Hearing the shout, Bocchi hurried down the stairs and rushed toward the living room.
The moment she stepped into the doorway, the first thing she saw was Ishikawa Hayabusa, sitting politely and calmly on the small sofa as if nothing had happened.
On the larger sofa sat her father, who was still leaning forward in shock, and her mother, who was gently pulling him back.
Bocchi panicked, her mind racing for a way to calm everyone down.
"Ah, I really was startled. Is it true—he's actually your friend, Ichiri?"
Her father leaned back into the sofa, looking more relaxed now, and smiled as he asked again just to be sure.
Hayabusa returned the smile, warm and pleasant, as if a fresh breeze had blown through the room.
"Yes. Uncle, Aunt, your reactions were just too priceless—I couldn't resist teasing you a bit. Sorry about that."
Her mother seemed almost relieved, but there was still an apologetic note in her voice as she said,
"No, we're the ones who should apologize. We just assumed you were a rental boyfriend Ichiri brought home."
The tension in the air eased slightly. Goto Naoki straightened his back, and with a casual tone, asked Hayabusa,
"So, Ishikawa-kun, how did you meet Ichiri?"
Hayabusa didn't play around this time and answered frankly.
"We're classmates in the same grade—and we're also in the same band."
"A band?"
Goto and his wife exchanged a surprised look.
Just then Bocchi rushed into the living room, flustered, waving her hands as if to block their questions.
"Dad, Mom, don't keep bombarding Hayabusa with questions!"
"Hayabusa?"
Both of her parents called out in surprise again.
Then Naoki's expression softened into a big grin.
"I see, I see…"
Bocchi, realizing he was teasing her, turned beet red and shouted.
"Dad!"
…
Hayabusa and Bocchi didn't stay long at the Goto household before heading out again.
There was still plenty of time before the band was supposed to meet up, but Bocchi was clearly feeling uncomfortable about letting her parents and Hayabusa talk too much.
Watching the three of them happily chatting—and even hearing some of her embarrassing childhood stories brought up—filled her with jealousy and unease.
But she didn't dare say anything to Hayabusa. She just kept glancing toward her parents with pleading eyes.
Her parents, however, were far too delighted at seeing their daughter bring home a friend—especially a male friend—for the first time. They completely ignored her increasingly pitiful expressions and continued chatting with Hayabusa as if they'd known him forever.
In the end, it was Hayabusa who took pity on her and stood up, saying that it was time to head to band practice. He politely said goodbye to her parents.
As they reached the front door to put their shoes back on, her parents stood there and warmly told him:
"Come by anytime to hang out."
"Mm. I definitely will," Hayabusa said with a bright smile, nodding.
…
On their way to the station, Bocchi finally understood what it truly meant for someone to be a normie.
He could get along with other people's parents so quickly, so easily—chatting with them as if he had known them for years.
According to her personal "social skills hierarchy chart," the lowest tier was being able to chat with toddlers.
Above that came shy younger kids, then ordinary younger kids, then normal peers, then cocky younger kids…
Step by step, all the way up to the very top: being able to chat comfortably with your friend's parents.
That was at the tenth tier. Practically godlike.
For reference—she barely managed to reach the very bottom tier if she stretched.
The gap between them felt like the distance between heaven and earth.
Bocchi glanced at the boy beside her, casually humming a tune as they walked, and couldn't help but look at him with something close to reverence.
…
They took the train straight to STARRY.
Descending the sunken stairs that led to the venue's entrance, Hayabusa noticed the half-open door and said to Bocchi,
"Looks like everyone's already here."
Bocchi, suddenly more tense than usual for some reason, answered half a beat late.
"Ah… yeah."
Hayabusa didn't think too much about it. He slid the door open, stepping inside while trying to decide how to make a dramatic entrance.
Bocchi followed quietly behind him.
Just then, they heard Kita's voice from inside.
"Ryo-senpai, I'm so sorry—I lied about the kind of music I said I liked that day."
Hearing this, Hayabusa's lips curled into a satisfied smile. He rounded the corner, vaulted over the railing, and dropped down gracefully.
