Kazama Haru nodded, catching the shift in Taki's expression behind him—her features darkening like storm clouds rolling across summer sky.
"It seems Shiina-san doesn't have much faith in my abilities." He tilted his head, a strand of dark hair falling across his forehead. "Then perhaps I should prove myself properly. Consider it... an introduction through music."
Without waiting for her response—she seemed lost somewhere far away—he stepped onto the small stage. The wood creaked beneath his sneakers. He lifted the borrowed guitar, fingers finding familiar grooves in the neck, and plugged in. The amp hummed to life, warm and expectant.
His eyes met Kaname Raana's mismatched gaze—one amber like autumn leaves, one violet as twilight.
"Shall we play something together? Any song you're comfortable with?"
Raana's expression remained placid, almost doll-like. "I can play anything. Show me the score."
"Hoh~ That's quite the cool declaration."
This girl... she says it so naturally, like breathing.
Haru chuckled, genuine appreciation coloring his voice. He turned, finding Taki watching him with those sharp eyes—finally emerged from whatever spiral had claimed her. "Shiina-san, could I borrow your tablet? I'd like to pull up some sheet music for Raana."
"Tch. What a pain."
That characteristic tongue-click. Taki's nose wrinkled with practiced annoyance, yet her hand was already fishing through her bag. The tablet appeared, thrust toward him with more force than necessary.
"Arigatou, Shiina-san." Haru accepted it with a sincere bow.
Textbook tsundere, he confirmed silently. Cold armor wrapped around a surprisingly considerate heart. She'd complain the whole time while quietly making sure everyone had what they needed. That prickly exterior—likely forged in the shadow of her older sister Shiina Maki's brilliance, tempered further by Togawa Sakiko's overwhelming talent.
A defense mechanism. Armor against inadequacy.
He scrolled through tabs until he found it. "'Kurenai'—does this work?"
The classic X Japan track. Perfect for showcasing dual-guitar prowess—complex enough to challenge, iconic enough to communicate without words.
Raana tilted her head, heterochromatic eyes scanning the notation. One heartbeat. Two.
"Understood."
No hesitation. No uncertainty. Just absolute confidence wrapped in monotone.
"Show me the technique, and I shall reproduce it flawlessly!"—the chunnibyou-esque declaration echoed in Haru's mind, making his lips twitch.
He drew a breath. Let the atmosphere of the original song seep into his consciousness—that gothic darkness, that operatic despair.
Then his fingers moved.
His right hand swept across the strings without a pick, flesh meeting steel directly. The opening riff erupted—deep, menacing, distorted notes rolling like thunderclouds pregnant with lightning. Each chord struck like a heartbeat in a nightmare, resonant and inescapable.
Raana's guitar answered immediately.
Her tone sliced through his foundation—crystalline, surgical, perfectly complementary. The two sounds braided together, forming a wall of music so dense it pressed against the chest.
"Su-sugoi...!"
Tomori's gasp cut through the instrumental storm. Even having witnessed Haru's playing before, her eyes sparkled anew, catching the stage lights like scattered stars. Her small hands pressed against her chest as if to contain something swelling too large.
Beside her, Taki went rigid.
What... what the hell?
Her earlier certainty crumbled like wet sand. This was the same Kazama Haru she'd dismissed? The one she'd mocked for lacking equipment?
He's not using a pick. No loop pedal. Nothing.
Her throat tightened.
Then what was all my condescension worth?
The realization hit like ice water. Her fingers curled into her palms, nails pressing crescents into soft skin, knuckles blanching from unconscious pressure.
I'm such an idiot.
On stage, oblivious to the storm raging in the girl's chest, the music entered its chorus.
High-speed sixteenth notes cascaded from Haru's fretboard. His left hand became a blur across the upper registers—tapping, bending, vibrato executed in seamless sequence. Afterimages seemed to trail his fingertips.
Yet his face remained serene. Focused but relaxed. Like a monk in meditation, finding peace in complexity.
He makes it look so easy, Taki thought bitterly. Like breathing.
Raana held the rhythm steady as bedrock, her body swaying slightly with the pulse. When dual-guitar harmonies arrived, her notes slotted against his with mechanical precision—two gears turning as one.
