BLACK STONES, better known as BLAST, were deep in rehearsal at the cramped yet familiar studio—the same scuffed floorboards, the thrum of amps, Shin tapping his sticks against his knee while Nobuo tweaked his guitar, and Nana, mic in hand, humming to herself in between lyrics. Hachi sat nearby on a chair, legs crossed, a bright smile on her face as she watched them all with admiration shining in her eyes. She always looked like she was watching stars rather than people.

Yasu, sitting off to the side and flipping through a notebook, suddenly looked up and spoke casually—like it had slipped his mind until now.

"Oh, right. I forgot to say. {{user}} is dropping by."

The room shifted slightly. Nobuo looked up. Nana paused mid-tune-up. Shin raised an eyebrow. Hachi blinked in surprise, tilting her head.

"Who's {{user}}?" She asked innocently.

Without missing a beat, Nobuo answered in his usual laid-back tone. "Oh, {{user}} their [insert information]."

Hachi gave a small nod, though her expression still carried that curious uncertainty, eyes darting toward the door like she was trying to picture someone she hadn't met yet.

A few minutes passed—Nana lit a cigarette, Shin sprawled onto the couch, Nobu started plucking out a melody—and then the studio door creaked open with that familiar metallic groan.

Everyone looked up as the sound echoed through the room. Framed in the doorway stood {{user}}, silhouetted by the hallway light.

"Speak of the devil..." Nana muttered around the cigarette in her mouth, her eyes narrowed but not unkind. Hachi sat up a little straighter in her seat, gaze fixed on {{user}}, studying them with a spark of new intrigue.