The room was a still pond; only the whisper of pages and the dry scratch of pen on paper moved its surface. Now and then, the clock’s hand swept like a thin sword.

Only two girls sat inside, bent over homework, soaking up inked knowledge like roots drinking rain.

Exams had passed, and the sports festival loomed with flags like bright wind. No one wanted a red mark; the air felt thicker, study steam rising from every desk. A few didn’t care for the festival—Yun Shi among them. She’d lived two lives; the fireworks of young blood didn’t light her sky.

She could grumble, but the book still had to be chewed, the homework still had to be ground down. One mercy: this wasn’t back home in China. If it were that funnel-fed cramming, she’d snap—world-class cruel, in her eyes. Elsewhere, kids had varied texts; there, it felt like one book or you drown. More than once, she’d wished she’d been born under another flag.

Though that wish had already come true…

“Yun-kun, how do I solve this part?”

“Let me see. Mm. Split this system, then substitute it here…”

“Yun-kun, how much do you know about Japanese history?”

“That—my weak point…”

“Is that so? Then I’ll help you.”

“Miyuki Kiseki, can you carry us in Japanese?”

“Eh—mm, I can. What part trips you up?”

They kept threading problems back and forth, the mood smooth as woven silk. A joke flickered now and then; Mizuki usually lit the spark.

Four-thirty slipped in like dusk pooling at the window. The study hours had run like quicksilver; Mizuki found it strange.

Yun Shi stretched, eyes half-closed, spine unfolding like a cat waking in sun. She’d studied all day; pretending not to ache would be a lie. Morning with Mizuki, afternoon with Mizuki—no matter how tough she was, the grind wore bone. In her last life, she’d been an average student, hovering near the line; in this one, she wore the “top student” tag on borrowed memory. On her own, she felt about as ordinary as most people.

“It’s already this late…”

“Yeah.”

She arched again as she answered, and the small motion hit like a warm tide. A slim waist caught the light; a hint of round hip curved like a crescent under cloth. Even a woman like Mizuki felt her blood stir, the way fire licks oil. A man catching this glance would lose his grip.

Is this one really a guy?!

“Ahem. Maybe… take a break.”

Mizuki dragged her eyes away, snipping the thread of temptation.

“True. I’ve been in books all day. I’m tired.”

Yun Shi eased back into her seat. Mizuki felt a faint regret drift by, then fade like smoke.

It was a gift she could stay at all tonight. Once things here were handled, she’d fly back to Britain—this trip was a leave slip, not a holiday.

Mizuki still had training; her instruction arc hadn’t closed. So playtime was a brief pocket. Even so, she was a student; she had her small rights. Home awaited; school awaited. Those doors stayed open.

Andrea might be the Ice Queen, but she wasn’t overbearing. If Mizuki asked for leave, she granted it.

Going back would still be hard, though…

“By the way, your room’s pretty,” Yun Shi said without planning it. She’d caught its neat lines and a soft girlish scent, so unlike her own spartan space, and the words fluttered out.

Mizuki’s heart kicked like a drum; color lifted on her cheeks like dawn.

“R—really? Th-thanks…”

“What’s wrong? Your face is so red. Fever?”

“N-no, no—I’m fine!”

“Something’s off. Fever, right? You shouldn’t keep studying through it. Don’t tell me you’ve been sick the whole time…”

Yun Shi sounded like she spoke to Mizuki—and like she spoke to the empty air. Mizuki couldn’t tell which face the words wore.

She knew Yun Shi’s mouth didn’t match her heart. One thing was sure: she was gentle.

“I’m fine. Truly.”

The thought softened Mizuki’s smile; it bloomed quiet and warm, like a lantern in a window.

“Really? Not lying?”

“Of course. Hey, Yun-kun, do you remember our first meeting?”

“…Mm.”

Yun Shi lowered her head for no reason she’d name. She didn’t look at Mizuki’s face.

The first meeting felt far and near at once, a memory like a mountain seen through mist. That day, Mizuki didn’t know who Yun Shi was; Yun Shi hadn’t yet called her an idiot.

It was, honestly, unforgettable…

“Time flew. I never dreamed I’d become friends with you, Yun-kun.”

Mizuki’s smile rose like the past catching sunlight.

“Mm…”

“It was after that that we grew familiar, right?”

“That’s true. And you’ve changed a lot since then.”

“I think you’ve changed, too. Softer, or more grown—how should I say it…”

“I couldn’t change. The one who changed is you. You were… someone who knew nothing…”

Yun Shi’s voice thinned; she let it fall into quiet.

The Mizuki she knew hadn’t been like this. She was friendly, yes, but often a blade of pure impulse, no shield, no plan—the type who never refused a plea. A good person, not the type Yun Shi admired. Now Mizuki carried thought and steadiness. To claim she hadn’t changed would be a joke.

As for Yun Shi herself—when had she shifted? She didn’t know when that idiot’s shadow started bending her choices. Sometimes her hands moved with someone else’s print.

So she didn’t know whether this path was good or bad…

“I think it’s a joy that you, Yun-kun, can fold into us,” Mizuki said, voice like water touching a stone. “Isn’t that enough?”

!

The words struck like a bell. Yun Shi sat in the echo and let it hum through her.

Mizuki meant something simple. If Yun Shi could accept friends, what was there to fear? Compared to that, change was a small wave.

And because of change, Yun Shi had today.

Back then, she’d stubbornly deny friendship. Back then, she’d act alone, one-way, never looking back. She had grown; she had turned.

