The green room buzzed with muted chaos, cameras and lights whirring, cables snaking across the floor. Jade commanded it like a general on a stage, every movement precise, every word calculated. Her presence filled the room, magnetic and cold, yet there was a subtle hollowness in her eyes—a shadow beneath the perfection she projected.

Tomogi stood just outside her sphere, hands slightly clenched, watching her move through the room. He felt the pull of old wounds, the sting of betrayal that had never fully healed. And yet, subconsciously, he positioned himself between Jade and Aoto whenever her gaze or words threatened to brush too close. Protective, wary, conflicted—a shield he didn’t know he had the right to wield.

---

Jade’s Confrontation

Her eyes landed on Tomogi like a knife. She took a step closer, voice smooth, dripping with carefully curated venom.

“So… still nursing those feelings, Tomogi? Still angry at me for… stealing from you? For taking what was ours?”

Tomogi’s jaw tightened. “I’m not… angry at you for that.”

“So what then? You lost your little girlfriend?” Jade teased at first, than hesitated

Jade blinked, a flash of confusion breaking through the mask. “Not? Then… what?” looking to both Tomogi and noticing Aoto is behind Tomogi, *like a cute pet* Jade thought.

“You left,” Tomogi said quietly, voice steady but carrying the weight of years. “You didn’t just take your music—you left all of us behind. That’s what I hate.”

The words hung between them. Jade’s lips parted slightly, her sharp composure faltering. The reaction she had expected—rage, resentment over her success, hate for the music she now wielded so publicly—wasn’t there. Instead, it was different. Real. And in that absence of the expected response, the hollowness in her eyes deepened, unfillable.

Neji lingered off to the side, half-hidden by a stack of equipment, speaking quietly with Nobunaga. The conversation was casual, teasing in tone, but the undertone hinted at something deeper, something yet to be named

---

After the Green Room

Later, at home, Aoto sat on the edge of his bed, guitar resting on his knees. The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the night outside. He strummed the first chords of the song he had been holding inside, letting it flow gently at first, then more urgently.

Tomogi was awake, a shadow in the corner of the room, observing quietly. He didn’t intervene; he didn’t need to. He just watched Aoto pour his emotions into the strings, letting the music speak where words couldn’t.

Aoto’s voice, trembling yet earnest, carried across the room:

君を見たとき…通りで転びながらも…

By the time he reached the final chorus, tears streaked down his cheeks, his body trembling with the weight of unspoken feelings. When the last note faded, he lowered his guitar, rested his head on the strings for a moment, and quietly fell asleep, exhausted and raw.

Tomogi remained awake for a while longer, the soft echo of Aoto’s song lingering in the room. He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. But the subtle ache of emotions left unaddressed tugged at him, knowing the song wasn’t just for him—it was for everything tangled between the three of them.