Do mango cardboard boxes hide pink caterpillars inside them?
If you asked Narumi, he would answer without hesitation: yes.
After Kessoku Band's performance ended, a pink-haired girl wearing a loose, pink tracksuit wriggled her way out of the cardboard box with her back to the audience. Her flexibility was impressive enough that even a cat would have struggled to match it.
As memories resurfaced, Narumi's eyes went unfocused, his consciousness following the experiences awakening in his mind, drifting back several years into the past.
When he was a child, there had been a timid pink-haired girl living next door. At an age when the neighborhood brats were running wild, throwing tantrums and rolling around on the ground, she would always hide inside her house, too afraid to go out. Even on the rare occasions she went for a walk with her family, she would shrink back behind her parents, trembling.
Back then, Narumi was just a little boy who hadn't yet entered adolescence. Worries and affections were simple things, and every day he eagerly awaited the small slice of freedom that came after school.
One day, when he was invited over to the neighbor's house, Narumi was enjoying some tea and snacks in the living room when he felt someone watching him. Turning his head, he locked eyes with a pink-haired girl peeking through a barely opened door, cautiously observing the guests.
That was the first meeting between Narumi Tōru and Gotō Hitori.
Just like in every clichéd children's story, the lively, energetic young Narumi and the extremely shy little Hitori became bound together by fate.
"I'm Narumi Tōru. I live right next door—what's your name?"
"Ah… I-I'm Go, Go… Gotō… Hitori…"
"You're really cute. You look like a pink caterpillar."
"D-don't call me a caterpillar…!"
"The adults are hanging out again. Wanna go on an adventure with me? Let's flip up some high school girls' skirts—it's super fun!"
"N-no—"
"No need to be shy, I'll take you with me!"
What Gotō Hitori actually meant was "no."
"Ahhh~ today was great! Caterpillar, wanna go home already? You're done already? Man, you're weak~"
"I… wanna go back…"
What Gotō Hitori actually meant was "I want to crawl back into my mom's womb."
"Alright, I'll walk you home~!"
"N-no—"
"No need to be shy!"
Someone please save Gotō Hitori…!
She ran, he chased; neither could escape.
Those days continued for quite a while, until just before middle school, when Hitori and Narumi—who had once again come over uninvited—happened to see a popular band's live interview on TV.
"Even if you're socially anxious, you can still shine in a band!"
After the guitarist said that, Gotō Hitori fell in love with the guitar.
"If you learn bass, you can smash people you don't like over the head with it."
After the bassist said that with a deadpan face, Narumi became interested in the bass—though the broadcast immediately cut back to the host, who was smiling awkwardly and desperately trying to smooth things over.
Because of their shared love for music, little Gotō—who had always avoided communication—gradually began to open up to little Narumi. At first, it was just a change from immediately running upstairs to her room whenever she saw him and being dragged back down by her mom, to hiding behind her mother and timidly poking out half her head to wave at him.
As the days of getting to know each other piled up, the extremely shy Gotō Hitori slowly began to smile at the boy with an unguarded, innocent expression. Their conversations increasingly revolved around music, and the two children—barely ten years old—used their shared interest to close the distance between them.
"When I… when I grow up, I want to become someone who shines like that guitarist…!"
For the first time, the little Gotō—who usually only talked to her plush toys—tried to voice her feelings to another real, living person.
"Sure. When that day comes, let's perform together."
Little Narumi smiled sincerely, and the two made a promise to form a band together someday.
But everything came to an abrupt end when they entered different middle schools and Narumi's family moved away.
One morning, with the help of a moving company, Narumi's family packed up everything they needed and disappeared quietly into the morning sunlight.
From that day on, Narumi never saw Gotō Hitori again.
Five years passed in the blink of an eye, and their promise seemed to fade into the corner of time—only for them to reunite on the same stage.
Still afraid of interacting with people, Gotō Hitori chose to hide inside a mango cardboard box while playing the guitar. Standing near the audience, staring blankly at her, Narumi gradually came back to his senses.
Reuniting with a childhood friend after so many years should have brought joy and surprise.
But Narumi's brow slowly darkened. Without a word, he turned around and picked up his bass.
What filled his chest was irritation.
Gotō Hitori's performance wasn't perfect—nerves and other factors led to small mistakes. But her overall sense of rhythm was spot-on, and her tasteful transitions and minor arrangements added unexpected flair to the performance.
And that only made him more irritated.
Why am I feeling like this…?
Narumi had never been particularly sensitive to his own emotions, yet at this moment he could clearly feel just how strong the discomfort twisting in his chest was.
[Although you are not like this in real life, the emotional traits randomly assigned to you will naturally influence your thoughts and actions within the simulation—otherwise, how could it be called a "simulation"?]
As usual, the system only chose to respond at moments like this.
Am I unhappy… because of that pink caterpillar?
Even as he stepped onto the stage to perform, that question continued to trouble Narumi.
Logically speaking, feeling upset made sense.
He had lost contact for five years with a childhood friend he'd promised to form a band with. During that time, neither of them had stopped improving their skills on guitar and bass—but both had gone on to form their own bands.
What is there to be angry about…? Didn't you yourself form a band with your friends without waiting to meet her again?
Narumi berated himself internally—more accurately, he was trying to persuade the version of himself inside this simulation.
But as he poured his energy into playing bass alongside his bandmates, watching the audience below grow indifferent, some even yawning, he suddenly understood.
What angered him wasn't just the broken promise.
It was the fact that Gotō Hitori's current skill and stage presence had surpassed his own.
"..."
The curly-haired boy lowered his head and plucked the final chord of the song.
So this was what it felt like, when jealousy and longing intertwined and overflowed within one's chest.