That afternoon finally came.
At home, while idly playing with his synthesizer, Ishikawa Hayabusa received a LINE message from Nijika.
"Do you have time to come to STARRY and discuss the setlist and arrangements for the show?"
He replied: "On my way."
But this time, after Ishikawa arrived, and even after Ryo showed up right on the dot, Kita was still nowhere to be seen.
No one expected that their meeting earlier that morning would be the last time they saw Kita Ikuyo before the performance.
Saturday passed, Sunday came.
Kita Ikuyo still didn't appear at STARRY. She didn't even reply to LINE.
It was as if she had vanished, leaving behind only the faint shadow of her presence in the band's LINE group chat.
"Namu…"Ryo clasped her hands together and silently offered a prayer for the missing member.
As for Nijika—normally cheerful and lively—she sat quietly on the table, not showing a trace of gloom, but not smiling either.
She radiated the helplessness of someone who had tripped and fallen just as they'd begun walking a new path.
But only for a moment. Then she raised her voice again, energetic as ever."Kita-chan might have something going on. Let's start the meeting."
But Ishikawa Hayabusa didn't simply go along with her words. As soon as she finished speaking, he stepped in with reassurance."Don't stress so much, Nijika. Tomorrow I'll ask around in class and see what's up."
Nijika turned toward Ishikawa. Of all of them, he was the only one whose expression remained calm from beginning to end, as if no negative emotions could cling to him.
"Tense? Not at all. I'm fine, really."She waved her hand and smiled, denying what he said. But still, she accepted his help."In that case, Hayabusa-kun, I'll leave it to you."
"Mm."
After that, the three of them discussed songs for the performance, stage details, and even MC banter.
When Monday came, Ishikawa Hayabusa was genuinely curious about what was really going on with Kita Ikuyo.
Had she actually run away? Or had something happened to her?
And if she saw him—what would she say?
That morning, he didn't bother looking for Gotoh Hitori. He hurried straight to school.
Yet, about ten steps behind him, Gotoh Hitori stopped. Her hesitant footsteps came to a halt. The expectant light in her blue eyes slowly faded to calm resignation as she lowered her gaze to the ground.
Inside the classroom, Ishikawa scanned the room. Kita wasn't there.
He didn't rush to ask anyone. Instead, he casually sat down at his desk, unfazed by the suffocating atmosphere of the class that seemed determined to ignore his existence.
He picked up one of the textbooks he'd bought with Nijika and the others that day. He ran his hand across the real, textured paper—but couldn't muster much interest in actually reading.
Kita Ikuyo didn't show up until just before class started.
She walked in, her usual bright smile gone. Even when greeting her friends, she could only manage a forced, painful grin.
When she sat down, she sneaked a guilty glance at Ishikawa, as if she'd done something wrong. But their eyes met unexpectedly. She flinched, startled, then hurriedly tried to act natural, shoving her bag into the desk drawer.
Ishikawa, though, already knew why.
He'd noticed the heavier bandages on her hand. And faint, almost invisible dark circles under her eyes, barely hidden by makeup.
She tried to conceal it, but such things couldn't escape the gaze of a pervert.
Idiot… He knew bass was harder on the hands than guitar, but it wasn't so easy to cut up your fingers like that. To get herself into this condition, she must have pushed herself painfully hard.
When the break came, Ishikawa pulled out his phone, sent a LINE message to Kita—who had been pretending to play dead—and then walked out.
He made his way up to the rooftop. Hardly anyone came up here during breaks.
The school he attended was considered below average in ranking.
Its philosophy was "happy learning, brilliant living"—a focus on enjoying student life lightly, though academics weren't ignored completely.
The school environment reflected that philosophy—clean and pleasant.
The rooftop was wide, surrounded by freshly painted safety fences. The rough granite reflected a faint glimmer of sunlight. In the center flower bed, several evergreen shrubs grew vibrant and strong.
Ishikawa waited a long while before hurried footsteps approached from the stairwell.
Kita Ikuyo had never blocked messages from the band group.
But whenever she saw one from them, she immediately shut off her phone screen.
She had watched their messages shift—from asking when she'd come, to wondering why she hadn't, and finally, to worry.
It made her feel like she'd committed an unforgivable sin.
And yet, with her guitar in hand, she couldn't play a single proper note. She'd watched countless tutorial videos, practiced endlessly, but felt no progress at all.
Worse, she'd ended up injuring the very hands her senpai had warned her to protect.
By Saturday afternoon, she hadn't even dared to face them.
And when Monday came, she couldn't imagine what expression Ishikawa would make when he saw her. She had even thought about skipping school altogether.
But what had to be faced could not be avoided.
When she got his LINE message during break, she braced herself, climbed to the rooftop, and prepared to confess everything to Ishikawa Hayabusa.
She hoped he could explain things to the two senpai for her.
Panting slightly as she stepped onto the rooftop, Kita gathered her courage, ready to blurt it all out in one go.
"I'm sorry, actually I—"
But before she could finish, Ishikawa cut her off.
With a faint smile, he said:"Kita Ikuyo, you don't want the senpai to find out you can't play guitar, do you?"
Kita froze on the spot.
Kita Ikuyo had always thought her life was terribly dull.
Her grades were decent, her athletic ability not bad, and she had plenty of friends. Everything about her hovered squarely in the middle.
It was as if she'd been shaped by society, school, and peers into a perfectly ordinary person.
She always did what was appropriate. What was expected.
Just another face in the endless sea of high school girls.
She didn't even have a single skill she could call her own.
That was why, the moment she saw Ryo-senpai performing on the street, she'd been struck by her individuality, her uncompromising selfhood.
And so, she had wanted to join a band. To try to change herself.
But… maybe some things really were only fantasies.
Back at her desk, she didn't know whether she felt relieved or simply defeated.
Earlier, Ishikawa had asked her to handle two small, seemingly trivial favors.
She hadn't understood them fully, but since he'd helped explain things to the senpai on her behalf, she agreed.
After class ended, thinking back on what Ishikawa had asked her to do, she suddenly realized something.
In the classroom, an atmosphere of collective hostility seemed to be quietly taking shape around one person—ostracism brewing beneath the surface.
But the school year had only just begun. How could this already be happening?
Lately she had been so preoccupied with practice and thoughts of Ryo-senpai that she hadn't noticed.
But Ishikawa must have been perfectly aware.
If things continued like this, it could get ugly.
So then—why had he asked her…
"In class, don't speak up for me."