And so, another weekday began.
Rinto carried a microphone stand, Momoka's guitar strapped to his back, and a speaker dangling from his other hand.
Fully loaded with gear, the two of them headed for Kawasaki Station.
Their rented old house had almost no redeeming features, but at least it was close enough to walk to the station—that alone was something to celebrate.
Since Momoka insisted she'd been slacking off for the past few days, she decided today wasn't the day to embarrass herself somewhere like Shimokitazawa or Shibuya.
That this big sister could actually get shy was so adorable that Rinto couldn't resist leaning in and greedily breathing in her scent—stopping only when Momoka was on the verge of suffocating.
As Rinto finished setting up their equipment beside a large glass wall, the kouhai he'd arranged to meet showed up right on time.
"Good evening, Senpai. You look even more mature dressed casually—hard to believe you're a 17-year-old student."
Togawa Sakiko wore a tasteful, elegant dress, white lace socks framing her slim ankles, and black leather shoes.
A ribbon at her neckline was tied into a perfect bow. The whole ensemble made her look like a neatly wrapped gift—one you might receive for New Year's.
Seeing her cute, polite manner paired with that sly, teasing tongue made Rinto's smile widen.
"Good evening, Sakiko. Sounds like you're calling me old, though—do I really look that unlike a high schooler?"
"It's meant as a compliment, you know," Sakiko replied, tilting her head cutely.
She knew exactly how cute she was—and exactly how to make use of it.
Taking two small steps forward, she reached up to smooth Rinto's collar.
"Senpai, you're tall, broad-shouldered, and naturally masculine. Plus, you're thoughtful and kind—you rarely show that careless, childish behavior most boys your age do."
"Your outer looks match your inner charm. It's not some cheap visual-kei vibe, but genuine maturity and steadiness. Let me be blunt: if people call you a playboy, Senpai, that's entirely your own fault."
How did praise that flattering end on that note...? Rinto had no idea.
Still, a compliment was a compliment. It made him happy—if also a little embarrassed.
He was just about to tease Sakiko back and return the favor by pointing out the ojou-sama's own charms—when he remembered that Momoka was standing right next to him.
"Hmph Heeeh Little missy, you sure seem to know Rinto well. Been watching him for a long time, have you?"
…Oh no.
From an angle Sakiko couldn't see, Momoka's hand slipped into Rinto's clothes, her fingers pinching the soft flesh of his waist!
Instantly, Rinto straightened up, posture full of righteous composure.
"Momoka, let me introduce you. This is the kouhai I mentioned before—Togawa Sakiko."
"And Sakiko, I'm sure you already know her. This is Kawaragi Momoka herself, my… roommate, yeah."
That description should be safe enough, he thought guiltily.
What he'd told Sakiko earlier was simply that he and Momoka were roommates, and that he happened to be her fan.
Technically, there was no rule against dating for aspiring pros...
…But an adult sleeping with a 17-year-old was a serious matter. If that got out, Momoka's career would be finished.
If she were already famous, it might only cause a small stir. But for a struggling unknown, it would be fatal. That's how unfair the industry was.
"Nice to meet you, Momoka-san!"
Thankfully, Sakiko didn't seem suspicious.
Her eyes sparkled as if she'd discovered some hidden treasure.
"I'm Togawa Sakiko—please just call me Sakiko! It's an honor to attend the same school as Rinto-senpai; he's been such a huge help to me—one could even call him my life mentor! Actually, it was thanks to him that I discovered you, Momoka-san. With your beauty and talent, I'm sure you'll become famous!"
Momoka blinked. "Ah... Thank you? …Beauty? Talent? That's praise, right?"
She glanced nervously at Rinto, who solemnly gave her a thumbs-up.
At this point, Rinto was convinced Sakiko was a hardcore fan—a full-blown industry geek who liked analyzing artists' potential like battle stats.
But honestly, Momoka's face was what drew him in at first. He couldn't deny that.
If someone with a face that perfect didn't become popular, then everyone in this country must be blind—or stupid.
After mentally endorsing this absurd conclusion, Sakiko took out her phone.
