The bell signaling the end of lunch break temporarily shattered the suffocating low pressure atmosphere inside class 2-F.
Fujiwara Ai sat calmly in his seat while holding an original English novel, appearing completely steady on the surface.
In reality, however, his brain was frantically calculating his personal survival rate.
At his front left seat, Yotsuya Miko had already turned back toward the blackboard as though listening seriously to the lecture.
But the dark resentment radiating from her body had practically materialized into visible pressure.
The lead inside her mechanical pencil had snapped three times already.
Each crisp click sounded like a hammer smashing directly against Fujiwara Ai’s nerves.
Meanwhile, inside his pocket, the phone still vibrated nonstop.
Goto Ichiri’s messages continued arriving one after another.
Although Bocchi usually needed half an hour just to decide whether or not to send punctuation, whenever the topic involved guitars or “Master,” her typing speed became terrifyingly fast.
[Um…
if you’re busy, that’s okay too…]
[I can record it and send it to you…]
[But…
I still really want Master to hear it in person…]
[Uuuu…
sorry, I got carried away again…]
[Um…
I’ll wait for you at STARRY…
I’ll wait forever…]
Fujiwara Ai glanced at the messages before sighing inwardly.
Hearing something like “I’ll wait forever” from Bocchi somehow carried absurd destructive power.
Because she genuinely looked like the type who would crouch forever in a dark corner like an earthbound spirit until mushrooms started growing around her.
Finally, the bell signaling the end of classes rang.
Fujiwara Ai immediately packed his school bag with smooth and efficient movements.
He had to seize the initiative before Yotsuya made her move.
“Yotsuya.”
He walked toward her desk while speaking calmly.
Yotsuya abruptly raised her head.
The dark resentment inside her eyes instantly transformed into surprise before rapidly shifting into a pitiful expression.
“Fujiwara-kun…”
“…are you going to fix the guitar again?”
She deliberately emphasized the words fix the guitar, clearly still brooding over that excuse.
“Yeah.”
Fujiwara Ai neither denied it nor overexplained.
For girls with Yandere tendencies, excessive explanation only looked suspicious.
He slowly reached out before lightly patting the top of Yotsuya’s head.
“Be good.”
“I’ll bring you pudding afterward.”
This combination of head pat plus food promise was the soothing strategy specifically recommended by the system.
The effect was immediate.
Yotsuya’s face instantly turned red while her tense body softened like a cat getting its fur stroked.
“T Then…
I want the limited edition pudding from the convenience store…”
She muttered quietly.
Although still reluctant, at least she no longer looked like she was about to blacken completely.
“Got it.”
Fujiwara Ai withdrew his hand before turning around and leaving the classroom.
Shimokitazawa, STARRY.
Today, the Live House was busier than usual.
Several bands seemed scheduled to perform tonight.
Fujiwara Ai walked downstairs into the basement with familiar ease.
The moment he pushed open the door, he spotted the familiar pink figure.
Goto Ichiri sat curled up in the darkest corner of the room while hugging her guitar tightly and radiating an overwhelming aura of please don’t notice me.
Beside her, Ijichi Nijika chatted casually with Seika while occasionally glancing toward Bocchi with concern.
“Ah!
Fujiwara-kun!”
Nijika immediately noticed him before waving energetically.
“You’re finally here!
Bocchi-chan has been waiting so long she’s practically about to grow mushrooms!”
The moment the words Fujiwara-kun entered her ears, the pink creature curled in the corner visibly trembled.
Slowly, she turned her head.
Those usually evasive eyes instantly lit up the moment they met Fujiwara Ai’s gaze.
“M…
Master!”
Bocchi hurriedly tried standing up to greet him.
However, because she had crouched too long, both legs had gone numb.
She wobbled unsteadily like a roly poly doll and nearly fell face first onto the floor.
Fujiwara Ai immediately stepped forward and caught her shoulder.
“Careful.”
His tone remained cold as usual, but his grip was stable and reliable.
“S Sorry!
