"Good morning, everyone."
"This is Myamu, Myamu, Myamu~"
"Today, I'm in Enoshima."
A woman with a selfie stick, dressed maturely and alluringly, spoke to her phone camera.
Her free hand made a cat-paw gesture.
Yutenji Nyomu, unfazed by tourists' stares, was used to this.
Yutenji Nyomu, beauty vlogger, online name Myamu.
Small following on video platforms, about two Guitar Heroes' worth of subscribers.
Focused on cosmetics and makeup, recently exploring other content.
Enoshima was trending; Myamu came for material, to ride the wave.
After filming her greeting, she surveyed her surroundings.
Her eyes lit up.
"Oh, my?"
"What's this?"
She muttered, pointing her camera.
Four girls, one boy, with instruments—Hotaru and End Band.
Myamu recorded again.
"Look here, everyone."
"A band, right?"
"Young, probably students."
"Myamu's young too, oops, off-topic."
Her tone shifted, sly smile.
"One boy, four girls, odd band setup."
"Could it be…"
She chuckled, "Rock and roll?"
Myamu planned her video title.
Four unique girls, one handsome boy.
A trending band gimmick.
Traffic goldmine.
She muttered, "I'll do a giveaway. Guess my instrument, win lipsticks."
Giveaways boost engagement, ads, promotions.
Most participants are bots, but they join anyway.
As Myamu dreamed of soaring followers and cash, a tap on her shoulder.
She frowned, turned, met Hotaru's scrutinizing gaze.
He approached under End Band's curious, puzzled looks.
Their eyes met.
Myamu showed surprise, embarrassment, quickly hid it.
Small fry.
Hotaru was surprised; her face resembled Tomori's, but height and hair differed.
Seeing Hotaru dazed, Myamu spoke first:
"What's wrong, sir?"
"You were filming…"
"Wait! Let me guess."
Myamu interrupted.
"Hmph, stunned by my beauty?"
"Sorry, no dating plans."
She sighed regretfully.
"Not at all," Hotaru replied calmly.
"Really not?"
"Too narcissistic?"
"Underestimating Myamu, I have…"
Myamu nearly revealed her identity.
"Don't interrupt." Hotaru rolled his eyes. "You filmed us, right?"
"You saw wrong."
"No, my companions saw."
Hotaru pointed at End Band.
The blonde and redhead waved.
"Your selfie stick's still aimed where I came from."
"Haha, is it?" Myamu laughed awkwardly, lowered it.
"Delete the parts with us."
"Well…"
Myamu tried to dodge.
"No objections, right?"
"I… object!"
"Hm?"
Hotaru grunted.
She dared object.
"Need me to cite Tokyo's 'Public Order Management Punishment Act' and 'Citizen Privacy Protection Act'?"
"Eh?"
Myamu's eyes widened.
Tough guy.
"I'll blur your faces, okay?" she negotiated.
She planned to anyway.
Despite using them for traffic, she had ethics.
"No."
Hotaru shook his head.
"Why so decisive!"
Myamu protested.
"Don't trust you."
"Where's human trust?"
"Who knows what weird title you'll use."
"How'd you know?"
Myamu was shocked.
"As expected." Hotaru sniffed. "Smell."
"Smell?"
Myamu tilted her head, sniffed her arm.
None. High-end perfume.
"Decaying money smell."
Hotaru smiled.
"Ha!"
"Hand it over."
Hotaru held out his hand.
Myamu reluctantly gave her phone.
Hotaru deleted their footage, tossed it back.
"Careful!"
Myamu complained, about to scold him.
But Hotaru was gone.
...
Back with End Band, Hotaru faced playful, curious, puzzled, nervous looks.
"What's wrong?"
He knew their question.
Nijika smiled, teased, "Aki-kun's the type to chase girls he likes."
Misunderstood as flirting?
"No, not at all," Hotaru retorted.
Nijika and Ikuyo exchanged skeptical glances.
Ryo, eating salted ice cream, said:
"Unacceptable."
"Abandoning four cute girls for another."
Nijika flushed, "Ryo, don't say that."
Hotaru chuckled, sighed, "She filmed us, planned to use it."
Hitori added, "I saw it."
Her social anxiety made her sensitive to gazes.
Explanations cleared, girls understood.
Ikuyo whispered, curious, "She's a blogger I follow."
"Follow Guitar Hero instead," Hotaru said casually.
Hitori trembled. Don't follow me…
"I follow them all," Ikuyo said.
------------------------------
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