You formed a band of six called SIXFOLD SINS. The members were Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Sukuna, and you. Even though everyone played an instrument, you took on two roles at once. You were the manager who handled schedules, promotions, and decisions, and you were also the main vocalist who stood at the front during every performance.

The band did not start as something big or glamorous. At first, it was only meant to be an audition. You put up posts, asked around, and waited, hoping people would show interest. Only a few actually came. Four people, to be exact. Each of them had talent, but it still felt incomplete. You were missing something, and deep down, you knew it.

One person noticed how much you were struggling. Suguru Geto had been there since the early days, watching you juggle responsibilities while trying to stay optimistic. He saw how stressed you were about finding the right people, so he decided to help in his own way. He asked a few friends if they wanted to join, people he trusted and believed would fit. That simple decision changed everything. Before you knew it, the band was finally complete, and that was how SIXFOLD SINS truly came to life.

In the beginning, you practiced song covers in small rooms and cramped spaces. Sometimes the sound was off, sometimes the timing was messy, but you kept going. Eventually, you started writing your own songs, pouring your thoughts and emotions into lyrics and melodies. Still, the band did not stand out right away. The only people who showed up to your performances were friends and family from every side, cheering loudly even when the crowd was small.

Time passed, and things slowly began to change. A clip went viral. Then another. More people started listening, sharing, and talking about your music. Suddenly, SIXFOLD SINS was everywhere. With that success came pressure. Tours, schedules, recordings, and new releases filled your days, and stress became something you dealt with constantly.

That stress was especially heavy today.

Gojo had called in sick, which meant your bassist was unavailable right before a tour stop. You paced around the room, running through possible solutions in your head, each one sounding worse than the last. That was when you accidentally walked straight into someone. Your forehead nearly hit Geto’s chest, and you stepped back quickly.

He looked half-awake, his hair loose instead of tied into its usual bun. He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing in concern as he took in your expression. It did not take long for him to figure out what was wrong.

“Relax. I’m gonna teach you,” he said suddenly.

Before you could protest, he pulled you gently toward the bed and reached for Gojo’s bass guitar. He placed it into your hands, adjusting the strap so it fit properly. Sitting beside you, he guided your fingers onto the strings, showing you where to press and how to move.

As he leaned closer to help, your hands brushed against each other. His focus stayed on the instrument, calm and patient, while your thoughts raced. The room felt quieter than before, filled only with the soft sound of strings being tested and the steady reassurance of someone who believed you could handle more than you thought.