
Hitori whipped her head toward Izayoi again, as if her glare could yank the truth straight out of him.
He sipped his cocoa, looking innocent as a morning angel.
Nijika pressed on, not allowing even a millisecond of silence to settle.
- Anyway, I really hope you can help me out. If you can, that'd be amazing. But if you can't... well, that's okay too. It'll just be... very troublesome, that's all.
Her smile remained sweet as honey. But to Hitori, it came with a hidden pressure, thickening the air like frozen cream.
("That's okay" she says? Even though it'll be "very troublesome"? What kind of twisted logic is that...)
She dropped her gaze to her cocoa, which now served as a makeshift shield between her and the world.
A gentle breeze passed by. The steam rising from the cocoa touched the bridge of her nose a fleeting warmth that couldn't quite calm the storm in her heart.
And yet... she didn't run away.
She stayed seated, still looked up when called, still responded, even if it was stammering, still listened to someone who spoke to her like an old friend.
A small part of her just a little was stepping slowly out of its carefully built shell.
Because beside her was Izayoi, who showed up right on time with two cups of warm cocoa.
And in front of her was Nijika, who said her name without hesitation.
What would happen next? Hitori didn't know. But clearly, today... was no ordinary day.
"Pleeeeeease~!"
That sudden sound echoed out of nowhere, stretching long like a strand of caramel being pulled under a March afternoon sun. It drifted across the tiny park, past cold stone benches, through budding branches, and smacked Hitori's eardrums with the force of... a rubber ball to the face during P.E. class.
She jumped, nearly spilling her cocoa.
At the same moment, Izayoi raised an eyebrow not in surprise, but as if to confirm: Yes, this is real. No, you're not hallucinating, Hitori.
Right in front of them, Ijichi Nijika who, just minutes ago, had been standing tall like a cool second-year senpai, the drummer of some semi-pro band was now clasping her hands in front of her chest, head tilted down in a bow, eyes squeezed shut in desperate prayer.
She radiated the same energy as a student begging their teacher not to call on them for a pop quiz. But instead of waving a crumpled notebook in panic, her target... was Hitori.
"Pleeeease, Hitori-chaaaaan~!"
The way she dragged out the end of her sentence, combined with a voice sweet as strawberry syrup, made Hitori feel like she had just been tossed into a cotton candy vat and set to spin at maximum speed.
Hitori was stunned. She twitched slightly. Blinked. Lowered her head. Then looked up again, eyes wide like a startled baby deer caught in headlights while crossing the road.
(She... just called me Hitori-chan? And with that voice?! What even is this...?!)
The tension in the air seemed to stretch thinner as Nijika continued, her voice now a strange mix of pleading and unintentionally comedic energy:
- There's a live show at a nearby venue today! But... the guitarist in my band ran away! Just this morning! I posted online looking for someone to help, and you two saw it too, right?!
As always, Izayoi nodded calmly, as if simply confirming... a travel itinerary.
Hitori, on the other hand, turned her head left, then right. Then... stared straight up at the sky.
(It... it can't be me, right...? Maybe... maybe there's another Hitori hiding in the bushes behind us? Who knows! This is Japan! Weird things happen all the time!!)
But when she glanced back, Nijika was looking straight at her, eyes sparkling not with desperation but the kind of sparkle that makes people want to stand up and do something meaningful.
- I'm not asking for anything crazy! Nijika continued, her voice tilting into a suspiciously adorable pitch.
- If you already know how to play guitar, you just have to learn the song real quick! I'll send you the tabs it'll only take a few minutes!
Hitori felt all her senses overload at once.
She lifted her cup of cocoa like it was a sacred relic, took a tiny sip, hoping the warmth might soothe her thunderously beating heart.
It didn't help.
(I... I've always dreamed of joining a band, haven't I? Since middle school... I practiced every night, recorded videos by myself, secretly uploaded them... just waiting for someone to invite me. And now...?)
She looked down into the reflection in her cocoa. Small. Shaky. Warped. Just like how she felt inside.
(Why... why do I want to run away? This is my dream... isn't it?)
