"Exactly!"
Ishikawa Hayabusa turned back, raising his thumb with a dazzling grin.
Ryo blinked in surprise, then let the faintest smile flicker across her lips before it quickly vanished.
"Eh? Eh? Is that really the case??"
Kita Ikuyo's outburst only served to prove why Ishikawa Hayabusa had been called a weirdo—after all, he had just spouted that ridiculously over-the-top declaration.
Nijika let out a small sigh of relief. Just a moment ago, she hadn't known how to respond at all.
Though they had only met less than two days ago, she felt that Ishikawa Hayabusa's every word and action carried a sincerity that came straight from his heart. He didn't seem like a bad person at all.
When that other girl had called him a pervert, she had truly worried for a moment whether Hayabusa had gotten himself into trouble.
"Don't scare me like that…" she muttered with a little pout.
"Sorry about that."
Hayabusa scratched the back of his head, smiling sheepishly in a way that showed he wasn't being entirely serious about apologizing.
But then his tone shifted, becoming earnest.
"But if you call me a pervert, I'll actually be really happy."
The easy atmosphere froze instantly. In the endless flow of passersby, the three girls standing still all wore equally strange expressions.
They exchanged glances.
Nijika stared at Ishikawa Hayabusa in shock, then at the other two.Ryo's eyes had widened slightly in surprise.Kita Ikuyo, meanwhile, looked absolutely furious—like she couldn't believe he'd say something like that in front of Ryo-senpai.
But after a brief pause, Ryo stepped toward Hayabusa. Her normally expressionless face softened into the faintest smile—a smile that, in Hayabusa's eyes, added a playful charm.
She held out her hand.
"Then… if I call you a weirdo, I'll be happy."
She echoed his phrasing.
Kita Ikuyo froze on the spot, stunned.
Hayabusa grasped Ryo's hand, accepting her goodwill.
"Weirdo."
Ryo nodded in affirmation.
"Pervert."
Sitting on an instrument case, Nijika groaned and buried her head in her hands.
"My poor band…"
Kita Ikuyo, dumbstruck, stared at their clasped hands and muttered in disbelief.
"Unbelievable… to use a tactic like that!"
The farce ended, and the two began tuning their instruments. The thumping of drums, the plucking of bass strings, filled the small square.
Hayabusa wandered over to the flowerbed and sat down, watching with interest as the two adjusted their sound.
His keyboard didn't need tuning the way theirs did, which made the process all the more fascinating to him.
But then he felt it—a stare boring into him, making his scalp prickle.
He turned his head. Kita Ikuyo quickly looked away. That eerie sensation vanished.
He turned back. Not two seconds later, the feeling returned.
He looked again.
And thus began their silent war of shifting gazes.
The unusually brutal battle raged for twenty seconds. Their eyes darted skyward, sideways, downward, crossing mountains and rivers in this unspoken duel.
In the end, Ishikawa Hayabusa won.
Of course he did. As someone who had once been socially anxious, he was hypersensitive to eye contact.
And, not to brag, but his greatest strength now was his shamelessness. He could easily turn the tables and make a girl blush just by staring her down.
(Though whether the police would approve of such tactics was another matter entirely.)
Following Kita Ikuyo's line of sight, he realized where her gaze had been fixed: his hand—the very one that had just shaken Ryo's.
At once, he understood everything.
He dismissed the foolish thought of buying a bag of chips just to lick his fingers dramatically in front of her, and instead turned back to the two girls, who were nearly ready to begin.
"Alright, let's start," Nijika called out.
She leaned forward slightly, glancing at Hayabusa with a warm smile glowing in her crimson eyes, her side ponytail bouncing with energy.
She exchanged a glance with Ryo, then nodded.
The next moment, the drums thundered to life.
The solid foundation of the band fell into place, and the grand stage unfolded.
But this time, instead of being buried beneath the drums, the bass leapt out from its usual supporting role. Its deep, heavy rhythm danced above the beat, becoming the star of the music.
The bass-led performance carried an uncommon flair. Its low tones moved with a swagger, as if dancing atop the drumbeats. Slowly, people began to pause, gathering to listen to this small street performance.
No fanfare, no theatrics—just music. Just performers immersed in their sound. And still, people stopped. People listened. People…
Hayabusa's gaze drifted toward Kita Ikuyo, whose eyes sparkled like stars.
Following her line of sight, he turned to the center of the small crowd, where Ryo Yamada played with complete absorption, expressionless yet wholly immersed in the music.
She held her bass, swaying casually with the rhythm, her body moving as naturally as breathing. In that moment, she radiated a rare beauty, like Erato gently caressing her lyre.
Her instrument was like an amplifier for her inner voice, her thoughts resonating through every note.
Cool—yes. But even more striking was the way she expressed her own sound.
Hayabusa solidified his conviction: this was what he wanted. To keep going like this, to do this.
And at the same time, Kita Ikuyo made her own decision.
A guitarist, huh…
Then she would become the kind of woman who could stand by Ryo-senpai's side.
The performance ended. Sparse applause rippled through the small audience.
Nijika and Ryo gave shallow bows. The crowd, recognizing the end of the show, began to scatter. The lively street fell quiet once more beneath the impersonal shuffle of footsteps.
When Hayabusa glanced back, Kita Ikuyo—who had just been completely entranced—was already gone.
"Hayabusa…"
At Ryo's lazy call, he hurried over.
…
On the way back, Ishikawa Hayabusa once again carried most of the gear.
The two girls didn't seem to treat him any differently, despite his earlier "confession."
Their footsteps echoed against the neon-lit streets under the night sky. Not long ago, these same two girls had stood at the center of a crowd, commanding attention with their music. Now they walked quietly at his side.
As dinner hour approached, the crowd shifted: fewer students, more office workers hurrying home, the occasional couple strolling by, and wanderers without aim.
At his side, Nijika seemed to wrestle with her thoughts for a while before finally speaking.
"Sorry… for always making you carry everything, Hayabusa-kun."
Hayabusa could sense there was something she wanted to ask but was holding back out of worry.
But instead of explaining, he simply smiled.
"This is exactly what I mean by perverts helping each other. Besides, shouldn't bandmates support one another?"
Nijika's expression was easy to read.
First, she blinked in surprise. Then she seemed to think, No way… wait, actually, that makes sense. Oh, then it's fine. Finally, realizing she hadn't responded yet, she hurriedly nodded.
"Mm-hm."
Nijika was adorable.
Ryo, watching from the side, interjected, circling back to what Hayabusa had said before the performance.
"Hayabusa. Earlier you said you wanted to join the street live. Was that true?"
"Yeah… I'd like to try performing too. It just seems so fun."
Ryo arched a brow at his words, but he quickly added:
"But your performance today was amazing. I'm still not on that level yet—but I've grown a lot."
"Don't underestimate music."
Her calm tone carried a sharp edge.
"Then listen to where I'm at now. Judge for yourself."
Hayabusa spoke with a smile, but there was no hint of retreat in his voice. The heavy equipment on his back seemed like nothing to him.
Headlights from passing cars swept across his face, illuminating the unshakable confidence that never left his expression.
"Eh, eh—hold on, you two! Hayabusa-kun, Ryo can be really strict when she's serious!" Nijika hurried ahead of them, flailing her arms as she tried to ease the tension.
"It's fine. Criticism shows you flaws you can't see yourself. Besides—fair warning—perverts are strong."
"…I'll be very harsh."
Beneath the deepening night sky, a so-called pervert carrying instruments walked side by side with two girls, their unhurried steps leading them toward the stars.