Momo waited by the station entrance Jirou had texted her, arms folded neatly, trying not to fidget. She’d changed outfits three times.

  The navy blouse was the right call, casual and refined, with a little embroidery at the collar that gave it detail without being loud. The cream skirt coordinated without drawing attention, and the cardigan draped over her shoulders was just in case it got cold later on. Her flats were beige leather and polished. She’d straightened her hair because... well, that’s what you did for concerts, wasn’t it?

  She arrived ten minutes early, of course. Long enough for nerves to build. But when she spotted Jirou heading toward her, hands stuffed in her jacket pockets, Momo let out a soft breath.

  Jirou wore a worn band tee and black jeans torn at the knees. Her denim jacket was dotted with enamel pins, catching the station lights with tiny glints. Momo's eyes lingered on the clustered designs, music notes, skulls, a tiny angry cat. And her eyeliner, bold and confident, made her look like she belonged on a stage, not just in front of one.

  "You look nice," Momo said, automatically.

  Jirou blinked. "Thanks. So do you."

  A short pause.

  Then Jirou pulled out her phone, checked the time, and nodded toward the approaching train "We should head in. It’s gonna get packed."

  Momo followed as they moved toward the platform. "When you said it was close to your house, I didn’t expect this."

  Jirou shrugged. "Yeah. It’s a short train ride away. Fifteen minutes, maybe."

  They boarded. Momo kept close, mirroring Jirou’s easy rhythm, but the car filled fast. Passengers shuffled in, brushing past shoulders, backpacks swinging. Jirou snagged two seats and motioned for Momo to sit.

  Jirou glanced at her. "Nervous for the concert?"

  Momo blinked back into focus. "Not just that… I’ve never been on a train before."

  Jirou laughed, assuming it was a joke... until Momo didn’t join her. "Wait. Seriously?"

  Momo shifted. "I’m usually driven everywhere. I guess this is new."

  Jirou whistled softly, fiddling with her earphone jacks as the train rumbled into motion.

  The ride wasn’t long, maybe ten minutes or so but it felt longer to Momo, who stared at the floor, knuckles tight around her bag strap. She was just adjusting to the rhythm when the train began to slow.

  They wove through the packed aisle and stepped onto the station platform. The air felt fresher, but Momo looked queasy, pale under the fluorescent lights.

  Jirou stepped in front of her. "You okay? You look like you need water."

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Momo nodded gratefully. Jirou took her wrist and pulled her toward a vending machine. She popped in coins, punched the button with practiced ease, and handed Momo a chilled bottle.

  Momo pressed it to her forehead, letting the coolness sink in before uncapping it and taking a slow sip.

  "You sure you’re okay to go?"

  "I’m fine," she said softly. "Just… a little claustrophobic."

  Jirou tilted her head, unconvinced, but didn’t push. "Then let’s get there early. We can get a better spot."

  They left the station, Momo still gripping her water bottle like an anchor. She glanced at the narrow streets, lined with low storefronts and cafes glowing under warm yellow lights.

  "I thought it was a street concert," Momo said tentatively.

  Jirou looked sheepish. "Yeah. I said that. It’s actually in a club. Well... not a real club. It’s under a music store I go to. It's a small space, regulars, live bands, chill vibe. You’ll like it."

  Momo hesitated. "Like... a nightclub?"

  Jirou snorted. "No, nothing sketchy. More like... a basement for nerds who play guitar. Trust me."

  They arrived at a cozy music shop with bright window decals and guitars on display. A narrow staircase led down.

  Faint bass thumped through the steps. Momo hovered at the top.

  "You coming?" Jirou asked, halfway down already.

  Momo followed. Inside, the space felt more like a café with music equipment than anything else. The bar doubled as a merch stand. Tables and booths circled a low stage. Strings of lights draped across the ceiling.

  They approached the entrance counter where a woman with blue-dyed hair and a piercings-heavy look took their printed tickets with a nod.

  Jirou led them to the floor. The space in front of the stage was still mostly empty, just a few early arrivals leaning on the rail.

  "This your usual place? I thought you went to real concerts" Momo asked.

  "A concert’s a concert," Jirou said, adjusting her jacket. "But yeah, I come here a lot. Stadium shows are cool too, but this is... manageable. Thought I’d ease you in."

  "That’s... considerate of you," Momo said. "But you’re probably right. I could barely handle the train."

  Jirou caught the edge in her voice but didn’t press. People were starting to move from their seats toward the stage.

  Momo stood on her toes, scanning the setup. "Why is there a mango box on the stage?"

  Jirou grinned. "The guitarist’s in it. It’s their gimmick."

  That was strange. But when the music started, it didn't matter. Momo found herself swaying instinctively. It wasn’t the genre she listened to, it was too raw and loud, but it carried something powerful. And Jirou, in her element, was bouncing lightly on her feet, fingers twitching with invisible strings, grinning like a kid.

  It made Momo smile, too.

  Mid-song, Jirou leaned in and shouted something, Momo only caught some of it "I, like, moon." She blinked, confused, glanced at the ceiling. Indoors. No moon. A band name?

  Jirou froze for a moment, eyes wide, then turned quickly back to the stage.

  During the break Momo was complimenting the second song when she noticed a flash of yellow and black in the crowd. Kaminari.

  Jirou followed her gaze and made a face.

  He strolled over, flashing a grin. "Yo, Jirou. Momo?? What are the odds?"

  "Hey Kaminari, wha-"

  "You dork!" Jirou snapped, stepping in front of Momo. "What are you even doing here?"

  "Whoa, chill," he said with a laugh. "It’s near my house and I come here sometimes. I Just wanted to hear some live music on my day off."

  Jirou gave him a long stare. Momo looked fine, just puzzled. That seemed to calm her. She stepped back.

  "Okay. That checks out."

  He glanced between them. "So… can I join you guys? I’m all alone here."

  Momo nodded politely. Jirou muttered something close to yes.

  When the music resumed, Jirou didn’t look relaxed anymore. Not quite tense, more like flustered. She barely moved this time, hands stuffed in her jacket.

  The show ended with a loud cheer, and the crowd began to thin. The trio found a table and sat. It reminded Momo of that café after USJ, same trio, same weird energy.

  Kaminari stood abruptly. "This is kinda ironic, but I gotta head out. My mom’s back from a trip, and I forgot to clean the place."

  Momo blinked. "Oh."

  "Why didn’t you clean beforehand?" Jirou said, half-sarcastic.

  "I forgot, okay?" he laughed. "Anyway... see ya."

  He jogged out. Jirou stood up next. "We should probably go too. I know your curfew’s tight."

  Momo followed. They thanked the staff, exited into the quiet night. The sky was ink-dark, city lights humming faintly.

  The return train was emptier. Momo didn’t mind it this time.

  Back at the station, they stepped onto the pavement together.

  "Thanks for inviting me," Momo said. "I had fun. I don’t usually do these things… sorry if I was a burden."

  Jirou shook her head. "You did great. Today was about fun. Mission accomplished."

  They stood there for a second, Momo looking up at the moon. Full and silver, framed between buildings.

  "You were right,” she said. “The moon is pretty tonight."

  Jirou froze, flustered. "Wha… oh. Yeah. That."

  A sleek black sedan pulled up. Momo glanced at it, then back at her.

  "Thanks again," she

  said, climbing in.

  "You’re welcome," Jirou murmured, watching her go. She waited until the car turned the corner before heading home alone.