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

The afternoon was a whirlwind of glitter, markers, and Hitori’s internal screaming. While Kita and Nijika debated fonts and logos, Hitori found herself tasked with drawing a mascot. She poured her entire soul—and her deep-seated anxieties—into the paper. When she showed them the result, a jagged, melting creature that looked like it was crying static, the room went silent. "It’s... unique," Nijika said, trying to be supportive. "It looks like a curse," Ryo added, clearly pleased.

"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.

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.

The door swung open. "Bocchi-chan! We’re here!" Kita’s aura was so bright it physically pained Hitori’s eyes.