I…
I’m such trash…
I can’t even stand properly…”
Bocchi instantly entered self loathing mode.
Her face became red like a ripe tomato while her eyes gradually lost focus as though she had started fantasizing about some bizarre scenario again.
“Where’s the song?”
Fujiwara Ai ignored the muttering completely and got straight to the point.
The moment the topic shifted toward music, Bocchi’s entire expression changed.
The focus and determination belonging to Guitar Hero returned immediately.
“H Here.”
She nervously pulled a wrinkled music sheet from her pocket before handing it over.
“I…
I wrote it while thinking about Master…
ah, no!
I mean…
I wrote it while thinking about our performance together that day!”
Fujiwara Ai accepted the sheet music.
The handwriting looked messy.
Some notes were even crooked.
He quickly scanned through the melody.
The atmosphere felt oppressive.
The intro began with low melancholic arpeggios overflowing with loneliness and self doubt.
Then during the chorus, the melody suddenly exploded violently, as though someone had ripped apart darkness itself.
Longing for light.
Longing for understanding.
“Go play it.”
Fujiwara Ai returned the music sheet before pointing toward the stage.
“Eh?
R Right now?!”
Bocchi immediately panicked.
She glanced nervously toward the other band members currently adjusting equipment nearby.
“T There are too many people…”
“Look at me.”
Fujiwara Ai’s voice became low and firm.
Bocchi subconsciously raised her head before meeting those deep black eyes.
“This song was written for me, right?”
“Y Yes!”
She stammered desperately.
“Then play it for me.”
Fujiwara Ai walked calmly toward the front of the stage before sitting down.
He crossed his legs and folded his arms, adopting the posture of a sole audience member.
“Everything else doesn’t matter.”
Those words carried a strange magical effect.
Bocchi slowly inhaled deeply.
She stared toward the boy seated beneath the stage.
Although Fujiwara Ai always maintained a cold expression and rarely spoke much, whenever she stood near him, she felt she wasn’t some gloomy monster anymore.
She felt recognized.
Play only for him.
A song existing only between the two of us.
Bocchi picked up her guitar before stepping onto the stage.
Cable connected.
Amplifier adjusted.
The instant her fingers touched the strings, the socially anxious Goto Ichiri vanished.
What remained was Guitar Hero.
Clang.
Heavy distortion erupted from the speakers.
It was the DS-1 tone Fujiwara Ai had personally helped her tune.
Thick.
Powerful.
The melody burst outward like violent waves.
Bocchi poured every suppressed emotion into her guitar.
She confessed.
She screamed.
Using the instrument instead of her mouth, she conveyed all the emotions she could never express verbally.
Below the stage, Fujiwara Ai listened silently.
[Ding!
Strong emotional resonance detected.]
[Skill [Soul Resonance Performance] passively activated.]
[You have understood her inner voice.]
[Fear of loneliness.]
[And…
longing toward you.]
The song ended.
Bocchi stood onstage drenched in sweat while panting heavily.
Her trembling fingers still hadn’t calmed down.
Nervously, she looked below the stage.
There was no applause.
No cheering.
Only Fujiwara Ai quietly standing up before walking toward the stage and handing her a bottle of water.
“Not bad.”
Only two simple words.
But to Bocchi, they sounded like the highest praise imaginable.
She accepted the water bottle while a warped but genuine smile bloomed across her face.
“Hehe…
hehehe…”
At that moment, the entrance door to STARRY suddenly opened.
A lively voice shattered the atmosphere.
“Ah!
Found you!
Great One really is here!”
Fujiwara Ai turned around.
Standing near the entrance was a blonde gyaru carrying an exquisite paper bag while rushing over excitedly.
Kitagawa Marin.
“Why are you here?”
Fujiwara Ai frowned slightly.
How exactly did this girl locate him?
“Hehe, I have my own information network!”
Marin ignored his cold attitude entirely before energetically handing him the paper bag.
“This is my thank you gift!
Homemade omurice!
Even if it probably can’t compare to Great One’s cooking, I guarantee the taste is good!”
