"What are you doing here at this point?"
The words from the girl in front of him sounded as if she were grinding her teeth, and at the same time full of self-reproach.
Yuutenji Nyamu stood at the doorway of her apartment with a calm expression, while Haru, dressed in loungewear, looked like a purple cat with its fur on end. Her fine eyebrows were raised sharply like blades, and those pink, diamond-bright eyes stared at him without blinking.
"I came to talk," Haru said.
"We don't have anything to talk about, do we?" Nyamu folded her arms and spoke coldly, but she still avoided looking Haru in the eyes. Her usually pretty face showed none of the practiced smile she kept for her videos.
"Why do you think that?"
Haru sighed lightly at the strength of her rejection. After a few seconds of silence he slowly lifted his downcast eyes. His calm expression made Nyamu avert her gaze, hugging herself and unsure how to respond.
"…Anyway, can you let me in? It's really cold to talk out here."
The girl was silent for two seconds, then let out an exasperated sigh as if giving up.
"All right, come in."
When Haru received permission, the corner of his mouth lifted into a faint smile, he said, "Sorry to intrude," and stepped into Nyamu's apartment.
The moment he crossed the genkan threshold, Nyamu instinctively moved to hide the mess beside her, but Haru's gaze had already passed over her not-so-tall shoulder and landed on the small mountain of black garbage bags.
The sight was more surprising than he had expected.
There were paper bags and newly bought clothes tossed on the bed, some with tags still attached, and the little round table even held half-eaten tonkotsu ramen. The bedroom was strewn with shopping bags and random items.
This room was the exact opposite of her public image, and Haru's eyes flashed with a hint of something sharp.
"You're supposed to be Nyamuchi, the beauty vlogger, right? Is it really okay to keep your room this messy?"
His remark made the girl's cheeks flush, and she bristled as if someone had poked a sore spot, answering through clenched teeth, "That's none of your business. Besides, I haven't posted any videos recently."
"I know."
Haru didn't seem bothered by the disorder. He found an empty spot and sat down casually. As he looked up his gaze stopped in midair for a moment, then he studied the girl's face with a thoughtful expression.
"It seems you haven't uploaded a new video since a week ago. Ave Mujica's training and performances are paused for now, but I didn't intend to restrict your personal activities."
He glanced at the boxed ramen on the small table, and at the plastic bags nearby containing several different flavors. Those high-calorie convenience foods are the enemy of body fat, it surprised him she'd been eating like that.
Is this giving up a little too far?
"I just don't feel like posting right now," Nyamu said flatly, leaning against the wall and refusing to meet Haru's eyes.
They'd known each other for some time, but Nyamu never revealed anything personal, whether in front of the other Ave Mujica members or in front of Haru. There was always a thick barrier between her and others.
She was the same now, responding with cold indifference.
"So that's all you wanted to say?"
Nyamu, usually passive, suddenly spoke up. This different attitude showed Haru a more genuine side of her, and strangely it made him feel a bit closer to her.
Still, her tone was complicated.
"I just came as Ave Mujica's manager to check on a member's condition," he said.
"Then you don't need to bother, because I've already decided to quit Ave Mujica."
Nyamu folded her arms and said it casually, as if trying to read some reaction from Haru's face. To her disappointment, he merely furrowed his brow slightly, keeping his expression calm.
He was always like that.
No matter what happened he could remain calm and composed, like the steady rhythm he kept when playing drums, always precise to the millisecond. Nyamu couldn't relate to that, not even when her bangs stuck to her forehead with sweat after practicing, or when her arms felt too exhausted to lift.
She bit her lip and a flash of unwillingness crossed her eyes.
A whirlpool of strong emotion swept over her, as if it would swallow her whole.
Haru noticed these subtle changes, and after a moment of silence he asked softly, "First of all, can you tell me why you want to leave the band?"
"Why do I need a reason? I just don't want to continue!"
Nyamu regretted saying it the moment the words left her mouth. What she had said sounded just like when she had once mocked Togawa Sakiko, treating the band like a pretend game of playing house.
Emotions washed over her face, leaving it pale and flushed in turns, and her light pink eyes dimmed.
