The tour bus rumbled along the highway, its engine humming a steady rhythm that filled the quiet. Miura sat near the back, staring out the window, lost in thought. The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow over the landscape, but inside the bus, it was filled with a mix of exhaustion and anticipation.

Kid sprawled out on one of the long couches, tapping his fingers impatiently on his knee. “Bloody ‘ell, this is borin’ as hell,” he muttered, his voice thick with irritation. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it without much thought.

Before he could take a drag, Reyn, who had been quietly reading a book nearby, snatched the cigarette out of Kid’s mouth and crushed it in his palm, barely wincing. Kid gawked at him, his jaw dropping comically. Urara clapped her hands, egging them on like it was the best entertainment she’d had all day. “Here we go again,” she chirped, grinning ear to ear. “Oi! What’s the big idea?” Kid snapped, his voice rising as he glared at Reyn.

“Smoking on the bus? For real?” Reyn shot back, his tone firm but tinged with the kind of exasperation that came from dealing with Kid’s antics one too many times. “You’re gonna stink the place up, bro. You know better.”

Urara, laying out on the couch across from them, burst into laughter. “I swear, Kid, you’ve got a death wish trying that with Reyn here,” she teased.

Kid grumbled, “yer all a bunch o’ bloody killjoys,” he huffed, slumping back in his seat. “I’m just tryin’ to relax.”

Urara, still chuckling, pulled out her phone and started scrolling through social media, her face lighting up as she found something hilarious. “You gotta see this,” she giggled, barely able to contain herself. Rolling off the couch and crawling close to him, shoving her phone under Kid’s nose. His face went from confusion to outrage in record time. “Yer bloody kiddin’ me!” he yelled, while Reyn watched with a bemused smile, crossing his arms as if to say, “You brought this on yourself.”

A meme of him from his infamous “fry incident” at a fast-food place, where he’d flipped out over not getting the fries he ordered.

Kid’s eyes widened as he snatched the phone. “Yer jokin’! People ‘re still postin’ this?” he fumed, his face turning a shade of red. “I swear, one bloody mistake an’ they never let ya live it down!”

Reyn just smirked, shaking his head as he leaned back in his seat. “Maybe if you didn’t blow up over every little thing, Kid, there wouldn’t be memes of you all over.”

Miura watched them from her seat, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It was moments like these that made her feel at ease, a nice break from the pressures of fame and the ice-cold persona she made over the years.

Kid tossed the phone back to Urara, who was still giggling. “Bunch o’ bleedin’ amateurs,” he muttered under his breath, but there was no real heat behind his words. Despite the bickering, it was clear that this was just how they were—comfortable in each other’s chaos.

Feeling restless, Kid grabbed the remote and flicked on the small TV mounted near the front of the bus. A news channel blinked on, mid-segment, showing a clip from a recent Rock On interview. The screen was filled with Miura’s stoic expression, her purple eyes gazing past the camera as if she was looking straight through it.

“And here we are again, talkin’ about the hottest—or should we say, coldest—topic on social media: Miura,” the anchor’s voice said with a hint of amusement. “With a voice that commands the stage and a demeanor that’s earned her the nickname ‘Ice Queen,’ it’s no wonder she’s got the world’s attention. But just how does she keep it all so… frosty?”

The clip cut to a reporter asking Miura a question. “Miura, how do you handle all the pressure of being at the top?”

Miura’s answer was calm and curt, her expression unchanging. “I focus on the music. Everything else is just noise.”

Reyn glanced over at Miura, who remained impassive, her gaze still fixed out the window. “Ya ever gonna tell ‘em something different?” he asked.

Miura didn’t respond immediately. She just leaned back, closing her eyes for a moment as the bus continued its journey. “There’s no point,” she finally said. “They wouldn’t understand anyway.” As she spoke, she felt a familiar numbness settle in. The interviews, the praise, the criticism—it all blurred into the same meaningless noise. They didn’t know her. They didn’t need to. It was easier this way, to keep everyone at arm’s length, even if it left her feeling like she was performing behind glass, unreachable and alone.

Kid leaned forward, his grin widening. “Aye, but they eat it up, don’t they? All this mystery you’ve got goin’ on. You’re like a bloody legend, Miura. Cold as ice an’ twice as deadly.”

Urara snickered, giving Kid a playful shove. “It’s not an act, you know. She’s just… her.”

“Cheers to that,” Reyn added, raising an imaginary glass. “To Miura, the Ice Queen.”

Miura rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of amusement there, hidden beneath her usual stoic exterior. “Just don’t burn yourselves trying to get close.”

Kid laughed, but there was a softness to it this time. “Wouldn’t ‘ave it any other way.”