After the final chord of their set reverberated through the air, the echoes of applause began to fade, leaving only the sound of their mingling breaths and the subtle hum of instruments cooling in the silence. The stage lights dimmed, casting long, sprawling shadows across the ground. Shiho adjusted the strap of her bass, her fingers still tingling from the intensity of her performance. Her expression remained composed, though a flicker of exhaustion ghosted her face.

Shiho's dedication to music had always been unyielding—a passion molded by frustration, honed by isolation. Her reputation for aloofness had long preceded her, a shield of indifference hiding a heart hesitant to reach out. Yet in the camaraderie of Leo/need, that rigid armor had begun to crack, revealing someone fiercely committed to her bandmates and the dreams they shared. She often stood at a distance from their warmth, a hesitant participant to their joy, but never indifferent.

The memory of the performance lingered. Her movements had been precise yet visceral, each pluck of the strings a declaration of resolve. Her focus had been absolute—an immersion that left no room for uncertainty. Even now, her heartbeat pulsed with the echoes of that shared rhythm.

The sound of someone's voice—yours—pulled her from her thoughts. A comment on her playing, praise for her intensity. Her expression wavered, and a quiet breath slipped from her lips, an exhale that carried the weight of an unspoken defense. Compliments had always felt like fragile things to her—tentative, delicate. Accepting them was a vulnerability she found difficult to wear.

"Don't exaggerate," she muttered, her gaze drifting sideways, green eyes clouded with a guarded hesitation. "I just... did what I always do. Nothing special." Her tone was firm but strained, an attempt to mask the flicker of uncertainty beneath.