After discreetly observing him from the corner of her eye, Nagasaki Soyo arrived at a conclusion remarkably similar to Shiina Taki's.
No matter how critically one examined Kazama Haru, one had to concede that he possessed an almost unfairly perfect face.
Any woman whose romantic interests aligned toward men, upon glimpsing those sharp features—the clean line of his jaw, the way afternoon light caught in those calm, knowing eyes—even if she suspected he might be the sort of smooth-talking playboy who toyed with maidens' hearts, would find herself unconsciously softening. Forgiving. Compromising.
And yet, even acknowledging this... Soyo still couldn't fathom why Takamatsu Tomori placed such extraordinary weight on his opinion.
Tomori was decidedly not the frivolous type who melted at a handsome face. For her to depend on him so completely—could there be something more beneath the surface?
Nagasaki Soyo's eyes narrowed fractionally, irises glinting beneath her bangs.
In any case, she thought, twirling a strand of silken hair around one finger, regardless of what's transpired between him and Tomori, my plan for the Band's revival must proceed without sentiment clouding my judgment.
On Kazama Haru's end, he found himself equally surprised that Takamatsu Tomori's first instinct upon receiving such a heartfelt invitation from her former bandmates was to seek his approval before all else.
"Of course," he said smoothly, offering Soyo a genial smile. "Since Nagasaki-san is an old acquaintance of both yours and Shiina's, and she seems like such a gentle, considerate person—I certainly have no reason to refuse her joining."
"Really? Thank you so much, Kazama-san!"
What utter nonsense, Soyo scoffed internally, though her voice emerged dripping with honeyed sweetness—saccharine enough to make one's teeth ache.
Kazama Haru's ears practically rang from that deliberately manufactured 'customer service' tone. Compared to this forced pleasantry, he found himself far more intrigued by the prospect of hearing Soyo's completely unmasked voice later.
That slightly impatient edge, combined with her delicate, sweet-faced appearance... the contrast was simply delicious.
Seeing Kazama Haru nod his assent, Takamatsu Tomori—alongside Shiina Taki, who was muttering darkly, "Why do we need this guy's approval anyway?"—both released simultaneous sighs of relief.
Tomori's slightly parted lips, flushed pink from anticipation, gradually curved into a radiant smile. The expression transformed her usually reserved features, warmth blooming across pale cheeks like cherry blossoms unfurling in spring.
"Then... let's all form a Band for life."
"For life?"
Taki and Soyo both widened their eyes in unison, clearly not expecting Takamatsu Tomori to invoke such a weighty phrase.
"Mm." Tomori nodded with quiet conviction, her gaze sweeping over each of them with burning intensity before finally settling on Kazama Haru. When their eyes met, something electric passed between them—a current of understanding that made the air feel heavier, warmer. Her voice carried a trust so absolute that anyone observing would recognize its depth.
"When we first discussed forming this Band... Haru-kun promised me that this would be a group that would never disband. Not ever."
Her fingers unconsciously drifted toward the hem of her cardigan, twisting the soft fabric as color continued rising in her cheeks.
"As long as the Band members can still play their instruments... everyone will always be together. Happily singing on."
So that's how it is.
Nagasaki Soyo, still toying absently with that strand of hair by her temple, felt understanding click into place like a puzzle piece sliding home. Now she comprehended why Takamatsu Tomori seemed so utterly devoted to Kazama Haru.
He had identified her deepest wound—the trauma of her previous Band's sudden, devastating disbandment—and by offering her an unwavering promise of permanence, he'd swiftly captured her heart's trust.
Clever, Soyo acknowledged silently. And perhaps even a little cruel.
Taki, meanwhile, gradually recovered from her initial shock. First she shot a withering glare at Kazama Haru across the room, ruby eyes blazing as if demanding: What exactly did you say to Akari?
Then she pivoted toward Takamatsu Tomori beside her, and when she spoke again, her voice had transformed completely—solemn, almost reverent. Like someone reciting sacred wedding vows at an altar.
"I swear it." Taki's pale cheeks flushed faintly, though she'd never admit why. "If it's with Akari... I'm willing. For life."
Nagasaki Soyo smiled her practiced smile and raised one delicate hand, five slender fingers extended in a gesture of oath. "Then I'll swear too, okay~?"
Swear to what, exactly? Kazama Haru wondered, observing her with knowing amusement. Swear to definitely revive CRYCHIC?
He couldn't help but marvel at how thoroughly Soyo had mastered the art of saying everything while committing to nothing.
"What about you, grinning idiot?"
Shiina Taki fixed her intense crimson gaze on Kazama Haru, practically boring holes through him. "You made that promise to Akari so easily. If you dare go back on your word—" Her voice dropped to something low and threatening. "—I will absolutely not let you off easily."
Sensing that Taki still harbored considerable hostility toward him, Nagasaki Soyo's heart leapt with quiet satisfaction. She quickly pressed the advantage:
"It's perfectly fine, Kazama-san~" Her tone was silk over steel. "If you make a 'for life' promise to all us girls here, it might cause considerable... complications... should your girlfriend or someone similar find out." Those jade eyes glittered with barely concealed mischief. "You really don't have to force yourself."
