For the first time, the "Home of the Bocchi" didn't feel like a fortress meant to keep the world out. It felt like a place where the world—or at least the three most important parts of it—finally belonged.

"It’s... very pink," Ryo noted, immediately gravitating toward a shelf of expensive-looking music gear. "Can I sell this?" "No!" Hitori squeaked, her social battery already at 4%.

As the sun began to set, the tension in Hitori's chest finally started to loosen. They weren't just "cool bandmates" visiting a "weirdo." They were friends sitting on her floor, laughing at Ryo trying to eat a crayon and Kita accidentally spilling tea on a draft.

Hitori Gotoh sat in the corner of her room, her face pressed against the floorboards as she contemplated the impending doom. In thirty minutes, the Kessoku Band—Nijika, Ryo, and Kita—would be arriving at her house for their first official meeting to design band T-shirts. To anyone else, this was a fun afternoon. To Hitori, it was a tactical siege on her sanctuary.