"Please, come out already!"Nijika pressed her hands against a burnable trash bin and called into it with a desperate cry.
"The show's about to start!"
Anyone watching this scene would feel sorry for the cute girl begging like this—it was obvious something was wrong.
But then, from inside the trash bin came a trembling voice, on the verge of tears."I–I really can't do it after all..."
Clearly, the one hiding inside had an even bigger problem.
"Well, nothing we can do—it is a band we threw together at the last minute."Nijika looked resigned, hiding her hands behind her back and smiling lightly as she tried to comfort Goto Hitori.
"I'm not that great at playing either," she admitted. To be honest, she wasn't expecting much from the performance—she only hoped they could get through the set without falling apart.
Ryo, however, stood with her hands on her hips, smug and confident."Speak for yourselves. I'm great at playing."
Inside the trash bin, Goto let out a broken laugh, like her sanity was slipping."Even the only thing I thought I could be proud of is useless... I shouldn't exist... I'm just a water flea, a water flea..."
Seeing the situation spiraling, Nijika cried out in exasperation."Anyway, just come out of there already! Don't run away from reality."
Her voice was tight with frustration, almost breaking apart, yet she still spoke softly, as if afraid to raise her voice too much.
Meanwhile, Ishikawa Hayabusa was in the men's bathroom, holding a bag and firing off messages on his phone.
"Kita-san, we've got a problem. Come help."
"I'm not falling for that."
Kita Ikuyo's LINE reply carried the tone of someone who saw right through him.
Ishikawa Hayabusa: "Then I have no choice."Kita Ikuyo: "Mm."Ishikawa Hayabusa: "I'll just upload your apology video online, buy a bunch of ad space, and make sure everyone sees it."
The message was read instantly. A second later:
Kita Ikuyo: "I'LL KILL YOU!!"
Hayabusa calmly tapped out another message:
"We're on at 18:00. I don't need to explain what'll happen if you don't show, right? And I wasn't lying about the problem—if you come apologize before we finish, everyone will probably forgive you. Otherwise, you'll be cursed with resentment for life."
He waited two minutes with no reply, then changed into his stage clothes. As he walked through the live house lobby, a chorus of startled screams erupted.
…
"What if you play from inside this?"
Ryo appeared with a cardboard box that once held ripe mangoes.
Nijika and Goto just stared, dumbfounded by her outrageous idea.
But a moment later—
"This feels just like how I've always played!" came Goto's suddenly confident voice from inside the box.
Nijika gawked at it, muttering,"What kind of environment do you even live in...?"
But once Goto slipped into her "personal domain," she became unstoppable.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Let's have a blast tonight!" she shouted from inside, shaking the box in excitement.
Even Ryo, who had suggested the idea, was caught off guard."Feels like she's a totally different person..."
Nijika, relieved to see Goto (or rather, the box) motivated to perform, asked hesitantly,"Uh... how should we introduce you to the audience? Ichika-chan? Is it okay to use your real name?"
Goto's head popped out of the box just enough to quickly, desperately refuse."Uh, better not..."
"Then do you have a nickname?" Nijika tilted her head curiously, her side ponytail swaying.
"In middle school, people just called me 'Hey' or... 'That one'..." Goto mumbled gloomily, as if it were normal, though every word stabbed like a knife.
Nijika froze, horrified."How is that a nickname!?"
Realizing how pitiful it sounded, Goto flailed, panicking."I–I never got close enough to anyone for a nickname!"
Ryo, ever blunt, immediately supplied one."Ichika. Alone. How about... Bocchi-chan?"
Nijika's jaw dropped. That was basically a name people gave dogs! Did she ever think before speaking?
But—
From inside the box, Goto's eyes lit up like stars."I... I... I'll be Bocchi!" she declared, glowing with happiness.
Tiny sparkles of joy practically floated around her.
Nijika could only stare blankly at this blissful "Bocchi," wondering how something so sad could somehow turn heartwarming.
Meanwhile, a creepy figure had silently slipped into the room. Hearing Bocchi's voice, he nodded with satisfaction. Perfect timing. He crouched in the shadows, waiting for an even better moment. Don't ask how—perverts can cling even to ceiling corners.
"This is my very first nickname," Bocchi said dreamily, her whole face melting into a soft, blissful smile.