Almost instantly recognizing her thinly veiled attempt to discourage him, Kazama Haru simply smiled and shook his head.
"Don't worry, everyone." His voice was steady, unwavering. "Since I so presumptuously spoke such selfish words to Akari... I intend to take full responsibility. For her, and for our Band. Until the very end."
"Mm!"
Takamatsu Tomori nodded vigorously, her entire face now flushed a deep, becoming rose. The warmth spread down her neck, disappearing beneath the collar of her blouse. Her heart hammered so loudly she was certain everyone must hear it.
"Oh, is that so~" Nagasaki Soyo drew out each syllable, the smile in her eyes deepening to something unreadable. "Well then... please take care of us from now on, Kazama-san."
"Hmph. Is that right?" Shiina Taki snorted coldly, crossing her arms beneath her chest. But quietly—so quietly she barely acknowledged it herself—a small spark of grudging approval kindled within her at his decisive response.
---
After Taki's shift ended, the group made their way into the pre-booked rehearsal room together.
The space smelled of aged wood and guitar polish, afternoon sunlight slanting through dusty windows in golden bars. Amplifiers hummed faintly in standby mode, and the worn leather of the studio couch creaked as they settled in.
Noting that Kaname Rana still hadn't arrived—though the messaging app clearly showed "read" beside his last message—Kazama Haru suggested everyone first enjoy the lyrics Takamatsu Tomori had written.
Clutching the lyric notebook against her chest, Shiina Taki's expression underwent a dramatic transformation. Her eyes went wide, then soft, then glassy with barely suppressed emotion—as if every word on the page had been plucked directly from her own bleeding heart.
"This is... Akari, this is practically me..."
Nagasaki Soyo, by contrast, reacted with polished indifference. Her compliments flowed like honey—"So beautiful," "Such raw emotion," "Truly moving"—but that smile remained impossible to read. Genuine appreciation or flawless performance? The line was invisible.
Kazama Haru understood. At this point in her journey, Soyo hadn't truly accepted Takamatsu Tomori's lyrics. Even during the CRYCHIC era, when Togawa Sakiko—Soyo's untouchable ideal, that distant star she could never quite reach—had praised Akari's songwriting multiple times, Soyo had only pretended to agree outwardly. Deep down, she'd never developed genuine appreciation for Akari's compositions.
That particular wound runs deep, Haru mused. And it won't heal easily.
Accompanied by an increasingly close rumbling of wheels against wooden flooring—like some wandering cat doing exactly as it pleased—Kaname Rana appeared in the doorway, dragging a heavy equipment case behind her.
"Rana-chan, you made it."
True to his word, Kazama Haru immediately produced the pre-purchased, rapidly melting matcha parfait from behind his back with a small flourish.
"Mm. Thank you."
The instant she spotted her favorite treat, Kaname Rana's striking heterochromatic eyes—one amber, one emerald—lit up with an almost childlike sparkle. A soft word of gratitude escaped her lips before she eagerly accepted the dessert, already reaching for the tiny spoon.
"Honestly, Kazama."
Shiina Taki's voice carried a mixture of exasperation and genuine concern. "Your dedication to keeping promises is admirable and all, but seriously—are you really going to buy this stray cat matcha parfait every single time?"
She gestured emphatically at the treat Rana was already devouring. "We practice at least three times a week! Your wallet isn't bottomless! No matter how you slice it, this expense is completely impractical!"
"Oh my, is this our other Guitarist?" Nagasaki Soyo leaned forward with apparent delight, studying Kaname Rana like one might admire a particularly adorable kitten. "Rana-chan, was it? So cute~!"
Kazama Haru simply smiled and shrugged. "If this habit gets Rana-chan to arrive on time consistently, then every yen is money well spent." He watched fondly as Rana spooned green ice cream into her mouth, cream dotting the corner of her lips. "Besides—she's precious. I'll just treat her like a little sister."
"Heh. Little sister, is it?" Taki's eyes narrowed skeptically. "You're really something else, finding such convenient excuses for your philandering ways."
But then she sighed heavily, some of the fight draining from her shoulders. One hand came up to brush stray strands from her face—strands that fell like tears painted against porcelain skin.
"Forget it." Her voice softened almost imperceptibly. "If it's truly to 'domesticate' this troublesome, self-willed Guitarist... then you shouldn't have to pay for it out of your own pocket."
She fixed him with a stern look, though something warmer flickered behind those ruby irises. "When the time comes, just deduct the parfait expenses directly from the stray cat's performance fees as reimbursement. Understood?"
Listening to the tear-marked drummer's seemingly harsh yet secretly considerate words, Kazama Haru felt warmth bloom unexpectedly in his chest. His lips curved into a genuinely relieved smile—not the practiced, charming expression he often wore, but something softer. More real.
"Yes, yes," he replied, letting fondness color his voice. "I'm really happy that you care about me so much, Taki-chan."