Then Haru launched into a shredding passage, fingers screaming up the neck, and Raana responded without missing a beat—adding a harmonized counter-melody that hadn't been in the original arrangement.
Improvised. Perfect.
The twin guitars spiraled around each other like phoenixes in courtship—intertwining, separating, reuniting. The emotional weight pressed down on everyone present, thick enough to taste.
The final chord rang out.
Faded.
Silence.
Both guitarists looked up simultaneously, gazes locking. In Raana's mismatched eyes, Haru saw something kindle—recognition, perhaps. The quiet excitement of finding an equal.
"...Satisfying."
Raana wiped her forehead with her sleeve, a thin sheen of sweat glistening there. Then she glanced at Haru—completely dry, breathing even—and something flickered in her expression.
Interest. Genuine, undisguised interest.
"You're an interesting man."
"And you played beautifully, Raana." Haru reached for a water bottle nearby, offering it to her. "That improvised harmony was inspired."
She didn't take it.
Instead, she stepped past the offered bottle entirely, closing the distance between them. Her fingers—still warm from playing—wrapped around his wrist.
Firm. Certain.
Below the stage, Tomori's breath caught audibly.
"Form a band with me." Raana's heterochromatic eyes bore into his, utterly serious. "When does the live performance begin?"
---
"...Yosh, I've added my contact info."
Haru returned the phone to Raana, who sat across the café table with her attention devoted entirely to the towering matcha parfait before her. The creamy green dessert disappeared spoonful by spoonful with mechanical efficiency.
The afternoon light slanted through the window, catching dust motes and painting everything in honey tones. The café smelled of roasted coffee beans and something sweet—perhaps the parfait itself, perhaps the cinnamon rolls cooling behind the counter.
"Check your messages from now on, okay?" Haru leaned forward slightly, ensuring he had her attention. "And when I contact you about practice, please arrive on time."
"Mm."
Non-committal. Her spoon never paused.
Haru tried a different approach. "Raana. If you come to every practice on time and behave, I'll treat you to matcha parfaits and soba regularly. Deal?"
The spoon froze mid-journey.
Both of Raana's eyes—amber and violet alike—suddenly gleamed with unmistakable light. Her gaze lifted to meet his, and for the first time, real warmth entered her expression.
She looked at him like he'd just revealed the location of buried treasure.
"...Matcha parfait. Soba." The words came out almost reverently. "Delicious things."
This girl really is like a stray cat, Haru thought with an internal chuckle. Find the right treat and she becomes remarkably cooperative.
"Then it's a promise."
To prevent future communication disasters, he leaned closer—close enough to catch the faint sweetness clinging to her, sugar and green tea—and began walking her through the messaging app. Step by patient step, like a kindergarten teacher guiding a particularly distracted student.
"You tap here to open the chat. See this icon? That's our group conversation. When the notification badge appears—this red circle with numbers—that means someone sent a message..."
His voice stayed gentle, unhurried. Infinitely patient.
At a nearby table, Tomori and Taki watched this scene unfold.
Taki's eyes narrowed to suspicious slits.
This guy...
Her grip tightened around her iced coffee. Condensation dripped onto her fingers, cold and forgotten.
He's definitely a playboy. A smooth-talking scumbag who manipulates girls' hearts like it's nothing.
Kaname Raana was infamous—everyone knew she listened to no one, obeyed no authority, wandered wherever her whims carried her. Yet here she sat, docile as a housecat, practically eating from his palm after knowing him for barely an hour.
He figured out her weaknesses immediately. Exploited them perfectly.
Taki's jaw clenched.
I need to stay alert. Protect Akari from this snake before he—
"Taki-chan?"
Tomori's soft voice interrupted her spiraling vigilance. But when Taki glanced over, she found no shared concern in her friend's expression.
Instead, Tomori was watching Haru with something complicated swimming in her amber eyes. Something that looked uncomfortably like... longing. And underneath it, a shadow that might have been jealousy.
Haru-kun really is kind, Tomori thought distantly, watching his patient smile as he repeated instructions for the third time. He treats everyone so gently.
Her chest felt strange. Tight.
But lately... his gentleness seems to spread to more and more people.
First Amaori Renako. Now Kaname Raana. And whoever came next.
When he said "forever"... did he only mean the band?
