In Yamada Ryō's mind, there were a few things in this world whose difficulty rivaled climbing to the heavens.
For her, one such feat was managing to save a bit of money every month for emergencies.
For Narumi, it was playing every single note on a score correctly.
"What the heck… did I sleep in a weird position last night or something…?"
Miss Yamada rubbed her eyes, then patted her ears, making sure she hadn't misheard.
"Koumi, you… when did you get rid of that tone-deaf setting?"
Ah—right. He'd almost forgotten that, in reality, he still had the fatal flaw of being musically illiterate and hopelessly off-key.
The final result of the second simulation hadn't been ideal, but it had still allowed him to fully inherit the skills of that version of himself—the third-rate bassist.
It wasn't anything earth-shattering, nowhere near prodigy level, but it was more than enough for underground gigs and ordinary live performances.
"Uh… isn't it possible that I was never tone-deaf to begin with, and I was just hiding my true ability?"
The curly-haired boy grinned and spun a lie with a tone so smooth and natural that, to anyone who didn't know him, it would've sounded flawless.
"No way. That kind of 'no matter how you play it, it's wrong' technique isn't something you can fake."
Of course—it didn't work on Yamada.
No, seriously. Was this girl sent by the heavens specifically to counter me?
"…Wait. Maybe not."
Before he could explain, the blue-haired girl frowned in thought, then raised an eyebrow as if enlightenment had struck.
"Being able to play every note wrong isn't something just anyone can do… If you can really pull that off, wouldn't that be a different kind of genius? Yeah, no way Koumi's that kind of genius."
"How is it not enough that you make assumptions on your own—why do you have to stomp on me too? You discount-brand Yamada."
"Did you secretly enroll in some kind of speedrun crash course? What class can turn a truly tone-deaf person into a normal human being in such a short time? I kinda want to see that myself."
Yamada scratched the back of her head with a troubled look, her face practically saying 'My head's itchy… feels like I'm growing a brain.'
"Alright—fine, you got me. I was lying before when I said I couldn't play guitar or bass."
Narumi pressed a hand to his forehead. Since he'd already gained skills he never used to have, there was no point fighting it now—he might as well go along with Yamada's wildly imaginative conclusion.
"Why, though? It's not like I'd cling to you and force you to join our band, lure you in with music and drag you into thrilling live performances, or get excited just because I gained another musician friend."
"Hey, you just said everything you were thinking out loud. If anything, that's exactly what I'm afraid of—you dragging me into playing music. I'm busy every single day, you know."
"Oh? And what are you so busy with all day?"
"Unlike you, Yamada—whose family runs a hospital and gives you a generous allowance—at least four-fifths of my living expenses come from part-time jobs I work myself."
Narumi shot her an annoyed look. She blinked, then nodded blankly.
"Sorry, Koumi. I kind of assumed we were always just messing around together, so our spending levels were about the same."
"That's only because you spend money way too freely. And if you don't want people to misunderstand our relationship, you should probably be more careful with words like 'messing around.'"
"Writers really are precise with wording, huh."
Yamada commented flatly, then her eyes suddenly lit up—an idea forming.
"Then how about this?"
Narumi had just carefully put the guitar back when he heard her proposal, and an inexplicable sense of danger rose in his chest.
He could roughly predict the thought patterns of most people—even difficult women like Yukinoshita Haruno—but Yamada was the one exception. He genuinely had no idea what went on in her head from day to day.
That said, Narumi had always been drawn to things he couldn't predict. Maybe it was precisely because Yamada constantly brought him unexpected novelty that he'd grown curious about her, and why the two of them had slowly become friends.
"I'll give you two-thirds of my allowance in exchange for your time, Koumi. Until the end of this month, you won't need to work part-time—come play with me. Think of it as earning money the easy way."
Unexpectedly, Yamada returned the wallet Narumi had handed her earlier.
"If I didn't need it myself, I honestly wouldn't mind giving you all of it—but then you'd have to be responsible for feeding me three meals a day."
Under the boy's puzzled gaze, she took down the guitar Narumi had just hung up, narrowing her eyes as she examined it carefully.
"Hmm… this guitar's actually pretty good. It easily passes as a beginner's guitar."
She looked up and waved to the shop clerk who had been silently observing their entire guitar-picking process.
"Boss, I'll take this guitar."
"…Yamada, what are you doing?"
Then, smiling, Yamada Ryō placed it into Narumi's stunned hands.
"It's a gift—for a friend I want to play music with. My first present to you. You can also think of it as an invitation."
Things were clearly heading in a direction Narumi had never anticipated.
"Didn't you come here to buy a new bass because yours broke…?"
"Yeah, but I've got at least five or six basses at home, so it's not urgent. Besides, if you're inviting someone to play with you, you should show some sincerity. Even I know that."
She had the clerk carefully select and package a guitar case, then handed the whole thing to Narumi.
When their eyes met, Narumi could see it clearly—unfiltered, unexaggerated sincerity in her gaze.
"And honestly, when I imagine playing music together with you… I think it'd be really fun."
"......"
Narumi, who had already prepared a rejection, fell silent for a moment. In the end, he still reached out and accepted the heavy guitar case.
"Just so we're clear—I'm only planning to test the waters. If I really can't adapt, I'll quit immediately, so don't expect too much from me."
He was the kind of person who treated others the way they treated him. And precisely because of that—when he realized Yamada had no ulterior motive, that she was simply looking forward to playing music with him and genuinely happy about it—he found himself unable to refuse.
And honestly, there wasn't much reason to.
"I'll hang out with you a bit."
"Yay."
Miss Yamada showed a rare look of satisfaction, her usually deadpan face filled with light, buoyant joy.
"Oh, by the way, I spent all of this month's allowance buying that guitar for you—so I'll be counting on you to feed me for the next three meals a day."
"I swear, you—"
Yeah. That vague sense of unease from earlier clearly wasn't going anywhere.
And if he got too close to Kessoku Band—
He'd definitely end up running into that person.
As the image of a certain pink-haired caterpillar surfaced in his mind, Narumi pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on.