Only then did Marin finally notice Bocchi standing onstage.
“Wah!
Such cute pink hair!
Are you a cosplayer too?
Which anime is the tracksuit from?”
Bocchi had absolutely zero resistance against this type of person.
Fashionable.
Bright.
Loud.
A complete normie gyaru.
Practically her natural predator.
“Hieee…
Hieeeeee!!!”
Bocchi screamed instantly.
Her body practically melted into a puddle of pink liquid while attempting to escape through the cracks beneath the stage.
“…She’s shy.”
Fujiwara Ai had no choice but to intervene.
He stepped directly in front of Marin, blocking her overwhelmingly radiant presence.
“And stop calling me Great One.
Just use my name.”
“Okay!
Fujiwara-kun!”
Marin immediately changed how she addressed him while grinning brightly.
Then she naturally moved beside him until the distance between them became dangerously close.
“Um…
Fujiwara-kun.
There’s a cosplay convention this weekend.
Could you come with me?
I want to cosplay as Kuroe Shizuku, but there are still details I need your help with…”
“Cosplay convention?”
Before Fujiwara Ai could answer, the system notification suddenly appeared again.
[Ding!
Shuraba Warning Mission triggered: Weekend Invitation]
[Option 1: Agree to accompany Kitagawa Marin to the convention.
Marin favorability will greatly increase.]
[Option 2: Refuse and accompany Bocchi for guitar practice instead.
Bocchi favorability will increase.]
[Option 3: Bring both girls together.
Extremely high difficulty operation.
Please choose carefully.]
Fujiwara Ai looked at the expectant Marin standing before him.
Then he looked toward Bocchi, who peeked nervously from behind the stage with eyes screaming Master is getting stolen away.
A headache.
Did this system genuinely think he wasn’t busy enough already?
“I’m busy this weekend.”
Fujiwara Ai decisively chose the safest answer.
“I need to study.”
“Ehhhhhh?!”
Marin immediately dragged out a long disappointed cry.
“How can you say that when you’re already so amazing, Fujiwara-kun…”
Her eyes shifted around mischievously.
Suddenly, she leaned closer toward his ear before whispering quietly enough that only the two of them could hear.
“If it’s the special soaked maid version…
are you really still not interested?”
Fujiwara Ai: “…”
Was this woman seriously trying to tempt him using fanservice?
Unfortunately.
He was currently an emotionless poker face.
“Not interested.”
Fujiwara Ai calmly pushed her face away before turning toward Bocchi.
“Let’s go.”
“Ah?!
O Okay!
Yes, Master!”
Bocchi instantly looked as though she had received divine salvation.
She hurriedly picked up her guitar before following closely behind Fujiwara Ai like a little tail.
After walking out of STARRY.
Marin still chased after them unwillingly.
“Fujiwara-kun!
Think about it one more time!
Even one hour is okay!”
While the three of them continued this strange push and pull situation, mostly involving Marin’s one sided pestering.
At the nearby intersection corner.
A long haired girl quietly stood hidden within the shadows.
Yotsuya Miko.
Inside her hand rested a bag containing the limited edition pudding she had specially bought.
Her amber eyes stared silently toward Fujiwara Ai surrounded by two girls.
Especially that blonde gyaru who shamelessly stood so close to him.
And that pink haired girl.
Who actually called him Master.
Snap.
The plastic spoon for the pudding broke apart inside Miko’s hand.
A slightly broken smile slowly appeared at the corner of her lips.
“So this…”
“…is what fixing the guitar means.”
“Fujiwara-kun…”
“…you really are a bad boy.”
“It seems…”
“…you need deeper disinfection.”
At the exact same moment.
Inside Fujiwara Ai’s field of vision.
[Malice Perception] suddenly emitted a violently sharp warning alarm.
He abruptly stopped walking before instantly looking toward the intersection.
No one stood there anymore.
Only a crushed pudding spoon remained quietly on the ground.
A deeply ominous feeling surged inside his chest.