She must look ridiculous now.
Like a stray cat with its tail stepped on, its fur matted and smeared with mud.
"...Anyway, the band doesn't need me, right?"
Her voice was thin and laced with self-mockery. For a moment she couldn't meet Haru's eyes, then she looked up, tears forming in her gaze. Her pretty face no longer carried that first practiced smile.
He had perfectly taken the place beside the wealthy, scornfully looked-down-on heiress, he was her replacement, and though they were the same age his skills far outstripped hers. She, who worked so hard, felt like an untalented nobody.
He was a more than competent drummer, even compared to a once-famous professional band; Nyamu, who also played drums, knew this better than anyone.
With Kazami around, there was no need for any other drummer.
"Who said we don't need you?" Haru rubbed his temples as if tired, speaking with a hint of helplessness, "Nyamu, are you really thinking I should be your permanent stand-in on drums for the rest of your life?"
The cold, heavy silence that followed shattered.
"..."
Nyamu was momentarily at a loss for words, before Haru continued, "Your band activities have been on pause, but it looks like you've been practicing privately all this time."
He glanced at the bookshelf nearby.
It was filled with books about studying, everything from band technique and music to the entertainment industry. He stood and casually pulled out one of the books, its pages much-thumbed, with notes and bookmarks inside.
"Don't look through my stuff!"
Nyamu, embarrassed and angry, snatched the book back and flung it across the room. Her reaction, furious at being exposed, made her resemble a cornered stray cat.
Despite being tall for a girl her age, she still looked distinctly smaller next to Haru, and the way she puffed and hissed had none of the menace she intended.
Haru lowered his hands and continued to watch her with steady black eyes.
"You actually work harder than anyone in the band, you're just a bit impatient. I want to know why you chose to act like that on stage before."
"What's the use of effort?"
Nyamu finally could not hold back any more. She lifted those diamond-like pink eyes and glared at Haru. Tears blurred her vision, and her voice trembled.
"Everything I can do, you can do better, right? Ave Mujica is fine with you in it, isn't it? If that's the case, why keep pestering me? Are you out of your mind?"
"If it's about paying a contract penalty, I'll pay it all! Just please, don't keep meddling in my affairs!"
Haru watched the emotional collapse before him in silence. Seeing her reddened eyes, he let out a long breath, then, as if he fully understood, he frowned and spoke without gentleness.
"You always call others childish, pretending to be grown up and drinking alone, acting like you're the only mature one. I think you're the one being childish."
"Huh?"
Nyamu widened her eyes in disbelief at what he said.
Before she could retort, Haru took two quick steps forward and, like a machine-gun of words, poured it out at her.
"It's not strange that I can do what you can do."
"I don't just play drums, I compose. I can play keyboard and rhythm guitar well enough to push Mutsumi and Sakiko out of their spots. If I grabbed a bass, even Umiri, that veteran for hire, would have to step down."
"I'm stronger than anyone in Mujica, but so what?"
Haru's scolding left Yuutenji Nyamu speechless. She unconsciously stepped back two paces, realizing only then that maybe this guy wasn't being arrogant. The way he spoke so seriously showed he bore a strong sense of responsibility for his words.
If he didn't actually have that kind of ability, Haru would never have said it aloud.
Just as he had declared, whether it was guitar, bass, drums, keyboard, or composition, he was ahead of anyone in the band. Someone like this could no longer be described with the simple word "genius."
"Yuutenji Nyamu, you still want to change your future through Ave Mujica, don't you?"
"You…"
Nyamu was utterly at a loss for words, unable to come up with any rebuttal.
The first time she had seen him perform drums at Ave Mujica's tour, the overwhelming gap in skill had crushed her, even after all her desperate practice since then. Now that sense of inferiority was twisting into something else.
His talent simply defied reason.
Haru looked at the cat in front of him trying to bury her head into her chest, and he was the first to break the suffocating silence. "The break in band activities is about to end. Starting tomorrow, you'll come to the practice room as usual."
"…I'm not going."
Nyamu's tone was flat and light, as though anything he said went in one ear and out the other.
