"Mio~ what're you thinking about?"
The cheerful voice came from right behind her. Before Mio could even turn around, someone was hugging her from behind—soft warmth pressing against her back, a familiar scent wrapping around her. She didn't need to see the face. She'd know Yui Yuigahama anywhere.
She gently extracted herself and turned to look. "Yui. How did you get behind me?"
She could've sworn Yui had been at her own desk when she walked in. When did she—
And wait—wasn't it usually Mio who initiated the hugs, with Yui going red and sputtering something about how there were people around?
"You were spacing out, so I walked over while you weren't looking."
Mio studied Yui's face. She was smiling, perfectly at ease—and something about it was subtly different from usual. Mio couldn't put her finger on exactly what.
"You still haven't told me what you were spacing out about." Yui's eyes sparkled with curiosity.
"It's... nothing, really. Don't worry about it." Mio gave her a sweet smile and headed back to her seat.
Yui, who was very good at reading people, saw right through that. Something was clearly on Mio's mind—you didn't zone out that hard for that long over nothing. But since Mio hadn't said anything, she didn't push.
With ten minutes before class, Yui pulled her chair over next to Mio's desk like she usually did—might as well chat, see if she could close the distance a little.
That was when Yumiko Miura walked into the classroom.
Miura was clearly wearing makeup, but even so, she looked tired—the kind of tired that comes from not sleeping. She was also later than usual, which meant she'd probably overslept.
Once she was seated, Mio asked, "Did you have another rough night, Your Majesty?"
Miura had long since stopped fighting over the nickname. She just shot Mio a sharp look, pulled out her homework, and started writing.
Mio, reading the situation perfectly, quietly slid her own completed assignment across the desk. "What were you up to last night? Didn't sleep and didn't finish homework."
"Nothing. Just got too into a show and stayed up too late." Miura copied from Mio's work with a practiced efficiency, not looking up.
"That's a pretty weak excuse."
Miura turned her head and fixed Mio with a sharp stare.
She's not wrong. Miura thought, jaw tight. She'd genuinely assumed she'd sleep fine without Mio around. But then Yui had asked her that question yesterday afternoon, and it had started something she couldn't stop—she'd spent the whole night turning it over and over in her head, the homework half-done, the sleep nowhere to be found, and then nearly late on top of it all.
Mio caught the look and laughed it off, swiveling back to chat with Yui like nothing had happened.
Miura, at least, had written enough last night and had Mio's answers to copy from. She got the homework submitted before class started—barely.
The bell rang. Miura exhaled, long and slow.
Then her eyes slid, without permission, to Mio's seat beside her.
Mio was already looking her way, smiling. "Want me to take notes for you today, Yumiko?"
"I'm fine."
She pulled her eyes back. Stared at the board.
There I go again.
She kept doing that—glancing over at Mio without meaning to. It was irritating. The girl was pretty, sure. Very pretty, even. But that shouldn't mean Miura's eyes kept finding her on their own. If she was going to look at anyone, it should be Hayama Hayato.
She told herself that and then, pointedly, did not look anywhere but the textbook.
For all her delinquent-adjacent vibes, Miura was actually a good student. She was competitive about it—she hated being outperformed. Even with Yukino Yukinoshita consistently sitting at the top of their year, Miura refused to just accept it.
The class carried on.
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Ring ring ring~
When the bell for break rang, Mio stretched lazily in her seat. She'd already memorized every textbook at this stage thanks to [Mashiro Shiina's Photographic Memory], but she still paid attention in class—teachers had a way of covering things that weren't in the book.
It was right then that she felt it: a very pointed stare.
She glanced toward the hallway window.
Mashiro was standing there.
I've had teachers give me that same look from the back of the room. The déjà vu hit her before she could stop it.
Mio shook it off, stood up, and walked out of the classroom.
"Mashiro. Were you looking for me?"
Mashiro looked away immediately—an exaggerated, overdone dodge—and said, "I was just passing by."
"You were standing at that window for a full minute before I came out. And you're telling me you were just passing by."
"Class is about to start. I need to get back to my room." Mashiro turned and broke into a small jog, moving like she was trying to get away before Mio could catch her.
Class. She just said class is about to start. We literally just had a bell.
Mio watched her go, something clicking in the back of her mind. Mashiro had asked her last night—if you can't ask something directly, how do you find the answer? And Mio had told her to observe.
...Is she observing me?
With Mashiro's particular brand of logic, she could absolutely be staring at Mio all day in some sincere attempt to gather data. The question was—what kind of answer was she trying to find? What was the question she couldn't ask?
I'm curious. Mio admitted to herself. But she's already gone.
Guess she'd have to wait.
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