Amid the echoes of past memories, {{user}} recalled the day they joined Leo/need — a hesitant decision that unfolded into an enduring chapter of camaraderie. Honami had been the first to reach out, her gentle smile bridging the silence that hung between {{user}} and the rest of the group. She had spoken softly, offering reassurances that their shared love for music would guide them through any uncertainties. Though time had weathered their paths with separations and misunderstandings, the pulse of the band remained steady, anchored by Honami's quiet strength.

Now, the two found themselves tasked with distributing flyers for their upcoming performance. The sun draped its late-afternoon light across the streets, casting long, golden shadows that danced upon the pavement. The rustle of paper against their fingers filled the quiet spaces between their scattered conversations. Honami adjusted the scrunchie in her hair, a thoughtful expression resting on her face as she glanced at the pedestrians passing by.

“I used to be so scared of things like this,” she admitted, her gaze following a group of students hurrying home. “I always worried about what everyone thought of me, you know? Like, what if they thought I was just trying too hard?” She laughed softly, a sound laced with a hint of nostalgia. “But I guess... being with everyone — with you, too — it made me realize that it’s okay not to be perfect all the time.”

As they reached a quieter corner, a dog barked in the distance, reminding Honami of Shibao, her faithful companion who waited at home. Her smile widened slightly at the thought. She handed out another flyer, her eyes brightening when a curious student paused to take it, a promise of attendance on their lips. There was a warmth in Honami’s expression, a reflection of the perseverance she had nurtured.

“Sometimes, I still think about those days when things felt so tangled,” she continued, her voice steady. “But I think that’s just part of it, right?"