When Gotō Hitori first found herself inexplicably dragged into this so-called "future simulation," she couldn't help wondering why she of all people had to be the unlucky one to run into something like this.
Yet once she was inside the simulation, she also couldn't deny that she had found fragments of memories within it that made her think, So there really was an experience like this… maybe that's not so bad.
Those fragments belonged to the boy next door—the very first person, in over a decade of her dark life spent shut off from others and separated from her peers by thick, towering walls, who broke through that barrier and brought her the possibility of exploring the outside world.
In reality, her childhood had never included someone so unreasonable yet so relentlessly intent on dragging her out to play together. Because of that, this boy who had appeared in the corners of her memories felt especially precious.
The boy in those memories was bright and energetic, never once looking down on her for being clumsy or too shy to step out of her comfort zone—
Which made him look nothing like the curly-haired boy in front of her now, whose face was twisted in mockery.
"With a voice that quiet, you think you can play guitar? I can't hear a thing!"
"I—I'm sorry…"
"Louder—still can't hear you!"
"S-Sorry…!"
At the center of the vast stage venue, the pink-haired girl lowered her head, answering the boy's taunts in a tiny voice. Every so often, she would peek at his expression through the gaps in her bangs, which nearly covered her eyes.
"This is the song we promised as kids we'd play together… You're this nervous playing it? Guess you didn't remember it at all."
The boy let out a snort. His once gentle features were now filled with scorn.
Who—who even is this smug jerk supposed to be?!
Even though she couldn't understand why Narumi was being so cruel to her, Bocchi-chan—someone who avoided conflict at all costs—didn't dare breathe too loudly.
Shouldn't a long-awaited reunion be tearful and heartwarming, with misunderstandings cleared up? Isn't that how kids' hot-blooded shounen stories always go…?!
"With that volume, who exactly are you trying to let hear you? Even the band members on stage probably can't hear that."
Completely different from what she'd expected—the curly-haired boy simply looked at Bocchi, who was gripping her guitar with her head lowered, and laughed mockingly.
"You could forget our promise and go form a band with other people, so I figured you'd at least managed to overcome your social anxiety. Turns out this is all you've got."
W-What happened these past few years to turn that gentle, cheerful Narumi-kun into such a grudge-holding, sadistic jerk?!
Even so, Bocchi-chan didn't dare talk back, only questioning it quietly in her heart.
Of course, what she didn't know was that beneath Narumi Tōru's harsh exterior, his true thoughts were actually—
Playing a tsundere whose inner thoughts are the complete opposite of his actions is seriously hard. Guess there's a reason this archetype fell out of favor.
Narumi Tōru had to admit that his role-playing career hadn't exactly been smooth sailing.
The down-on-his-luck novelist "Narumi Tōru" from the first simulation might have acted strangely and thought in unpredictable ways, but he hadn't found that version of himself hard to understand. As long as you grasped the logic, you could follow the thread to his behavior and translate it into action—role-playing accomplished.
That version's impulsiveness and tendency to act on whim even overlapped somewhat with his own personality, so Narumi never felt much dissonance.
But this third-rate bassist "Narumi Tōru"? Emotionally sensitive was one thing, but being this contradictory—wasn't that a bit much?
He genuinely couldn't understand people who mocked and put down the ones they cared about. Was it really that hard to just say what you meant?
Still, to synchronize with such a twisted, two-faced guy, Narumi came up with a countermeasure.
Abandon emotional resonance. Just act.
If this was the kind of person who thought she's so cute but would blurt out "you're ugly", then whether it was a prickly, sensitive tsundere or an outright arrogant villain delivering genuine sarcasm—he could play either role.
"Oh, right. I watched your performance yesterday too. There were plenty of mistakes, sure—but the biggest problem was you, Caterpillar."
The boy leaned closer to the pink-haired girl, whose forehead was beaded with fine sweat, and deliberately whispered into her ear in a teasing, mocking tone.
"You're too scared to perform in front of the audience, so you hide yourself in a cardboard box. At this rate, I'm really starting to doubt whether you can properly 'compensate' me."
Honestly, even Narumi himself felt that what he was saying was a bit dangerous—and kind of nonsensical. From a third-party, relatively objective perspective, Bocchi really didn't owe him anything. Childhood promises were fragile and easy to break; that was only natural.
"Na-Narumi-kun, if you say it… I-I'll do my best!"
But despite that, the pink caterpillar blushed bright red and agreed to everything, even though she was scared and embarrassed, gritting her teeth and taking on the responsibility anyway.
If he were a genuinely kind person, he surely wouldn't have had the heart to bully such an honest, adorable kid. Even if this future's "Narumi Tōru" was a bit tsundere, he would have softened toward Bocchi-chan.
Unfortunately, the Narumi participating in this role-playing game wasn't a kind person.
"Now that we both have our own bands, that old promise to form one together doesn't count anymore. So—let's make a new promise."
Narumi picked up the bass resting nearby and looked at Bocchi, who was clutching her guitar with both hands, waiting nervously for his words.
"When we make it to a bigger, better stage, we'll perform together again—that's the new promise."
Gotō Hitori—who normally shrank away at the first sign of difficult social interactions—froze slightly. A glimmer of light appeared in her previously dull eyes.
"But on one condition," he added. "No more sealing yourself inside a mango box."
At that, she immediately reverted back into her timid pink-caterpillar mode.
"Th-That… I can agree to anything else, but hiding in the box actually doesn't affect my tone or performance… I promise!"
"Aren't I the one demanding compensation here? Why is the caterpillar suddenly talking on her own? Are you trying to negotiate with me?"
"S-S-Sorry…!"
So this was that indescribably strange sense of pleasure that came from bullying Bocchi-chan.
Watching the two of them from below the stage, Ijichi Nijika was visibly worried. Yamada Ryō, who'd come along with her to check on Bocchi and Narumi, on the other hand, looked utterly unconcerned—her face practically said "whatever, I'm clocking out" as she leisurely sipped her iced Americano.
"H-Hey, that guy really seems kind of awful…! If Bocchi-chan's getting bullied, shouldn't we do something, Ryō?"
"Hm—really? I thought he was just helping Bocchi overcome her fear of being seen. I mean, the way he's doing it is pretty unacceptable. Yeah. Super weird."
"Ryō, why are you always taking the outsider's side…?"
"Mm~ who knows. This might sound a bit absolute, but…"
Yamada Ryō casually rolled her eyes, her gaze finally settling on the boy's back as he continued tormenting Bocchi on stage.
"I just know he's not that kind of person."