"Could I get a picture with you, Momoka-san? And please let me watch your performance up close... Ah, and of course, Rinto-senpai, I'd like to buy one of your CDs. I'll pay."
Rinto watched her pull a worn but neatly flattened thousand-yen bill from her wallet.
Something about that gesture—and her bright smile—felt oddly twisted.
For a moment, he imagined another version of her standing just behind: a small, stubborn girl, biting her lip like a hedgehog ready to take on the world.
"...Thanks for your patronage."
He accepted the money and handed her a CD personally signed by Momoka.
And so, without another word—
The two stood a short distance away, managing the CD sales from Momoka's guitar case and watching her perform.
Among the crowd, a few pedestrians stopped to listen, but most hurried past, leaving Momoka alone to fight the flow.
"Rinto-senpai."
Flipping through the handmade CD, Sakiko asked casually,
"How did you meet Momoka-san? Were you a longtime fan who turned into a stalker, cornered her, and forced her to live with you?"
Rinto groaned. "You know, Sakiko, lately you've been harsher with me. And you always assume the worst motives—is that just my imagination?"
"It's because you're shameless, Senpai."
Without missing a beat, she continued, "You're too popular with women—please reflect. Every girl who experiences your kindness thinks she's special, only to find out you're equally kind to everyone. And since you don't even mean it that way, it's even worse. Seriously, reflect deeply."
"...I see. Maybe I really do need to think about that."
Am I really that bad? She said it twice—maybe she had a point.
Being a nice guy was hard. Rinto sighed.
"January, age seventeen. I came to Tokyo."
"I was tired, doubting if anything I did had meaning. So I left everything behind and came here alone."
"...Wait, does that mean you're from some distinguished family who ran away from home, Senpai?" Sakiko gasped, covering her mouth in surprise.
Her mind immediately spun up a drama: maybe Rinto was the runaway heir of an old Kyoto family—or even a yakuza son gone straight!
The thought made her heart race.
But Rinto shook his head.
"Nothing like that. I don't have a family or any connections—I never even met my parents."
"What I mean is, I came to Tokyo with nothing. And because I had nothing, I wanted to start from zero."
"Coincidentally, a girl once recommended Momoka's songs to me. I was instantly drawn in by that stubborn, unyielding energy... And then, I happened to meet her at my part-time job. Everything after that just... happened naturally."
It was probably fate. And Rinto was genuinely grateful for it.
He'd just become her fan when he met her in person—and somehow ended up living with her.
A story too perfect for reality, straight out of a late-night novel.
Sakiko nodded thoughtfully.
"So, it's just your usual lady-killer luck, Senpai. Must be nice—I'm jealous."
"Jealous of Momoka, or of me?" Rinto teased.
Sakiko flipped her hair, unbothered.
"Both, obviously."
She lifted the handmade CD, glancing between it and Momoka performing nearby.
Since Momoka had left Diamond Dust, she couldn't use their official photos for the cover.
And being camera-shy, she refused to take new ones herself.
So the CD ended up plain and minimal—just her name and a handwritten signature.
Sakiko evaluated it mercilessly.
"Momoka-san's skill is professional-level, but her marketing sense is hopeless. She insists on solo recordings and replaces real instruments with effects pedals—that wastes so many good songs."
"In today's information-saturated world, with so many talented girl bands competing daily, trying to rely on talent alone is naive. If her first impression is weak, people won't give her a second chance. At this rate, she'll burn out and quit music altogether."
"...Yeah, you're right."
Rinto silently listened to Sakiko's sharp words, agreeing deep down.
He'd thought the same things himself, but never said them aloud to Momoka.
He didn't want to sway her with cold, objective criticism. He wanted her to do things her own way—to protect her freedom, even if that meant spoiling her a little. Maybe it was indulgent. Maybe even irresponsible.
But Sakiko was different.
She wasn't just some onlooker throwing out opinions from a safe distance, nor was she mocking Momoka—a washed-up, unknown twenty-year-old rocker—to feel superior.
She was completely serious as she looked Rinto in the eye.
"Senpai, can you please share Momoka-san with me?"
"I want her. I want to form a band with her and make a real professional push. This time, I'll handle the direction. I'll make sure Momoka-san's potential gets the recognition it deserves."
