A few minutes later, consciousness slowly returned to Hitori Gotoh. The wave of social anxiety that had overwhelmed her had receded, leaving her disoriented.
She was lying on something hard, which was uncomfortable. Yet, her head rested on a warm, soft cushion that felt wonderful. On instinct, she nuzzled her face deeper into it.
"You're awake."
The low voice came from above.
Masao looked down at the girl using his lap as a pillow, observing her drowsy movements.
Hitori's eyes fluttered open. She blinked, her vision swimming into focus as she looked up.
And saw it. The triple chin. The cavernous nostrils. The broad, fleshy face gazing down at her with a smile that was probably meant to be gentle but landed squarely in the realm of lecherous.
It was too much. Her brain short-circuited. With barely a gasp, Hitori Gotoh fainted for the second time.
Masao stared at the girl who had promptly lost consciousness again, scratching his head in bewilderment.
'What just happened?' Then, his eyes lit up with sudden understanding.
"Of course! It must be low blood sugar. That explains the fainting. A healthy person doesn't just collapse like that. I should have realized it sooner."
He began patting down his pockets, determined to find a piece of candy to revive her.
——
In the depths of her unconsciousness, Hitori felt something hard pressed against her lips and into her mouth. Her weak resistance was futile.
'So sweet.'
It was candy. As the sugar melted on her tongue, a wave of pure bliss washed over her. A serene expression settled on her face.
'I love this. It tastes like milk. So hard at first, but it gets so soft and creamy... I love it.'
Her tongue darted out to catch a trickle of drool at the corner of her mouth, a tiny, contented sigh escaping her.
Seeing her respond, Masao grinned in relief. He'd been right—it was low blood sugar, after all.
He gave her a gentle shake. "Hey. Time to wake up."
Hitori's eyes opened once more. The same alarming face filled her vision. She inhaled a sharp, startled breath, but this time, she didn't black out. Perhaps the initial shock had built up a sliver of tolerance, or maybe the comforting sweetness in her mouth was a talisman against panic.
Still, terror seized her. Every fiber of her being screamed to flee, to find a dark, silent corner where she could curl into a ball and vanish from reality.
She tried to process her surroundings, and what she saw nearly made her mind shatter.
The train cart was now full. During the time she'd been unconscious, a steady stream of passengers had boarded.
Hitori, lying across the seats with her head in a strange man's lap, was a spectacle. Every pair of eyes in the vicinity seemed to be fixed on them.
Masao, not being socially anxious and having grown accustomed to attention from his time with Yukinoshita, was unbothered. Hitori, however, was the polar opposite. The weight of countless stares crushed her spirit. She broke, her instincts taking over.
She rolled over, twisting her body to bury her face against Masao's leg, hiding from the world.
'Uwu… I'm not here. They can't see me. I'm invisible…'
"Tss—!"
Masao sucked in a pained breath through his teeth.
But Hitori was lost in her own spiraling panic, hugging her head, trembling, and breathing in ragged gasps. She was completely unaware of his discomfort.
The other passengers watching this intimate scene raised their eyebrows and exchanged looks of understanding. They knew exactly what they were seeing.
Just then, the train began to slow for the next station. In a swift motion, Masao grabbed Hitori's guitar and slung it over his back. Then, he scooped up the girl clinging to his leg and, in a hurried escape, bolted from the carriage the moment the doors slid open.
The remaining passengers watched the large boy dash away with the pink-haired girl in his arms, their knowing smiles turning into smirks.
'Couldn't even wait to get home. Young people these days…'
Meanwhile, Masao finally skidded to a halt in a deserted, shadowy alley.
He set Hitori down on the ground, shrugged off the guitar, and leaned against the wall, catching his breath and discreetly adjusting his cramped posture.
"Whew... Much better."
With the immediate crisis averted, he finally turned his full attention to the girl on the ground. She was still a trembling, muttering heap, clutching her head as if the world was ending.
The frantic sequence of events had left him no time to think. But now, looking at this shivering, pink-haired creature, the pieces clicked into place.
'The pink hair. The pink tracksuit. The guitar. The world-bending social anxiety.'
It was her. The legendary basement-dwelling guitar hero, Hitori Gotoh. Bocchi-chan. The "Bocchi" (slang for loner) came from hitori, meaning "alone"—a nickname so fitting it was almost cruel.
Dealing with a girl this socially crippled was a unique challenge.
He could easily manipulate her; the system's doujinshi was full of "bull fighters" who bent far stronger wills to their own. He could probably convince her to do anything, even...
But Masao still had a shred of conscience. He decided then that he would heal this lonely, adorable girl. He would use patience and kindness to draw her out.
Filled with this noble resolve, Masao stretched out his foot and gently prodded Hitori's hip.
"Hey. Get up. There's no one else here."
This was his grand strategy of 'patience and kindness'?
The physical nudge, combined with his words, pierced the fog of her panic. Slowly, she uncurled, loosening her grip on her head and peering out at her surroundings.
'Ah… A dark, deserted alley. My natural habitat. It would be heaven… if he weren't here.'
Even with just one stranger present, her heart was a frantic drum against her ribs. But perhaps the trial by fire on the train had forged a tiny sliver of resilience within her. She was still conscious, wasn't she? She hadn't fled or fainted.
'Heheh… I'm talking to a stranger. Well, he's talking and I'm… not running. I'm really evolving. This is a major growth arc for me!'
In truth, escape was a geographical impossibility. Masao's large frame completely blocked the only exit from the secluded alley. She was well and truly trapped.
Seeing that she had somewhat stabilized, Masao spoke again. "My name is Tanaka Masao. What's yours?"
"G-G… Gotoh… Hitori…" she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. On the outside, she was a picture of pure terror. On the inside, a triumphant fanfare blared.
'I did it! A full self-introduction! I said my name to a stranger! This is a historic moment! Is this what peak social performance feels like?!'
Masao nodded, his suspicion confirmed. This was indeed the protagonist from Bocchi the Rock!, in the flesh.
"Hitori Gotoh, huh?" he said, a note of finality in his voice. "Okay. From now on, I'll call you Hitori Bocchi."
"Huh?"
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