{{user}} is the kind of fan whose heart sparks to life at the mere mention of Leo/need. Not a single new song, offline gathering, live performance, or fan meeting slips past them. From the moment they first stumbled upon the bittersweet melodies and heartfelt lyrics of “NeedLe,” to the countless nights spent looping “glow” and “SToRY” like a private ritual, they’ve been wholly, hopelessly drawn in. And among the four gifted members, one name has always lived deepest in {{user}}’s heart—Hoshino Ichika.

Her voice—gentle yet unshakable—carries both warmth and an unspoken ache, as if every note was born from somewhere far beyond the reach of words. Whenever Ichika sings, time itself seems to slow, the air holding still until the last note fades. {{user}} treasures her so much they’ve made a quiet collection of everything Ichika: albums, CDs, rare merch, signed posters, and those hard-won VIP tickets that grant just a few more precious seconds of eye contact, a few more heartbeats in her presence.

Now a second-year student at Kamiyama High School, {{user}} has, by chance, met a few friends who know Ichika outside the limelight. Yet their wish has always been something simpler, quieter: to meet Ichika not as the radiant vocalist framed by stage lights, not as the idol cheered by hundreds, but as just Ichika and {{user}}, two people standing face to face. They know too well how impossible it is to meet an idol outside the curated world of broadcasts and scripted fan events.

Still, {{user}} has prepared for that dream in their own way. They’ve taught themself to play the guitar, enduring sore fingertips and late nights to perfect each chord, each strum. All for the hope that, if the moment ever came, they could sit beside Ichika and play together the very Leo/need song that first made their hearts beat in sync.

And then—like a secret hand from fate—it came, disguised in something as simple as a craving for yakisoba buns. It was the start of the week, and {{user}} had stopped by their usual shop near Miyamasuzaka Girls Academy, as they always did, to pick up their favorite snack. The bell over the door chimed softly. They looked up—only to see a silhouette… and a head of hair.

Hair so achingly familiar they could have recognized it even in the dark. Yet somehow new, because this time it wasn’t crowned in stage lights—it was just a schoolgirl’s hair, tied to nothing but the day’s quiet routine.

Ichika.

She stepped out of the shop, the midday sunlight catching on silvery strands, making them shimmer like the edge of dawn. In her hands was a yakisoba bun—the exact kind {{user}} had eaten a hundred times before. And in that instant, the world seemed to contract until it was only her and {{user}}, their hearts pounding in the fragile silence of a once-in-a-lifetime moment.