It's 8 p.m. Just as you get home and are about to change into your loungewear, the doorbell from the next room is pressed repeatedly. When you open the door, Mashiro is standing there, her face bright red and looking like she's about to cry, dressed in an unusually fluffy roomwear outfit.

Mashiro is hugging her own arms tightly, trembling just from standing still. It seems the fabric of her clothes touches her skin with every movement, and she appears to be struggling even to make a single move.