"Suzuki-senpai."
Akane looked up from gathering her student council materials to find Nakamura Yuki standing in the doorway, her square glasses catching the late afternoon light. It was unusual to see the infamous Ice Queen here – she typically vanished immediately after meetings.
"Nakamura-san?" Akane tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Did you need something?"
"Actually," Yuki's voice was carefully neutral, "I wanted to ask about the festival photography assignments."
"Oh?" Akane checked her watch. The meeting had run late, and she was supposed to review some gallery submissions. "Can it wait until tomorrow? I'm a bit—"
"It's about Matsuda-kun's assignments."
Something in Yuki's tone made Akane pause. She looked more closely at her underclassman, noting the slight tension in her normally perfect posture.
"What about them?"
"I heard he might need to be... reassigned." Yuki adjusted her glasses, a gesture Akane had noticed she used when choosing her words carefully. "Perhaps the cosplay event isn't the best fit for his... current state of mind."
Understanding began to dawn. "Has something happened?"
"Nothing specific," Yuki said smoothly. "Just an observation. You know how he is with capturing... emotional moments."
Akane thought about the candid photos she'd seen in Matsuda's portfolio – moments of quiet vulnerability, scenes most people would overlook. She thought about how he'd been unusually subdued at the last club meeting, right after she'd mentioned Kenji's upcoming exhibition.
"Ah," she said softly.
"Rei's handling it," Yuki added, her expression softening slightly at the mention of her friend. "But I thought you should know. For scheduling purposes."
Akane looked down at her phone, at the message she'd been about to send about having to miss tomorrow's club meeting for Kenji's gallery opening. "Thank you, Nakamura-san."
Yuki nodded, turning to leave. At the doorway, she paused. "You know, some of his best work is when he's photographing the everyday moments. The ones most people don't notice."
The implications hung in the air between them.
"I'll keep that in mind," Akane said quietly.
After Yuki left, Akane sat for a long moment, staring at her perfectly organized festival schedules. Finally, she pulled out her phone and typed: Sorry, something came up with the club. Rain check on the gallery?
Then she opened her photo gallery, scrolling to a folder she'd been meaning to organize. Inside were dozens of candid shots from club activities – moments she hadn't even realized were being captured until Matsuda quietly submitted them for the school yearbook.
In each one, she looked... real. Not the composed club president, not the perfect student council member. Just Akane, laughing at Segawa's antics or lost in concentration over contact sheets.
"Oh," she said to the empty room. "Oh."
Her phone buzzed with Kenji's reply, but she was already gathering her things, mind racing through all the little moments she might have missed while looking at the bigger picture.
Sometimes the best shots were the ones you didn't plan for.
"You know," Segawa declared, now surrounded by a small fleet of paper napkin boats, "Admiral Yi faced countless defeats before his greatest victories."
Matsuda hadn't touched his fresh coffee, but at least he'd stopped staring at the crumpled schedule in his hands. His glasses were slightly askew, catching the cafe's warm lighting at odd angles.
"I don't think comparing my... situation to naval battles is going to help," he mumbled.
"Ah, but consider this!" Segawa pushed one of his napkin creations forward. "At the Battle of Chilcheollyang, Yi lost his entire fleet. Everything! Stripped of his rank, imprisoned, his reputation in ruins!"
I winced. "Segawa, maybe this isn't—"
"But!" He held up a finger triumphantly. "Did he surrender to despair? No! He rebuilt from twelve ships – twelve! And went on to become Korea's greatest admiral!"
"I just wanted to take pictures," Matsuda said quietly. "Not start a war."
"Exactly!" Segawa's eyes lit up with that particular gleam that usually preceded his most elaborate naval analogies. "Like Yi's twelve ships, you have your talents. Your eye for detail, your ability to capture moments others miss, your..."
He trailed off, distracted by something over my shoulder. His stern face suddenly shifted into an expression I'd never seen before – something almost like tactical calculation without the usual theatrical flair.
"Matsuda-kun," he said, in an unusually normal voice, "would you say the lighting in here is good for portrait photography?"
"What?" Matsuda blinked, professional instincts temporarily overriding his misery. "Well, the afternoon sun through the windows creates interesting shadows, but the cafe's overhead lights can cause problematic glare on—" He stopped. "Why?"
"Because," Segawa said carefully, "Suzuki-senpai just entered the cafe, and I believe understanding optimal lighting conditions might be tactically relevant right now."
I turned just enough to confirm – there was Akane in the doorway, still in her student council uniform, looking slightly out of breath like she'd rushed over.
"Oh god," Matsuda started to sink lower in his seat. "I can't—"
"Remember Hansan Island!" Segawa grabbed his shoulder. "When faced with overwhelming odds, Admiral Yi—"
"Used the terrain to his advantage," Matsuda finished automatically, then looked horrified that he'd actually internalized some of Segawa's naval lectures.
"Precisely! And right now, your terrain includes excellent backlighting and a strategic corner position!"
I watched this exchange with a mix of amazement and concern. Who knew Segawa's obsession with naval tactics could actually be... helpful?
"She's coming this way," I warned quietly.
"Tactical positions everyone!" Segawa straightened, somehow managing to sweep most of his napkin fleet into his school bag. "Shirogane-san, shall we conduct a strategic retreat to secure additional supplies?"
Understanding dawned. For all his theatrical behavior, Segawa could be surprisingly perceptive when it mattered.
"Roger that, Admiral," I said, standing up. As we moved toward the counter, I heard Akane's soft voice:
"Matsuda-kun? Do you mind if I sit down?"
"I... um..." Matsuda's voice wavered, then steadied slightly. "The lighting is good here."
From our new position, I watched as Akane carefully took the seat I'd vacated, placing a familiar-looking camera on the table between them.
"You know," she said, "I've been looking through the club photos from last semester..."
"Mission accomplished," Segawa whispered, attempting to fold another napkin. "Though perhaps we should maintain surveillance from a tactically advantageous position?"
I smiled, remembering Yuki's words from the aquarium. Sometimes you didn't have to fix everything yourself. Sometimes you just had to trust your own kind of weird to help in its own way.
"Lead the way, Admiral."