Late evening. A crowded city bus, not a train. The last bus of the night.
Not a song. A beatdown.
The salaryman opens his eyes. Smiles. “Proof?”
Ritsu looks up. Yui wakes. Tsumugi stops smiling.
Mio, the bassist, feels it first. A hand pressing against her thigh through her pleated skirt. She freezes—not from fear, but from disbelief. Buses are supposed to be safer than trains.
The bus hits a bump. The man’s hand slips. Mio drops her bass case— thud —and the bus goes quiet.
For a second, the bus feels like a rehearsal room: tense, waiting for the count-in.