Landing smoothly on the floor, he spread his arms wide in mock celebration, as if congratulating Kita.
"Excellent, Kita—you've grown!"
"Grown because of you!"
Kita instantly whirled around, glaring at him, her voice full of grievance.
Hayabusa stroked his chin, feigning deep thought.
"Hmm. That is a question, isn't it?"
"It's you, Ishikawa-kun!" Kita wailed, nearly in tears.
Hayabusa just laughed softly, letting the moment pass, then greeted everyone else in the room.
"Good afternoon, everyone~"
He glanced around as he spoke.
Nijika was sitting at the table today, wearing a sailor-style one-piece dress paired with a knitted cardigan—adorable, but somehow making her look even younger.
But… she was sixteen. Did she really need to dress like that?
Could it be because of what he said last time—telling her she'd make a good mother one day?
Ryo was still in her usual dark, androgynous clothes, standing near the table next to the stylishly dressed Kita.
Seika was sitting at the bar counter, looking as indifferent as ever.
"Good afternoon, Hayabusa-kun," Nijika said brightly, twisting in her chair to wave at him.
"Mm."
Ryo's response was a simple, calm grunt—but for some reason, there was a hint of displeasure in her eyes.
Hayabusa glanced at her, then at the sighing Kita, and immediately understood.
He quickly snapped a screenshot on his phone and sent it to Ryo on LINE.
Just then Nijika stood up, smiling as she said,
"Well, now that Hayabusa-kun is here—"
But she didn't get to finish her sentence, because Ryo—holding her phone—let out a quiet laugh that sounded suspiciously like a cough.
Then she looked at Hayabusa and said,
"Very nice. But next time, no sneaking off ahead of us."
Nijika shot the two of them a suspicious look.
Compared to the timid little lambs that were Kita and Bocchi, these two were the troublemakers of the band—the ones who occasionally revealed their mischievous nature.
For the sake of the band, she had to take on the heavy responsibility of supervising them.
…
By now, Bocchi had finally descended the stairs, maintaining her usual faint presence. She greeted everyone softly.
Nijika and Kita responded with their usual cheerful energy, while Ryo gave a casual nod.
Seeing the warm, lively atmosphere, Bocchi's blue eyes widened slightly in wonder—then she quickened her steps a little, moving closer to the group.
Hayabusa, watching her, let the corners of his lips curve up faintly.
He turned toward Kita, who had come with her guitar, and said,
"Let's take a look at Kita's guitar first."
Ryo, now composed, glanced at Hayabusa calmly. There was a faint glimmer of respect in her otherwise unreadable eyes.
Kita, picking up on the teasing tone in Hayabusa's voice, immediately knelt down as if to prove herself, unzipping her guitar case.
"Sure!"
She was full of confidence in the guitar she had double-checked several times.
She opened the case, revealing the instrument inside, and beamed as she turned to the others.
"See? It has six strings!"
Bocchi leaned forward at the sound of her voice, getting a clear view of what was inside.
As a guitarist, the sight struck her like a lightning bolt—her expression grew complicated as she turned toward Kita.
She thought about how she'd probably have to teach Kita guitar later, and, in a timid, gentle voice, offered,
"There are also basses that have six strings…"
"That's called an extended-range bass," Ryo added, correcting her with the proper term.
Kita's smile froze. She glanced at the two of them, then looked back at her so-called "guitar."
An inexplicable chill ran through her heart. The cheerful grin vanished from her face like a flash of lightning.
She looked again at her bandmates—at their sympathetic, indifferent, anxious, and slightly gloating expressions—then back down at the bass that could only go thump thump.
And in that instant, she understood everything.
"Guuh…"
Kita collapsed sideways as if turned to stone.
The other four just stared at her blankly.
From Kita's mouth floated what looked like a little soul, wailing in despair.
"But I bought this with two years' worth of allowance and New Year's money… all advanced from Dad…"
"Kita-chan!—"
Nijika practically shouted herself hoarse, trying desperately to call Kita's fading soul back to her body.