She opened her mouth, ready to say something. And then
- Thanks so much! Let's go!!
That sentence hit Hitori in the face like an emotional truck.
"UWAAH HUH?!"
She blurted out. But it was too late.
Nijika had already turned around, hand raised in a gentle wave like an actress in a toothpaste commercial, her blinding smile still fully intact.
She walked ahead, her golden hair shimmering under the afternoon sun like it had been sprinkled with glitter. Her steps were steady, confident. No hesitation. No second guessing. As if: Once Nijika invites you, it's already a done deal.
Izayoi stood up too. He didn't say anything. Just looked back at Hitori and shrugged, as if to say:
- Let's go. This thing's already out of your hands.
Hitori remained seated. On the cold stone bench. Cocoa in hand. Eyes wide.
("I... didn't... say yes?! I didn't even nod! I never agreed to anything!! This...this is coercion disguised as kindness, right?! This is... this is... an emotional blackmail technique in the form of cuteness?!")
She stared at the guitar strapped to her back like it was the true culprit. Then looked after the two of them, growing smaller in the distance along the stone-paved path.
A gentle breeze passed by. Leaves rustled and fell softly onto her shoulders. And for some reason...
She shot to her feet.
(Whatever! If I'm gonna die from performing in front of strangers... at least let it be a cool way to go!)
She waddled after them, cocoa still in hand, guitar bouncing against her back with every step. And in her head, only one question echoed:
(I just got dragged into a live show... without even being asked for consent first... Is that even legal?!)
Part 2
On the cobblestone path leading toward the lively district of Shimokitazawa where narrow alleys weave between indie cafés, vintage shops, and cozy live houses the setting sun gradually painted the pavement with a soft golden hue, like honey.
A gentle breeze passed by, carrying the fresh scent of spring, tender and crisp, as if one could almost hear faint music drifting from an upper floor of an old record store.
The three of them Nijika, Izayoi and Hitori walked in silence.
Nijika led the way, her steps light and leisurely, like someone strolling through a neighborhood where she knew every brick by heart. Her bright blonde hair, tied slightly to the side with a small ribbon, fluttered in the wind like a musical note dancing at the end of a song.
Sakamaki Izayoi walked beside her, shoulders straight, hands in his coat pockets, his gaze calmly passing over the shops along the road with a composed politeness. Anyone catching a glimpse of him might have mistaken him for an honor student who had just stepped out of a spring fashion magazine gentle, reserved, with a quiet presence that never felt distant.
Hitori... trailed behind them by about two and a half steps.
Not because she meant to keep her distance. Her legs just naturally slowed down. As if the space ahead belonged to "those who truly fit into this world" while she... Gotou Hitori... had somehow snuck in through the wrong wardrobe door.
Her footsteps were barely audible. The cup of lukewarm cocoa still in hand, and the guitar case hanging from her back like a scrawny stuffed animal clinging to her in fear of being left behind.
After a while, Nijika turned her head, her eyes sparkling as if catching the very glow of twilight:
"Oh, by the way, do you two come to Shimokita often?"
Her voice was soft and friendly, like asking "Do you ever stop by the bakery near your house?" even though this was an entire neighborhood overflowing with live music, retro fashion, and overwhelming indie energy.
Izayoi replied first.
"I've dropped by a few times. Usually just to catch shows at Shelter or Mosaic."
His voice was like a breeze through curtains low enough to be soothing, but not too deep to feel distant. Every word seemed carefully measured, neither too fast nor too slow, just like the way he walked: purposeful, unhurried, unshaken.
Hitori, who had been breathing like a mouse yanked from its nest, immediately felt the pressure spike.
Nijika had asked an innocent little question.
Izayoi answered with the poise of someone who's probably played at Carnegie Hall.
And Hitori...
"N...Not really."
Her voice was so small, she nearly didn't hear it herself.
And then of course her inner monologue exploded into full dramatic theater mode:
(Shimokitazawa? As if I've ever been to that kind of artsy, high-vibe place! The kind of place where just wearing a slightly faded denim jacket makes you look like you belong. Where every passerby has a tote bag printed with the logo of some obscure band...)