It was the first time Nijika had ever seen her like this. Watching her so happy actually made Nijika's chest ache. She pressed a hand to her heart and whispered,"My tears are about to fall..."
Encouraged by their kindness, Bocchi finally asked,"By the way... what's our band's name?"
Nijika flinched as if struck."Uh... we're called End Band."
"End Band," Ryo repeated calmly, then covered her mouth, chuckling with pride."A masterpiece."
"That name is awful! We're changing it for sure!" Nijika wailed, clutching her head in despair.
"Why? I think it's cute," Ryo said, confused.
"Uh... yeah," Bocchi timidly agreed.
Hearing even Bocchi side with Ryo, Nijika's scream grew louder, but she quickly gave up."Forget the name for now—it's almost time to go on."
At her words, Bocchi whimpered and retreated back into the box.
"It's fine!" Nijika smiled encouragingly."Even if we sound terrible, what matters is having fun. Music is about expressing emotions—"
Her warm pep talk was cut off by a sudden, bizarre voice.
"Exactly! Joy is the essence of everything."
Ishikawa Hayabusa appeared, quietly switching on his synthesizer and blasting the goofy preset sound he'd tuned earlier.
"Ah-iiiyaaaahhhh~"
The three girls jumped at the noise, staring at the amp—then at the keyboard.
And froze.
Hayabusa stood there draped in a ragged scarf, wearing iron bracers, long boots... and a loincloth.
Normally he looked fairly average in build, but shirtless, his physique was surprisingly solid—not overly muscular, but lean, balanced, and undeniably strong. Paired with that outrageous outfit, he radiated a kind of avant-garde, incomprehensible "fashion."
Hands on hips, he struck a bizarre pose."Even if we sound awful, as long as I keep the crowd's attention elsewhere, it'll be fine!"
"Ohhh..." Ryo's eyes widened, then she nodded in admiration."That could work. Girls would pay even higher ticket prices to see this."
Nijika gaped, face burning red. For several seconds she was too shocked to speak, then finally screamed,"Hayabusa-kun! Put your clothes back on!!"
"Ahhhh—!"
Beside her, Bocchi squeaked, face crimson, and sank back into her box.
Hayabusa, however, wasn't satisfied. Slowly, deliberately, he grasped the edge of his loincloth and began to tug.
"Ohhhh!" Ryo reeled back, overwhelmed."Our band could be famous across Japan in a single day!"
Bocchi, unable to resist curiosity, peeked through her fingers.
"Stop it right now!"
Nijika's forehead vein bulged as she grabbed a cardboard panel, blocked him from view, and punched him flat.
…
"Hayabusa-kun, even if you don't respect yourself, you can't commit crimes like that!"
"Yes, I'm sorry."
Now dressed normally, Hayabusa sat kneeling like a scolded child as Nijika lectured him sternly.
"You do realize you broke indecency laws, right? If that had been on stage, someone could've called the police—you'd have been arrested!"
"I am guilty," he admitted meekly. But then a thought struck him. He pulled out his phone, quickly searching something, and handed it to Nijika.
"But performing in underwear... that's rock, isn't it?"
On his screen was a photo of a massive concert crowd—and front and center, a performer in glaring white briefs.
Nijika's crimson eyes widened in disbelief.
Without even looking, Ryo nodded knowingly."Mm. That's rock."
"Hey!" Nijika snapped, horrified at her encouragement.
But Hayabusa, bolstered by Ryo's support, stood tall again. With both their eyes on him, he looked down at his waistband, hands hovering with conflicted determination.
"What are you doing?" Nijika asked warily.
"Well, since rock is about freedom... and I'm already a pervert... maybe I can push it further..."
"No, you can't!!" Nijika cried, face blazing, tears springing to her eyes.
…
Meanwhile, at Shimokitazawa Station, Kita Ikuyo stood frozen, staring in the direction of STARRY. Her usual bright smile was gone, replaced with hesitation.
She feared Hayabusa might really upload that apology video, boost it with paid ads, and humiliate her publicly. With him, anything felt possible.
But more than that, she was worried about the band's performance. If things fell apart because of her, she'd regret it forever.
She clenched her fists, recalling Hayabusa's mischievous grin.Damn it! Ishikawa Hayabusa, I'll remember this!
…
The show began. At the bar, Seika leaned anxiously, watching the band about to take the stage. A hastily gathered guitarist, barely rehearsed before performing—it was all too unsettling.
