At the same time, though the clock ticked the same for everyone, emotions and the flow of time felt different depending on whose eyes you looked through.
Inside the train, Ishikawa Hayabusa gazed around at the people who seemed frozen in place.
Some scrolled idly on their phones. Some stared blankly. Some read. Some whispered to their companions. Some looked out the window. A few, like him, darted glances in every direction.
Here, inside the car, it was as though time stood still.But outside, the scenery streaming past was alive.
Hayabusa pulled out his phone. Nearly ten minutes had gone by.
As for asking Bocchi out earlier—it hadn't been a sudden whim. The thought had come after he saw the disappointed look on her face when he'd told her, "Good luck with your part-time job."
He felt he ought to clear things up, to seriously explain what he really meant.
But he couldn't do that in front of the band, nor while walking together toward the station.
That left only one option: take her to his place of personal comfort.
It might be quite a walk, though. Could Bocchi, the ultimate homebody, even handle going that far?
He tapped his phone, searched for information, and quietly mapped out the next day's schedule in his head. Then he opened LINE, scrolled casually, and when he saw Kita Ikuyo's profile picture, he couldn't help but smile.
…
Back home, Kita called out as she entered:"I'm home!"
Her mother in the living room replied in a flat tone, eyes still fixed on the TV.
Kita poked her head in, gave her a quick greeting, then hurried to her own room.
Her room was cluttered, decorated with trinkets and a few plushies. She sat down at her desk and grabbed a soft case resting there.
She unzipped it all the way and pulled out the instrument inside.
Six strings. She nodded decisively."This is definitely not a bass."
But then she remembered what the others had said earlier, and her confidence faltered."...Right?"
At that moment, her phone chimed. The sound told her it was a message from the group she had on special notification.
She unlocked it instantly.
It was from Ishikawa Hayabusa.
Hayabusa: "Kita, do you know how to do makeup?"
Kita blinked. Question marks filled her head. Was he seriously doubting a high school girl's most basic skill?
Kita: "Of course! I'm really good at it, actually."
Hayabusa: "Good. That makes things a lot easier. The kind of music you like requires a bit of makeup skill. I was a little worried for a second."
Music... makeup?
He was talking about music, right?
Kita: "I feel like you're tricking me again..."
After a moment, his reply came back with a grinning banana-man sticker, followed by an MV link.
He really was tricking her!
Kita felt a twinge of dread. Just what kind of music genre was this?
She opened the link cautiously. The title read: Detroit Metal City. Below, hundreds of glowing reviews.
Not a prank video, then. She exhaled in relief.
Still, the upload date was years ago.
Why was Ishikawa sending her something like this? Her heart skipped uneasily as she tapped play.
The music exploded instantly—fast, aggressive. Moments later, a pale-faced monster in heavy corpse paint and grotesque black eye shadow burst into frame like a cockroach.
"IwillKILL~YOUUUU!"
"Ahhhhhh!"
Kita screamed and hurled her phone across the room.
…
Not long after, Hayabusa received her reply.
Kita: "Ishikawa-kun... can you come to STARRY early tomorrow?"
Hayabusa: "What's wrong? The song match your mood perfectly?"
Kita: "I'm going to KILL youuuu!! (＋cute knife-wielding emoji)"
Hayabusa chuckled and pocketed his phone.
…
Later that evening, he got home to find his father watching the news. Feeling guilty about how little he'd been talking with his family lately, Hayabusa sat down beside him.
By dinnertime, his younger sister Hibiki came down the stairs. Before she even entered the living room, she could already hear the booming voices of two men declaiming like statesmen, their tones loftier than a president's. She let out a deep sigh.
At the dinner table, father and son continued arguing heatedly about the direction of the world's future.
Finally Hibiki couldn't stand it anymore. She set down her chopsticks and snapped at her brother."Onii-chan, you're so noisy!"
Hayabusa sat up straighter, glaring at her with theatrical pride."How dare you speak to me like that! You—"
Before he could finish, their mother's gentle voice cut through from the kitchen."Hayabusa~"
In an instant, his expression shifted."Dinner's delicious today, Mother. You must have added your love to it, as always."
His father, Ishikawa Jinpei, slammed his chopsticks down, unwilling to concede."Nonsense! Only my bowl has Shizuka's love!"
This time, their mother, Ishikawa Shizuka, sighed helplessly.