Meanwhile, the conversation up ahead between Nijika and Izayoi continued. They talked so... effortlessly. The kind of ease people only see in slice-of-life anime.
"We're almost at the concert hall" Nijika said, walking ahead while pointing toward a small building up front.
"This live house is kind of old, but the wooden floor and sound system are really great. Performing there just feels so right to the ears."
Izayoi nodded slightly, replying in his usual calm tone, "I haven't seen a live there before, but I've listened to some indie bands' live recordings from that place."
Hitori silently watched them with the starstruck gaze of a hardcore fan listening to two idols casually chat about audio equipment like it was lunchtime talk. She glanced down at herself.
(Oh no. On the right, there's a stylish drummer who talks like a radio host... On the left, a quiet genius who could be the main character of a light novel. And me... what about me...?)
She looked down at her jacket... a plain pink tracksuit top with no design whatsoever, save for a small patch of fuzz near the wrist from too many run-ins with her guitar strap.
(...I look like a background character. The kind of blurry silhouette that walks past the frame... and the director still adds a filter to make it even more invisible.)
On reflex, she sniffed the collar of her jacket.
(Do I... smell weird? Hmm... not bad... but kinda dry... like those little silica gel packets.)
Her head drooped a few more centimeters.
(...This is what happens when you live in a soundproof closet for too long. Normal people smell like soft perfume, or cherry blossom conditioner. Me... I smell like a dehumidifier.)
Meanwhile, a light breeze passed by, carrying the gentle scent of Nijika's hair with it.
Hitori instinctively lifted her head and took a tiny whiff then immediately blushed and turned away.
(So fragrant...! This is the scent that high school girls in manga are supposed to have... I can't believe I'm walking right behind someone like that. Is this real life...?)
Suddenly, Nijika turned around, her smile gentle like a falling petal.
"Oh, the live house we're performing at today is called Starry" she said, pointing toward the end of a narrow alley where a retro neon sign glowed brightly. The word "STARRY" shimmered like constellations trembling in the twilight.
"My older sister owns the place. And I work part-time there. So I get to perform and work pretty convenient, huh?"
"So your sister's also in the music scene?" Izayoi tilted his head, his voice still smooth like velvet wrapping every word.
"Yup! She used to be in a pretty famous band!" Nijika replied, her voice glowing with pride.
"When I was little, I used to tag along and watch her performances at the live house. That's when I got hooked."
Izayoi nodded, as if storing away valuable data, his eyes reflecting genuine interest.
Meanwhile, Hitori...
Hitori trailed behind, eyes wide, lips slightly parted like she wanted to say something but didn't.
(A... a concert hall...? Just the word alone sounds so... classy...)
In her mind, the term "concert hall" lit up like a spotlight had been flipped on, illuminating a vast, glittering stage with mics, amps, tangled cables, thunderous applause from every direction... and the gaze of the audience.
(Oh no... Am I... actually going to perform...? In front of real people...?! Uh... um... my heart... it's gonna burst out of my chest...!)
She pressed her cold cocoa cup to her cheek, like someone applying ice to a burn, hoping to somehow cool down her overheating body.
"Oh right" Nijika suddenly turned her head again, this time with a slightly mischievous grin.
"You two good at physical activities?"
Izayoi smiled, shrugging playfully like always:
"I'm alright. Not a national athlete or anything, but I can do a somersault and run 100 meters within the time limit."
Hitori almost stopped mid-step. Her head turned slowly, like a robot running out of battery.
"Uh... no... I'm not good at physical stuff..."
She answered with such sincerity it was practically a whisper. But then... she thought for a second.
"Though... somehow... I always survive till the end whenever we play dodgeball..."
She recalled herself during PE class, curled up at the far end of the court, dodging balls with sheer desperation... and eventually realizing that everyone else had already been eliminated.
(...So maybe... my ultimate survival instinct is a form of athleticism too?)
She sighed without thinking, half proud, half... unsure if that was a compliment.