…Ah. So that was what Sakiko had been after all along.
Rinto finally understood why this girl cared so much about charts, trends, and data.
Ever since he'd introduced her to Momoka's music, she'd confirmed the talent for herself—and had been quietly planning to recruit her ever since.
Sakiko was dead serious about turning pro. She genuinely wanted to make a living through music.
Nothing wrong with that, of course. In fact, it was admirable.
"...Mm. I support you talking to Momoka," Rinto said. "Though I can't promise she'll say yes."
He gave Sakiko a gentle pat on the head, and she immediately puffed her cheeks in protest.
He admired her ambition—but part of him didn't want to see her so openly pragmatic.
She was only sixteen, after all. Just a high schooler.
How could she possibly shoulder the life of a twenty-year-old nobody like Momoka?
With a faint smile, Rinto added, "Momoka's a stubborn mule. You'll have to ride her for a long while before she lets anyone steer her. She quit her first band in high school because she hated commercial marketing."
"Of course, she might not stay stubborn forever. Sooner or later, reality could wear her down. She might bow her head, apologize, and let herself be ruled by the numbers."
Sakiko hesitated. "...Does Senpai hate that kind of thing? Do you think it's shallow? Gross?"
The white-clad girl looked up at him, amber eyes trembling as she nervously clutched her skirt.
She wasn't just asking about Momoka—she was asking about herself.
Rinto saw right through her. He could feel her confusion, her uncertainty.
He gently patted her head again.
"I just want you both to be happy. As long as you're content, the path you take doesn't matter to me."
"Compromise isn't wrong. As long as you can live with yourself, I'll support you from the sidelines."
Honestly, though, part of him was excited by the mental image of Momoka onstage in frilly idol clothes, striking a cute pose—
（<ゝω·）Momoka~☆
That would be pure bliss.
He'd definitely film it in 8K and treasure it forever—replaying it every night before bed.
"...Senpai, this is exactly your problem."
At his words, Sakiko's composure completely crumbled.
"You say things like that to every girl, don't you? I know I'm not special—just another fish caught in your giant net."
"But even knowing that, I'm still happy… I swore I'd never rely on anyone again, that I'd live only by my own strength… and yet you—"
Her voice cracked.
"—You went and did it again. You made me want to depend on you."
...Thud.
Rinto felt a small impact as Sakiko suddenly threw herself against him.
She buried her face in his chest, arms tight around his waist, holding on as if she'd never let go.
Momoka: "...?"
Even Momoka stopped mid-song, raising an eyebrow with an expression that clearly said, You sure you want to do this right here?
Rinto threw up both hands in panic ┗( 'o∧o｀)┛ to show he hadn't started it.
He spoke softly to the girl clutching him.
"Sakiko, calm down, okay? We can talk this through. I'll treat you at the café next door…"
A small, trembling voice interrupted him.
"Rinto?"
...Wait. What?
At the worst possible moment, when things were already a tangled mess, Rinto turned his head.
From the Kawasaki Station exit, a girl in a bright red coat appeared.
She had a round, cherubic face—undeniably cute.
With a smartphone in one hand and a suitcase in the other, she stood out vividly against the bustle of the city.
The pleated skirt and black stockings under that red coat landed perfectly in Rinto's strike zone.
Japanese JK fashion truly was the best—no, wait!
The girl froze, staring straight at him. Her suitcase slipped from her hand and toppled to the ground.
Rinto stared back, stunned.
Barely daring to believe it, but still hoping, he called out:
"Nina? You're Iseri Nina, right? From Kumamoto—"
"—Rinto! ?·°(৹˃̵﹏˂̵৹)°·?"
The round-faced girl burst into tears, blue eyes overflowing as she sprinted toward him and threw herself into his arms.
Sakiko, who'd been there first, was crushed painfully between them, glaring at the newcomer in disbelief.
But the girl didn't even notice her.
Her whole world was Rinto—overjoyed, disbelieving, radiant—as she blurted out:
"Rinto, let's get married! I came to fulfill our promise—to spend my whole life with you!"
""—HAAH?!""
Sakiko and Momoka screamed in perfect harmony, instantly syncing for the first time ever.