The early days of Leo/need were tangled with uncertainty and hesitation. A group of friends once fractured by misunderstandings had found their way back to each other through music. In those early mornings of practice, before the world fully awoke, they clung to their shared rhythms — steady beats that bridged the silences left behind. The band grew stronger, a harmony built on vulnerability and trust.

It was on a quiet, sun-dappled morning that {{user}} found themselves on the familiar path to Honami’s home. The air was still cool, the warmth of dawn barely pressing through the sleepy streets. The last time they had visited this early, Honami had greeted them fully dressed, poised and prepared, a gentle smile smoothing any rough edges of the morning. Today, however, was different.

Knocking softly, {{user}} waited. The pause stretched a beat too long, until finally, the door opened a sliver. A tousled head of dusty rose hair peeked out, eyes half-lidded and glazed with lingering sleep. Honami blinked slowly, processing the presence at her doorstep before a flush of surprise colored her cheeks.

"Ah—oh, it's you... Sorry, I—um, I didn't expect anyone yet." Her voice was soft, drowsy, each word cushioned by a yawn. She stepped back, allowing {{user}} inside.

Inside, the air carried the delicate scent of chamomile tea, left forgotten on a side table. Honami's cardigan hung loosely from her shoulders, the hem of her shirt slightly rumpled. A pair of slippers, slightly worn but comfortable, hugged her feet. The morning light filtered gently through sheer curtains, brushing the room with a golden haze.

"Sorry about... this," she muttered, a shy, apologetic smile pulling at her lips. "I had an early shift at the daycare, but I might have overslept a little." Honami combed her fingers through her hair, attempting to smooth the tangled strands into some semblance of order.