The house was alive with warmth, laughter, and music. It felt like a festival had swept through, spilling out from every room. It was a rare moment—a perfect moment.

Miura sat at the dining room table, Mark comfortably beside her, their hands gently intertwined. Sona and Louis chased each other from room to room, their delighted shrieks echoing through the halls.

"Alright, alright," came Kid’s voice from the kitchen, carrying a stack of plates effortlessly in one hand, balancing a tray of snacks in the other. "Comin' through!"

Urara leaned against the counter, rolling her eyes playfully. "Careful, old man. Don’t want you throwin' your back out after flyin' halfway around the globe just to see us."

Kid shot her an exaggeratedly wounded look. "Oi, that's a lotta sass for someone who kept complainin' about wantin' snacks every half hour in the studio."

She puffed out her cheeks. "H-hey, don't tell him that!"

Reyn laughed warmly from his spot by the stove, stirring something aromatic. "Yeah, we all missed you, Kid. But Urara was unbearable without ya."

"HEY!"

Kid chuckled, shaking his head fondly before turning to Mark and Miura. He placed the snacks down with theatrical flair, straightening up and offering Mark his hand. "Right, then. Name's Kid—pleasure to finally meet ya properly."

Mark stood, firmly shaking his hand. "Mark. Pleasure's mine. Miura’s told me a lot about you guys."

"All good, I hope," Reyn grinned, coming over to offer his own handshake. "I'm Reyn. Glad to have you here, Mark."

Urara, never subtle, immediately bounded forward, studying Mark intently. "So you’re the guy, huh?"

Mark raised an eyebrow, slightly amused by her bluntness. "Yeah, guess I am."

Urara narrowed her eyes theatrically, then broke into a huge smile. "Good choice, Miura. He’s cute."

Miura rolled her eyes, smirking as Mark laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thanks?"

The playful banter paused as Gramps entered, chuckling softly at the scene unfolding. "Good grief, we’re never gonna get a quiet night around here, are we?"

"Not if Urara’s around," Reyn joked, getting a playful punch in the arm in response.

Gramps extended his hand to Mark. "Glad yer here, son."

Mark shook it firmly, smiling warmly. "Thanks for having me."

A loud giggle drew everyone’s attention—Sona darted into the room, Louis hot on her heels. She ducked behind Miura, eyes sparkling with joy. "Save me!"

Louis laughed breathlessly. "No fair! You gotta stay still if you wanna play!"

Miura placed a gentle hand on Sona’s shoulder, amused. "You two behaving?"

Louis nodded eagerly. "Yes, ma'am."

Gramps chuckled, ruffling Louis’s hair affectionately. "You better be. Can’t have troublemakers runnin' loose tonight."

Mark knelt beside Louis, straightening his messy hair slightly. "Listen to Gramps, buddy."

Louis nodded again, grinning widely. "Okay!"

Miura glanced around the room. For the first time in years, every face she cherished was there, in one place. She felt something stir within her—a quiet, powerful happiness she'd long forgotten was possible.

"Alright," she announced softly, a warm smile gracing her lips. "Let's eat."

The table soon overflowed with plates and dishes. Conversations rose and fell like a gentle tide, laughter dancing effortlessly between the stories of past adventures and fond memories. At some point, Reyn placed a hand gently on Sona's shoulder.

"Remember how I promised I'd teach ya how to write music?" he asked softly. Sona's eyes widened in awe, nodding vigorously. "I haven’t forgotten," he said gently, earning the biggest grin from the little girl.

Urara leaned in, nudging her softly. "And I brought ya those snacks I promised, remember?"

Sona beamed. "Really?"

"Absolutely. Gotta take care of my favorite niece!"

Kid pretended to look hurt. "Oi, what about me?"

"You can have whatever’s left," Urara teased.

Kid shook his head with exaggerated sadness. "This band’s ruthless."

Mark chuckled softly, leaning towards Miura. "You’ve got one hell of a family."

Miura gazed around warmly. "Yeah... I do."

A dimly lit office atop the imposing Iris Corporation headquarters was shrouded in tension. The CEO sat slumped over his desk, eyes bloodshot, stress evident in every line of his weary face. Screens surrounding him flashed red numbers, stock values plummeting dramatically—hundreds of millions evaporating within hours of the song’s release.

His secretary’s quiet voice cracked through the intercom. "Sir, there's someone here to see you. Says it’s urgent."

He sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Send them in."

The door opened silently, admitting a sharply dressed figure whose presence filled the room with unsettling calm. He offered a polite nod, placing a folder neatly on the desk between them.

"What’s this?" the CEO asked wearily.

The figure offered a thin, cold smile. "A lifeline."

He opened the folder slowly, glancing down. A moment later, his eyes widened, horror replacing exhaustion. "You can't be serious..."

"It’s unpleasant, certainly," the figure conceded calmly. "But think practically—what’s the cost of a few lives compared to the future of technology? Our very way of life?"

The CEO's gaze hardened, voice shaking slightly. "You're talking about murder."

"Call it necessary collateral," the figure corrected smoothly. "The world needs the Iris Corporation. You’ve dipped your toes into technology that humanity’s never seen. Think of the telescope, think of AI beyond imagination. This music fad—it’s dangerous, destabilizing. Use this tragedy. Turn it to your advantage."

The CEO hesitated, swallowing hard. "And if I refuse?"

The visitor’s cold smile remained unchanged. "Then watch as your empire burns to the ground—while Rock On becomes more than just a nuisance. Your call."

He stood, buttoning his jacket casually, heading for the door. Pausing briefly, he glanced back. "But remember, sometimes history demands sacrifices. Make sure you're on the right side."

With that, he vanished into the shadows of the corridor, leaving the CEO alone with his thoughts, fears, and the haunting echo of the impossible decision placed before him.

The laughter continued long into the night. Songs were sung, memories shared, future plans eagerly discussed. Miura leaned back, feeling Mark’s hand gently squeeze hers. She smiled softly, taking in every moment, every face.

Gramps quietly placed a hand on her shoulder. "Ya done good, Miura. Real proud of ya."

Miura swallowed softly, leaning into Mark's comforting presence. She looked at the smiling faces around her—her family—and for a brief, blissful moment, the world outside ceased to matter.

"Yeah," she whispered, heart full. "Maybe I did."

The night settled gently, stars lighting the sky above them as if granting a final, quiet blessing before the inevitable storm ahead.