The stairs creaked—three sets of footsteps. Hitori scrambled to sit cross-legged on her bed, trying to look casual. She ended up looking like a gargoyle that had just seen a ghost.

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.

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.

"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%.

"Welcome!" Hitori’s mother chirped from downstairs, her voice far too enthusiastic. "Hitori-chan is upstairs! Please, go right up!"

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Nijika looked around, impressed. "Whoa, so this is where Guitarhero lives."