I found Akane in the club room during lunch break, surrounded by what looked like several weeks' worth of photo submissions. Her normally neat ponytail was starting to come undone, dark strands falling across her face as she peered at contact sheets.
"Please tell me that's not all for the festival," I said, carefully navigating around the piles of photographs.
"Hmm?" She looked up, blinking as if emerging from a deep dive. "Oh, Rei. No, these are just the preliminary selections. I'm trying to organize them by theme and technical proficiency." She gestured to various stacks. "Segawa-kun's are... unique."
I picked up one of the photos. It showed the school's garden from an unusual angle, making the stone path look remarkably like a ship's wake. "Well, he's definitely got a consistent vision."
"That's one way to put it." Akane sighed, but I caught the slight upturn of her lips. "At least he's stopped trying to pose the equipment. Though this morning he did suggest we rename the darkroom to 'The Admiral's War Room.'"
"About the festival..." I started, then paused, trying to figure out how to phrase this. "You know how the student council approved some new events this year?"
"The cosplay showcase?" Akane nodded, shuffling some papers. "I already assigned Matsuda-kun to cover it. His candid work is excellent for capturing natural moments."
I must have made some kind of face, because she looked up sharply. "Is there a problem?"
"Not exactly." I sat on the edge of the desk, careful not to disturb her organized chaos. "What if... hypothetically... someone wanted their participation documented more... discretely?"
Akane's eyes narrowed slightly. "Hypothetically?"
"Very hypothetically."
She set down her papers, giving me her full attention. "Would this hypothetical person happen to have a reputation for being particularly... cool?"
Sometimes I forgot how perceptive Akane could be. Then again, she'd been watching people through a camera lens for years.
"It's possible," I admitted. "And this person might have a very specific vision for their participation."
"A vision involving a certain manga character, perhaps?"
I stared at her. "How did you—"
"Rei," Akane said patiently, "I've seen Nakamura-san's book bag. The one she tries very hard to keep covered? It has a 'The Ice Queen's Secret Garden' charm on it."
"Oh."
"Also," she continued, a rare mischievous glint in her eye, "she's been sketching costume designs in her notebook during student council meetings."
I couldn't help but laugh. "And here I thought I was being subtle."
"Please." Akane started reorganizing her piles with renewed energy. "I'll handle the scheduling myself. We can set up in the old music room during the quieter parts of the festival. Good lighting, private entrance, and..." she smiled slightly, "no risk of naval commentary."
"You're the best, you know that?"
"I know." She handed me a stack of photos. "Now make yourself useful and help me sort these. Segawa-kun's maritime theme actually works for some of the sports team shots, but I'm not sure about his insistence on calling them 'Battle Documentation Series.'"
As I settled in to help, I pulled out my phone to text Yuki: Mission accomplished. Operation Secret Garden is a go.
Her response came quickly: That code name is terrible.
Would you prefer "Tactical Wardrobe Maneuver"? I'm sure Segawa could suggest something more creative...
Don't you dare.
I grinned, tucking my phone away. Between Yuki's secret cosplay, Matsuda's growing confidence, and Segawa's... unique artistic vision, this festival was shaping up to be interesting.
At least we'd have plenty of photos to remember it by.
The stack of festival documentation forms Akane had asked me to deliver felt heavier with each step. As I rounded the corner toward the teachers' room, my attention divided between balancing the papers and checking Segawa's latest message about "naval-inspired event photography," I nearly missed the small figure struggling with an armful of notebooks.
"Ah, sumimasen..." A soft voice came from somewhere around my shoulder level. I looked down to find a pair of striking blue eyes peering up at me nervously from behind blonde bangs.
"Are you okay?" I asked, noticing how she seemed to be trying to make herself even smaller than her already tiny frame.
"The papers..." she gestured helplessly at the scattered notebooks on the floor, her Japanese careful and precise despite a distinct accent. "I'm supposed to deliver them to Ishida-sensei, but..."
I balanced Akane's forms against my hip and knelt to help her gather the notebooks. "Class rep duties?"
She nodded, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. The small mole on her right cheek seemed to dance as she spoke. "Class 1-A. I'm... I'm Van der Meer Emma."
"Shirogane Rei, Class 2-A." I handed her the last notebook, noticing how she immediately clutched it to her chest like a shield. "You're a long way from your classroom."
"I got lost," she admitted, the blush deepening. "Again. The school is so big, and all the corridors look the same, and my classmates tried to explain but they talk so fast..."
Something in her tone – that mixture of frustration and resignation – was achingly familiar. I'd heard it in Matsuda's voice when he talked about approaching Akane, in Segawa's rare moments without his admiral persona, in my own thoughts before Yuki had found me in that manga cafe.
"I'm heading to the teachers' room anyway," I said. "Want to walk together?"
The smile that lit up her face made her look even younger, if that was possible. "Really? You don't mind?"
"Not at all. Though I should warn you – if we run into someone from the Photography Club, there might be impromptu naval battle reenactments."
She blinked, confusion clear on her face. "Naval...?"
"It's a long story," I said, starting down the corridor. "Involving a self-proclaimed reincarnated admiral, a very patient club president, and more maritime metaphors than I ever thought I'd hear in a photography context."
Emma fell into step beside me, having to take two steps for each of mine. "That sounds... interesting?"
"That's one word for it." I glanced down at her. "How long have you been in Japan?"
"Three months." She fidgeted with the edge of a notebook. "Papa's company transferred him from Amsterdam. Mama says it's an adventure, but..." she trailed off, looking at the floor.
"But sometimes adventures are scarier than they sound in stories?"
She looked up sharply, surprise and recognition flashing across her face. "Yes! Exactly! Everyone is very nice, but it's all so..." she gestured vaguely with one hand, nearly dropping her notebooks again.
"Overwhelming?"
Another nod. "And being class rep... I didn't want to, but sensei said it would help me 'integrate' and no one else volunteered, and now I keep getting lost and mixing up the cleaning duty schedules and—"
"Breathe," I suggested gently.
She did, her tiny frame seeming to deflate slightly. "Sorry. I'm not very good at this, am I?"
We'd reached the teachers' room. I shifted my stack of papers to free one hand and reached for the door. "Want to know a secret? None of us are. We're all just pretending until we figure it out."
"Even you?"
I thought about my conversation with Minako last night, about how surprised she'd been at my transformation from hermit to helper. "Especially me. But you know what helps?"
"What?"
"Finding your own kind of weird. Trust me – this school has plenty to choose from."
As if to prove my point, Segawa's voice echoed down the hallway: "These cleaning supplies shall be arranged according to the tactics used at the Battle of Noryang!"
Emma's eyes widened comically. "Is that...?"
"Yep. See? Plenty of weird to go around." I opened the door, gesturing for her to go first. "Come find me at lunch tomorrow if you want. I know some people who are pretty good at being their own kind of different."
The smile she gave me was smaller this time, but somehow more real. "Thank you, Shirogane-senpai."
As we entered the teachers' room, I couldn't help but wonder what Minako would say about this latest addition to my growing collection of outcasts. Probably something about my 'helper complex' developing nicely.
Then again, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing to develop.