But just as Nyamu rejected him, Haru continued as if to himself. "Also, you need to clean up this place, and stop eating greasy food like this. It'll wreck your health."
"This, don't eat it."
He casually picked up the instant ramen and tossed it aside. Nyamu finally reacted, biting her lip and speaking coldly, word by word.
"…That was my lunch."
"I know. That's why I'm telling you to eat something else."
He glanced at her fridge. Other than a few bottles of coffee, it contained only pudding and sweets. There was not a trace of vegetables, fruit, or meat.
The corner of his mouth twitched, and he muttered to himself, "Looks just like my place…"
Back in his old single apartment before moving, his fridge had been just as pathetic, but at least he occasionally cooked something decent. Nyamu probably only ate real food when filming videos at restaurants.
"I'll go buy some groceries and make you a proper lunch."
"Before that, Big sis Nyamu-sensei, you should clean up yourself."
With those words, he shut the door behind him. Nyamu glared furiously at his departing back. Turning to her messy room, she could only stomp her foot hard in frustration.
"Who would eat that!"
…
Soon, several plates of delicate dishes were set on the little round table.
Haru untied the nearly new apron he wore. Seeing that the chaotic room had been roughly cleaned, he nodded lightly, the corner of his mouth curving into a faint smile.
"Please eat. Consider it compensation for the lunch I threw away."
Nyamu frowned, still showing displeasure. From the corner of her eye she glanced at the black-haired boy, then shifted her gaze to the table. The food, rich in color, fragrance, and flavor, held her eyes captive.
Who would eat something like this?
She, Nyamuchi, would rather jump from the top floor of the apartment building, starve to death right here, than eat a single bite from that bastard Kazami-kun!
Gulp.
Maybe it was because she had been living on greasy instant food these days, but the moment Haru's cooking was laid out before her, she swallowed unconsciously. Just recalling the taste from before made her tongue water.
"…I'm starting."
After one tentative bite, her chopsticks could no longer stop.
Watching her eat hungrily, shoveling rice and dishes into her mouth, Haru propped his chin on one hand with a satisfied smirk. Nyamu noticed his expression, but she had no way to retort.
"…."
As she chewed rice and vegetables, memories stirred of the first time she had gone to Haru's place. Back then, she had just tagged along with Misumi Uika, and it was her first taste of his cooking. But today felt completely different. Warmth spread through her stomach, and her eyes brimmed with moisture she couldn't control.
"Slow down," he said, handing her a bottle of soda water. She took it without a thought and gulped it down without restraint, showing none of the poise of a beauty vlogger. But this unguarded side of her was more approachable, less distant than before.
"Living alone is a bit inconvenient. If you don't want instant food, come to my place for meals. It's just another pair of chopsticks. But you'll have to pay your share of the groceries."
"Weren't you living alone before too?"
Her question caught Haru off guard. He rested his chin lightly on a finger and nodded thoughtfully.
"Exactly. That's why I said it."
"…."
She bit her lip and kept shoveling food into her mouth, head lowered.
With his words, it was as if every other sound had vanished, leaving only the crisp clatter of chopsticks against porcelain.
"To you, maybe we're just colleagues. But to me, it's not that simple. No matter what, we're still bandmates. Even if we're not particularly close, at the very least we're 'friends,' aren't we?"
She gave no reply.
Haru looked at the girl, eyes misted with tears as she kept eating. He slowly stood up, deciding to leave the rest of the time to her. He had done what he could, and he would respect her choice in the end.
But just as he was about to leave, her voice came from behind.
"…Weren't you going to ask me why I'm so obsessed with fame and fortune?"
"No need."
Haru only chuckled and shook his head, lifting the garbage bags already tied up by the door.
"You probably had your reasons for keeping quiet before. I don't intend to pry into someone else's private matters. Everyone has things they want to do. You have your own plans, and that's normal."
"What I said earlier still stands. Come to the practice room if you want."
"If you decide to quit the band, just send me a message."
The soft clang of the iron door echoed in her ears. Sitting at the small table, Nyamu bit her lip hard, then sank her teeth into the food with all her strength, as if it were his face she was tearing apart.