For a moment, the room quieted, filled only with the clink of chopsticks. But Jinpei soon turned to Hibiki, still stuck in his grandiose mindset."Hibiki, have you decided on a high school yet? How about going with your brother?"
"With that pervert?!" Hibiki looked up in disbelief.
Hayabusa tilted his chin proudly, as if being called a pervert was praise.
But Hibiki glanced at him again, fell silent for a beat, then muttered with a sudden edge of temper:"I'll decide later!"
…
The next day, Hayabusa greeted his mother before leaving, reminding her he wouldn't need lunch prepared.
He checked his phone. Still no rejection message from Bocchi.
That didn't mean much, though. Who could ever see through the thick walls of someone's heart? Not even people themselves always knew what they were thinking or why they acted the way they did.
He rode the train to Iketora Station.
Stepping outside, he spotted Bocchi sitting on a public bench, head lowered, deep in thought.
As always, she wore her tracksuit and carried a beige tote bag—an outfit so plain no one would ever notice her.
She looked like she'd been waiting there for quite a while.
Hayabusa understood why. She'd worry about everything that might happen, prepare early, and then—afraid the other person might arrive sooner—she'd end up arriving early herself.
"Bocchi."
Only when he came closer did he call out.
She lifted her head. Beneath her bangs, her clear blue eyes looked up at him."Ah... good morning."
"Morning. Let's go."
He waved her along. Bocchi clutched the straps of her bag tightly and followed.
They left the station, and Hayabusa checked his map, steering her down a quiet side street.
After a while, the silence started to weigh on her. The street felt more and more remote. Nervous, she whispered:"Um... Ishikawa-kun, where... where are we going?"
With a mischievous glint, Hayabusa finally smiled."Bocchi, you don't even know where we're headed, yet you follow me this far without question? Makes me worry about your safety, honestly."
But Bocchi dropped her gaze to the gravel underfoot, her mood sinking back into her usual gloom."Ah... someone worthless like me isn't wanted by anyone anyway..."
Hayabusa wasn't sure if this was about the part-time job talk earlier, or just her natural mindset.
He recalled her family situation and spoke gently."Your parents must care about you a lot, Bocchi. You should pay more attention to them too."
She only nodded faintly, not saying more.
After a short walk, he stopped."We're here."
Bocchi followed his gaze up to a sign that read:Bicycle Rental.
"Huh?"
She glanced back and forth between Hayabusa and the shop, confused.
Why come all the way to such a remote rental shop? They'd even passed another one earlier.
Wait—could it be...!?
Bicycle → chain → chainsaw.
Black market hospital!
Was he planning to chop her up for her organs?!
So that's what he meant earlier! And she had trusted him!
Could she run for it now? Maybe—
Her hand was seized.
Terrified, she looked up at Hayabusa.
His expression was grave, like a criminal resigned to his fate, as he pulled her into the store.
Bocchi knew she couldn't overpower a strong boy. To avoid being hurt, she obediently followed.
Father, Mother... I'm sorry. Your useless daughter won't be coming home.
Tears welled in her eyes.
Hayabusa strode to the counter and spoke firmly."Boss. Give me that one."
The man behind the counter was burly and towering, with thick arms, a grimy apron, and a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He stubbed it out in the ashtray, exhaled smoke, and said gravely:"You know this is against the law."
Hayabusa let out a heavy sigh, as though sealing his resolve."I know."
Behind him, Bocchi burst into tears.
Nooo! At least... at least give me anesthesia!
Futari... I'm sorry I never took good care of you. Not that you needed me to anyway...
"Wait here," the shopkeeper said, sighing like he pitied a young man walking down a dark path.
Bocchi's life flashed before her eyes. Her memories ran like a slideshow.
Nijika, Ryo, Kita... I'm sorry I can't play with you anymore!
Just as she began her final repentance, the shopkeeper wheeled out a bicycle.
A well-kept ladies' model, about seventy percent new, with a reinforced back seat.
Most rental shops didn't carry bikes like this.
"One last warning—carrying passengers on a bike is illegal. You..." He glanced at the trembling girl behind Hayabusa, then sighed again. "But the bike's in good condition. Don't worry."
His face softened with nostalgia as he handed the bike over.
Hayabusa extended his hand.
The shopkeeper gripped it firmly. Their handshake landed with weight.
"Mm."