Light blundered into shadow; shadow stepped into light. One thing didn’t change—the thread between them.

“Maybe.”

Yun Shi smiled, a little bitter, a little shy. Being comforted by her again.

But she didn’t dislike it.

“Right, Yun-kun—next time, let’s buy treats for that cat together.”

“Eh…”

“You love them, don’t you? So let’s care for the strays together.”

Yun Shi’s calm face lifted in surprise; words caught like a bird in her throat. Mizuki saw it and smiled, small and sure.

“I know you like cats, but you can’t keep one. So you feed the strays, right?”

“…”

“I haven’t forgotten—the look on your face that day.”

Her prompt tugged a memory loose: Yun Shi, sneaking food to a cat, and Mizuki catching her in the act.

So she hadn’t forgotten.

She’d even remembered Yun Shi’s secret fondness…

“Like an idiot…”

Always her. Always her, stepping in like an idiot where restraint ought to stand. Always, always.

Why Miyuki Kiseki? Why always her? Didn’t she know that walking into someone’s heart again and again could crack it? After she’d finally decided to live alone, someone forced the door.

“Miyuki Kiseki, why is it only you I can’t dislike?”

“Maybe… because I don’t dislike you either, Yun-kun.”

“…About the cat… another day.”

Yun Shi could only say that.

It was annoying, being found out by this girl.

If Mizuki wanted to “fully clear” this tsundere, her road stretched long and steeper than a shrine stair.

“By the way… do you still keep that rabbit?”

Yun Shi’s eyes slid to the white rabbit plush sitting at the headboard, occupying the most obvious perch.

“...Um, I…”

Mizuki floundered; why had the talk looped here?

“Looks like you really love it.”

Back then, Yun Shi hadn’t thought Mizuki would keep it long. She’d imagined the plush would be tossed aside for a newer one. She hadn’t expected it to remain.

Saying she wasn’t happy would be a lie. A friend cherishing your gift—there’s little sweeter.

“I-I-I… r-really l-like it, s-so I kept it…”

Her tongue knotted; Yun Shi sighed. What on earth had gotten into this girl?

“If you like them so much, I’ll get you another.”

“Really?!”

“Mm? Mm. Of course.”

She hadn’t expected Mizuki to pop up with that much joy, eyes glittering like stars. Did she love plushies that much? Yun Shi admitted they were soft and cute.

“It’s already this time…”

The clock nudged five. The sight tugged her thoughts toward dinner; if she didn’t leave now, she’d push the meal late. For a girl living alone, that mattered. She thought like a little homemaker, which looked strange on someone her age.

“Eh, Yun-kun…”

“I should head back.”

“!”

“Let’s end here for today. See you tomorrow.”

Yun Shi stood, reaching for her things, ready to go.

Mizuki’s heart leapt with one wish: don’t go. Stay a little more. Why did time run so fast? Why couldn’t she steal another slice?

“Wait!”

Mizuki moved without a pause, rising fast, hands reaching for Yun Shi’s wrist, ready to hold and plead.

She didn’t even know why. She only knew she didn’t want her to walk out.

In that instant, she did something she’d never believe herself capable of.

Her foot slipped at the worst moment. She missed the wrist; her palm pressed Yun Shi’s shoulder instead. Her weight tipped, all of it pouring down like sand from a jar. Yun Shi’s slight frame couldn’t brace; she tilted with the fall.

Fwump!

Softness rose under Mizuki’s knees; a clean scent bloomed like lilies. She glanced down and froze—Yun Shi lay beneath her, staring up, wide-eyed.

Most telling—Mizuki’s hands pinned Yun Shi’s wrists; her knee nestled between Yun Shi’s legs. Her rough breath brushed Yun Shi’s skin, hot as summer wind.

How did it end up like this—the moment rushing at him like a summer storm?

Yun Shi was stunned, a deer caught in moonlight, staring up at the figure above, mind a fog he couldn’t push through.

If a man had pinned him, his blade would’ve flashed like lightning; but a woman—one he knew—held him down, and his hands were stone.

He didn’t move; he just looked, wide-eyed and breathless, not knowing that in Mizuki’s gaze that helplessness was honey.

So cute, she thought, a kitten curled on warm tiles.

He’s a boy, sure, but too cute to resist, like a peach blushing under spring rain.

Slowly, Mizuki lowered her face, drunk on the moment, her lips drifting closer like a petal on a quiet pond; her scent bloomed like night jasmine.

Yun Shi watched her approach, dazed, his breath a trapped sparrow; he didn’t even dare to inhale.

He could shove her away and end it with a wave, but his palms felt like frost and wouldn’t rise.

Why can’t I refuse—the tide keeps pulling me in.

Her lips were about to steal his, and though it wasn’t the first time, his heart beat like a drum in a storm; this was his first true, face-to-face kiss.

If it’s her, it’s okay, right—an anchor in the swell.

“Mizuki, you there? I—uh.”

The door swung open like a gust; Mizuki’s older sister, Mayuko, froze, her mind jolted like a clock that lost its hands.

Yun Shi and Mizuki turned together, two rabbits caught mid-hop, and both went still.

“Sorry to interrupt, hehe.” She smiled like a crescent moon and shut the door; looked like her little sister had finally opened her heart.

“Wait, Sis—you’ve got it wrong!”

“Get up, you little scoundrel!”

Unnoticed, their bond was thawing, like ice yielding to spring sun.