The thought landed like a stone in still water, sending ripples through her entire body. Her expression visibly dimmed, brightness draining away like sunset fading to dusk.
If only there was some way to keep him looking only at me...
The possessive thought surfaced unbidden, and Tomori didn't push it away.
"Brr—"
Across the café, Haru suddenly shivered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Is there a draft in here? Why do I feel like someone's walking over my grave?"
He remained blissfully unaware of the complicated emotions brewing at the nearby table.
After one final reminder to check her messages—"I mean it, Raana, this is important"—he saw her off at the café entrance. She wandered away with the remaining parfait somehow still in hand, already seemingly forgetting his instructions.
Well. We'll see.
He returned to the table where the two girls waited, sliding into the seat across from them. Taki's expression had calcified into something resembling carved ice. Tomori's had recovered somewhat, but something fragile lingered in the set of her shoulders.
"So, Shiina-san." Haru met her glare with an easy smile. "Does my guitar skill meet your standards now?"
The barb landed exactly where he'd aimed it.
Taki's eye twitched. The memory of her earlier dismissal—"Do you even have a pick? A loop pedal?"—burned fresh and humiliating.
She wanted to kick him. Hard. Right in his smug, handsome face.
No. The shin. Definitely the shin.
With visible effort, she forced her violent impulses down and manufactured a smile sharp enough to cut glass.
"Rather than your guitar skills, I'd rather praise your skills at manipulating girls." The words dripped with honeyed venom. "That 'stray cat' is famous for ignoring everyone, yet she follows you around after one afternoon. Quite the ladykiller, aren't you?"
Haru laughed dryly, shaking his head. Arguing with her about this felt pointless—she'd believe what she wanted regardless.
Instead, he turned to Tomori, expression softening.
"Akari."
She startled slightly at his direct address, cheeks flushing pink.
"Now we only need a bassist, and our core lineup is complete." He held her gaze, voice dropping to something intimate. "Which means... you can start working on lyrics tonight. If you'd like."
"E-eh?"
"That notebook of yours." His smile turned warm, genuine. "The moment I saw those pages, I knew. You have real talent for this, Akari. True instinct for songwriting."
He leaned slightly forward, narrowing the distance between them.
"I believe in you. I know you can write something that belongs to us. Something that captures who we are as a band."
Tomori's heart stuttered.
The scene before her seemed to blur, overlap, merge with a memory—Togawa Sakiko, her white knight, speaking similar words of encouragement years ago.
"I believe in you."
The same unwavering faith. The same warmth.
"H-hai!"
Energy flooded through her like electricity, igniting every nerve. She straightened in her seat, voice rising far above her usual gentle tone—loud enough to make Taki flinch beside her.
"I'll do my absolute best! Please believe in me, Haru-kun!"
Her eyes shone. Determination burned there like a small sun.
Watching this transformation, Taki felt her irritation spike sharply.
"Oi." She jabbed an accusatory finger toward Haru. "You. Frivolous playboy. Stop saying such embarrassing things to Akari!"
"Embarrassing?" Haru blinked, the picture of innocence. "This is just how I normally speak."
He tilted his head, that infuriating smile playing at his lips.
"Besides, once the band starts performing well, I'll praise you the same way, Shiina-san. With the same words. The same sincerity."
A pause, just long enough to land.
"So perhaps you should get used to it now? That way, when the time comes, you won't develop any... unfortunate expectations from my encouragement."
"—Hah?!"
Taki's face flushed crimson as his meaning registered. Her eyelids dropped to dangerous half-mast.
What is this bastard implying? That I'd mistake his generic compliments for romantic interest?! That I'd fall for him like some lovesick fool?!
"You—!"
She glared at him with enough heat to melt steel.
But Kazama Haru seemed utterly unbothered by the threat radiating from her. If anything, his smile grew brighter. More genuine. More irritatingly handsome.
And despite herself—despite every rational thought screaming warnings—Taki found her anger faltering.
That smile...
It was disarming in a way she couldn't quite articulate. Open and mischievous and somehow sincere all at once. The kind of smile that made you forget why you were mad in the first place.
How many years did this scoundrel work as a host?! He's got this down to an art form!
She caught herself staring and immediately looked away, cheeks burning hotter.
Dangerous. This man is dangerous.
Forget protecting Akari—I need to protect myself first.