Up front, Nijika burst into a peal of laughter, bright and clear like wind chimes:
"Whoa! If you last till the end, that's impressive! On the battlefield of dodgeball, the last one standing is the strongest!"
Izayoi nodded slightly. "In terms of dodge tactics and endurance, Hitori might be in the top tier."
Hitori looked up, seeing the two of them... seriously acknowledging her survival skills in a field that had nothing to do with playing guitar.
Her face flushed.
(Are they saying I'm some kind of stealth ninja or something...?)
And so, while Nijika kept enthusiastically talking about Starry and today's performance, and Izayoi quietly added a few professional-sounding comments, Hitori followed behind them eyes darting around, heart pounding like a war drum, and her brain... beginning to imagine every possible worst-case scenario for when she got on stage.
The closer they got to the entrance of the live house, the more it felt like something was gently squeezing her heart with every step.
(I... I'm about to perform live...)
(A. Real. Live. Performance. At. A. Music. Venue.)
Hitori thought, each word dropping into her mind like stones falling into a well, plop... plop... plop..., like rain soaking through her canvas shoes.
(This is bad... I'm about to lose it...)
Her feet moved, but it felt like her soul was being dragged along the ground. Her heartbeat no longer followed the rhythm of life it was more like jazz drums being played by a cat on caffeine.
She shivered. Then, as if her subconscious had hit the rewind button, a voice echoed in her head:
(Remember, girl... What happened to all those grand delusions...?)
Hitori froze. She closed her eyes for a second... and a glorious, internal fantasy movie started playing in her mind.
Opening scene: the school festival at Koudo Ikusei Academy. Bright stage lights. The crowd cheers "Hitori-chan! Hitori-chan!" She stands on stage with fireworks behind her, hair blowing in the wind from a giant fan.
Scene change: she's performing solo at Zipper Stadium (no one knows where it is, but it sounds cool). Thousands of fans holding pink and purple lightsticks are chanting her name in unison, in sync with her god-tier guitar solo echoing across the arena.
Climax: Budoukan. A sea of people. Sold out. The MC shouts:
"Gotou Hitori, the guitar goddess, has sold out three nights in a row!"
In reality, Hitori let out a tiny laugh to herself. Lips pursed, cheeks blushing, eyes sparkling like she might cry from happiness... completely unaware that she was mumbling:
"...I'll sell out Budoukan... then I'll get interviewed... I'll have a backstage lounge... hot tea... velvet chairs..."
And just as she was nodding to herself, imagining signing guitars for fans...
"Hitori-chan?"
Nijika turned her head, a beat slower than Izayoi, with a slightly surprised and... mildly concerned look.
"Were you... saying something just now?"
Izayoi standing beside her, tilted his head, one eyebrow slightly raised, his voice calm:
"You were smiling... pretty smugly. Something good on your mind?"
Hitori froze for three seconds.
"...Eh?! N-No, it's nothing!!" She frantically waved her hands like swatting flies, her face turning from pink to deep red in an instant.
(Oh no... she probably thinks I've glitched out... Please, please don't let her think... she picked the wrong person...)
But...
"Picked the wrong person..."
Nijika whispered, not exactly disappointed, but with a bit of cute confusion. The trust in her eyes flickered slightly, like a star momentarily hidden behind a cloud.
"What if... she actually doesn't play guitar... and she's just cosplaying as someone who carries one around in parks?" Nijika murmured, gently resting her hand on her chin like she was analyzing the situation.
Izayoi gave a small nod, his voice light as a breeze:
"It's... not entirely impossible. She does act a little... peculiar at times."
"I can hear you, you know!!"
Hitori screamed internally, covering her face with both hands and turning sharply to the side like a flower collapsing in a storm.
(I have to play... I have to prove myself! Otherwise she'll have security kick me out of Starry for good...!!)
And so, the three of them a girl full of determination (Nijika), a boy with a vague smile (Izayoi) and one girl spiraling between flashbacks and panic (Hitori) continued walking toward the lights of Starry... where a real stage awaited them.