The study session had transitioned from focused to frazzled.
It had been nearly two hours since the group gathered in Riko's cozy living room, and the chaos that followed could only be described as academically well-intentioned disaster.
Books were stacked in leaning towers, pens had been clicked into oblivion, and the air held the faint scent of potato chips and overworked brains.
Riko sat cross-legged near the low table, flipping through her history notes. She tugged at her collar absentmindedly—just enough for a glint of silver to peek out.
Mari, mid-way through reciting a math formula incorrectly, stopped cold.
"Hold up," she said, squinting. "What's that?"
Riko blinked. "What's what?"
Kana leaned closer from the other side of the table. "That necklace. Are you… wearing jewelry?"
Riko's hand flew to her neck, fingers brushing over the delicate silver chain that held a small, subtle pendant. She tucked it quickly back under her shirt.
Mari gasped. "Wait, I've never seen you wear anything like that! And you're not exactly the accessory type."
"It's nothing," Riko said a little too fast.
"Oh, it's definitely not nothing," Kana said with a knowing smirk. "Is that a gift?"
Riko hesitated. "…Maybe."
Mari's eyebrows lifted. "From who?"
Riko flushed. "None of your business."
"That means it's from someone important," Kana declared, leaning in with a grin.
"Drop it," Riko groaned.
They didn't.
And across the room, Saito Kagami turned a page in his science workbook, face blank, eyes unmoving.
But he had heard every word.
And his hand, resting on the desk, paused just briefly before resuming its precise underlining.
As the clock ticked closer to five, the atmosphere in the room began to shift.
Kana rubbed her temples. "I swear, if I look at one more irregular verb, my brain's going to melt."
"That's biologically inaccurate," Saito replied. "But the fatigue is understandable."
"I don't even know how to respond to that anymore," Kana muttered.
Mari stood and stretched. "Alright, let's start cleaning up. If I stare at these numbers any longer, I'll start hallucinating answers."
Riko smiled as she began stacking the flashcards into neat piles. "Thanks, guys. This really helped."
"It was chaotic," Saito said, sorting his notes into sections, "but not entirely inefficient."
"You're getting softer with your compliments," Mari teased.
Just as the final bag of trash was tied up, the front door clicked open.
The room went quiet.
Footsteps—heavy, deliberate—echoed from the entryway.
"Dad's home," Riko said softly.
A moment later, her father stepped into view.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, with short dark hair and a stern face. He wore a dark work shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and a visible scar above his right cheekbone.
Mari took a small step back.
Kana stiffened.
The room shifted—not with noise, but with presence. Like gravity had increased.
Her father looked over the room once, eyes stopping briefly on each student. Then, on Saito.
Saito stood immediately.
"Good evening, sir. Thank you for letting us use your home."
The man's brows lowered slightly.
Then he extended his hand.
Saito stepped forward and shook it without hesitation.
For a few seconds, no one spoke.
Then, something shifted—subtly.
Riko's father raised an eyebrow. He wasn't squeezing hard, but the grip he felt in return was firm. Controlled. Like shaking hands with dumbbell.
He released the handshake, eyeing Saito with mild interest.
"Riko's friend, huh."
Mari and Kana were statues.
Riko cleared her throat. "We're just classmates, Dad."
"I didn't say anything," her father replied calmly.
He stepped past them and disappeared into the kitchen. The fridge opened and closed, then the hallway creaked as he moved toward the back room.
Only once he was fully out of sight did Kana finally exhale.
"Was he in the military or something?"
Mari shook her head. "I thought I was going to faint. That was terrifying."
"He seems respectable," Saito said plainly, sitting back down.
Riko turned to him. "You didn't even flinch."
"He didn't display any signs of aggression. Just… intensity."
"Yeah, but intensity is scary!" Mari muttered.
Riko smiled faintly.
"Well, if you're not afraid of my dad, then I guess you're truly impossible to rattle."
Saito didn't respond.
But from across the table, Riko saw his gaze flicker—not at her, but toward her collar.
The chain peeked out just a little.
And this time, she didn't tuck it back in.