They hadn't even made it to the hallway.
Ren and Akari were three steps from the cafeteria doors when the worst possible thing happened—Daichi Morita spotted them. Again.
He popped up from behind a half-finished pudding cup like a meerkat with a mission.
"*Hey, hey, hey!*" he called out, bounding toward them with the boundless energy of a Labrador retriever and none of the spatial awareness. "I forgot to ask earlier—what clubs are you guys joining?!"
Akari blinked. "That's… an aggressively enthusiastic question."
Ren raised an eyebrow. "Do I look like a club person?"
Daichi nodded solemnly. "Exactly why I'm asking. We need more people in the baseball support team. Not to play! Just to cheer and hand out towels and maybe sing at tournaments."
Ren opened his mouth. Closed it. Then gave Akari a look that said *what kind of school did we enroll in*?
"Thanks," he said delicately, "but I think I'll pass on towel duties."
Akari chimed in. "I don't think I even know the rules of baseball."
"That's okay," Daichi said brightly. "Neither does our pitcher."
Akari genuinely laughed, and Ren felt a flicker of irritation he couldn't name.
Before Daichi could pitch them on anything else, Rio appeared beside him, her tray now clean, her smile lazy but unmistakably sharp.
"You're smothering," she said, casually elbowing Daichi out of the conversation. "Give them breathing room. Not everyone wants to be adopted by your chaos on day one."
Daichi sulked. "I'm just being friendly."
"I know. That's the problem."
She turned to Ren and Akari. "Sorry. He gets excited when people make eye contact."
"I do not!" Daichi protested.
"Do too."
Akari exchanged a quick glance with Ren—one of their old signals. *We're being pulled in*. The people they'd met just hours ago were now orbiting them like satellites, dipping in and out of their quiet, two-person world without invitation. Friendly, sure. But unfamiliar.
Ren cleared his throat. "So… clubs."
Rio leaned her weight to one side. "I'm joining broadcasting. I like hearing my own voice."
"That sounds deeply unsurprising," Akari said.
Rio winked. "I'm a consistent brand."
Daichi scratched the back of his neck. "I'm sticking with baseball, obviously. And maybe cooking club. But only because they sometimes let you eat leftovers."
Ren frowned slightly. "Can you join multiple clubs?"
Rio shrugged. "Apparently. They're kind of loose about it as long as you show up and don't start fires."
Akari crossed her arms. "What about you, Nagi?"
They all turned.
Nagi Sakamoto, seated two tables away with his hood pulled halfway over his face, slid one earbud off and looked up like a vampire being summoned at sunrise.
"Huh?"
"Clubs," Rio said. "We're talking about socializing."
Nagi gave her a look of pure horror. "Pass."
"Oh come on. Don't you have any hobbies?"
"I'm part of a very exclusive underground group," Nagi said flatly. "It's called 'going home immediately.'"
Akari smirked. "I think I'm in that one too."
Daichi threw both hands in the air. "You guys are *killing* the school spirit!"
"We're protecting it from ourselves," Nagi replied.
A moment of silence passed. And then—just for a beat—everyone laughed.
It wasn't big. It wasn't loud. But it was real.
Akari watched it happen with a tiny furrow between her brows.
There it was—that *thing*. The subtle shift. The group's edges drawing in tighter. The space between "classmates" and "people you sit with at lunch" starting to blur.
And for the first time, Akari realized something that hadn't really occurred to her until now:
They were all going to get closer.
It wouldn't happen in a rush. Not overnight. But eventually, inevitably, the lines would blur. And she and Ren wouldn't be *just* a two-person unit anymore. She'd have other conversations. He'd share jokes with other people. He might even—
"I think we're being absorbed," Ren whispered beside her, as if reading her mind.
She turned to him. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
He gave a small smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I like our quiet corner."
Akari hesitated. "Yeah. Me too."
But she also knew it couldn't stay that way forever.
---
After lunch, they walked toward the shoe lockers together, where the afternoon announcements were pinned. Students gathered there like migrating birds, checking their club orientation schedules or hunting down friends.
Ren leaned against the wall, casually glancing over a poster for the music club. "If I joined one, it'd have to be something tasteful. Elegant. Sophisticated."
Akari raised an eyebrow. "Says the guy who almost tripped on a chair during math."
"That chair had it out for me."
"You kicked it first."
"Preemptive strike."
She smiled without meaning to. It was easy, this rhythm they had. Years of back-and-forth, teasing, banter—it worked like breathing.
But then, from the corner of her eye, she saw something.
Rio and Kaito.
They weren't talking or laughing. Just standing beside each other, both reading the club flyers. But something about it made her chest tighten. Maybe it was the way Rio casually bumped Kaito's shoulder and laughed. Or the way Kaito responded with an amused shake of his head.
Ren noticed it too.
She felt him tense just slightly beside her, though his expression didn't change.
Akari looked away.
---
"Hey," she said, more abruptly than she meant to. "Want to join a club together?"
Ren blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
"I mean… if you're gonna join one. We could try one out. Same time slot. Minimal chaos. Max control."
Ren tilted his head. "You're making it sound like a military exercise."
Akari grinned. "Everything is, if you plan hard enough."
He watched her for a second. "Alright. What are we scouting?"
"Definitely not broadcasting. I don't want to hear Rio's voice more than I have to."
Ren chuckled. "Agreed."
She looked over the club board again. "Student council? You'd like the power trip."
"I'd like the tie," he admitted. "But I don't like paperwork."
"Fair."
They stood in silence, eyes scanning the flyers.
Finally, Ren said, "Let's look at art club. No speeches. No equipment. Just… drawing."
Akari raised an eyebrow. "Can you even draw?"
"No. But I look fantastic while holding a pencil."
She rolled her eyes. "Fine. One meeting. We try it once."
He nodded. "Deal."
She smiled.
They weren't losing their rhythm—not yet. Maybe just stretching it. Letting in some new chords.
---
As the final bell rang and students began flowing out of the building, Akari glanced back at the lunch table they'd sat at earlier. It was empty now, save for a single napkin someone had forgotten to throw away.
She felt something strange stir in her chest. Not quite sadness. Not quite excitement.
Change.
She wasn't sure yet if it was a good thing.
But it was happening, either way.