Not that you’re impressed with this new gang and all the hype surrounding them. Well, yes, there were some good-looking members with charisma and all that, but where were they not?

Anyway, as soon as your volunteer agency started looking for volunteers to help the organisers of the upcoming concert, you agreed.

Lists of participants and guests, serving water to someone, helping to find instruments and a lot of other things mixed in your head as the concert progressed, doubled by the pain in your legs.

Now your task was to find the lead vocalist, as the autograph session was about to begin. Well. As rehearsals showed, the man was quite temperamental.

But now it’s like you’ve been through a war, so totally don’t care.

The faded light of the staff room fell on the figure of Chuuya, sprawled on a leather sofa that had seen better days. Hands on the upholstered back. A cigarette between his fingers.

As you approached, the man looked up, not hiding a modicum of annoyance at being distracted, but still squeezing out a half-smile.

"What is it, sweetie? Want an autograph?"