And though Nijika always looked cheerful, Seika knew her sister was fragile inside. Maybe she shouldn't have agreed so easily...
Her thoughts froze as Ryo and Hayabusa carried a cardboard mango box onto the stage—with someone clearly inside. Seika covered her face.
Then, at the bar, a figure appeared in a mask, sunglasses, and hat—looking like a would-be robber. She nearly jumped.
What was with all the weirdos today?
"I want to see End Band perform," the "robber" said, handing over money.
Hearing the voice, Seika immediately recognized her. Without fuss or anger, she accepted the payment, handed over a yogurt, and waved her inside.
…
After checking the power and sound, Nijika signaled the lighting tech. The stage lights flared.
The audience, already murmuring, now whispered in fascination."A mango box?""Some kind of new performance style?"
As Nijika prepared to introduce them, Hayabusa stepped forward. She stiffened, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"Let me do the opening," he asked.
"No weird stunts!" she warned.
"Trust me," he said, smiling with unusual reliability.
She hesitated, then relaxed slightly—until he added,"Nijika, Kita's still a member of the band, right?"
"Of course," she answered, puzzled.
…
"Good evening! Nice to meet you—we are End Band!"
Hayabusa strode to the front, microphone in hand."It's a little unusual, but let's start by introducing the members."
He swept an arm toward Nijika, who froze."Our leader, drummer, cheerful and energetic, yet as gentle as a mother—Ijichi Nijika!"
Blushing furiously, she glared at him with a what nonsense are you spouting look. She should never have trusted him!
But as the audience clapped and even teased her by shouting her name, she shyly waved. Seika, at the bar, smiled faintly, resting her chin on her hand.
Hayabusa moved on, leaning against Ryo's shoulder."On bass, the cool, aloof lone wolf—Yamada Ryo~~"
True to form, Ryo remained expressionless, simply nodding before ripping out a stunning solo that left the crowd gasping.
"As a bonus," Hayabusa added, "she actually likes being called a weirdo."
He then pointed to himself."On keyboard, the free-spirited pervert—Ishikawa Hayabusa. As the only guy, no need for more."
Finally, he approached the trembling box.
…
It's my turn?
Bocchi had imagined her introduction, the crowd chanting her new nickname... but now that it was real, terror gripped her.
Please, please skip me.
A soft knock on the box.
Then Hayabusa's lowered voice."Goto-san, just the two of us now. Play me something cool."
Liar—they were on stage!
Still, in the dim safety of the box, Bocchi clutched her pick and strings. No pressure came, only silence... but she remembered Hayabusa's gentle expression that lunchtime.
Somehow, she felt like there was a fragile but solid path beneath her feet, waiting for her to walk forward.
Nijika, Ryo, Hayabusa... In such a short time, she had met so many kind, welcoming people.
She allowed herself to believe it, just for now.
…
Her guitar solo ended in a silence so deep you could hear a pin drop.
Then—applause.
Hayabusa cheered loudly."On guitar, the mysterious newcomer—Bocchi!!"
The audience clapped along. But he wasn't done.
"And last, our idiot vocalist."
Nijika and Ryo turned, confused, as he extended his hand toward the crowd.
"Running around, free as she pleases—Kita!"
Down in the audience, Kita froze. She'd come in when the lights were out—how had he spotted her?
Wait—he'd called her by surname. Kita.
She thought back frantically to every exchange with Hayabusa over the past few days. On stage, he stood smirking, that mischievous smile saying: Come up here and make a fool of yourself with us.
Trapped.
She glanced at the others—Nijika, surprised but hopeful. Ryo, meeting her eyes, nodding once.
And finally, that twisted, fearless, scheming pervert, Ishikawa Hayabusa.
Their gazes invited her.
Could she still walk away? After what she'd done?
She couldn't play guitar... but he'd said "vocalist."
She... she...
Head down, Kita pushed through the crowd, tearing off her disguise. She ducked under the barrier and approached the stage.
Hayabusa bent low, hand outstretched.
She grasped it.
With his pull and her own step, she climbed onto the stage—but slipped.
"Eh—!"
Before she could fall, Hayabusa caught her, steadying her with one arm around her back.
"Careful there," he said with a grin. Then he turned to the mic and closed the introductions:
"And now... our rock to shatter loneliness begins."