Kaito's sneakers squeaked against the linoleum as he bolted up the stairwell, a convenience store sandwich clutched in his hand. Third time this week, he thought, grimacing as the final bell rang. He yanked open the classroom door—only to freeze.
Aoi stood beside their homeroom teacher, her expression smug.
"Ah, Arashi," the teacher said, adjusting his glasses. "How kind of you to join us after roll call."
Kaito winced. "Train delays—"
"Save it," Aoi interjected, her voice crisp. "Your excuses are as flimsy as your attendance record."
The teacher sighed. "Since you've mastered the art of tardiness, you'll join Takahashi on the school festival committee. Consider it… motivation to arrive on time."
"What?" Kaito and Aoi blurted in unison.
"The committee meets daily after school," the teacher continued, ignoring their twin looks of horror. "Dismissed."
---
"This is your fault," Aoi hissed later, storming into the empty clubroom. She slammed a stack of binders onto a desk, sending dust motes swirling in the afternoon light.
Kaito slouched into a chair, unwrapping his crumpled sandwich. "Relax, Prez. We'll throw up some paper lanterns, call it a day—"
"Paper lanterns?" Aoi's pen froze mid-annotation. "The theme is 'Echoes of Spring', not a cheap夜市! We need a cohesive vision—poetry readings, art exhibits, a themed café—"
"A café?" Kaito snorted. "You wanna serve overpriced matcha while people read haiku? Sounds thrilling."
Aoi's grip tightened on her clipboard. "At least I have standards. Unlike someone who thinks 'effort' is a four-letter word."
"It is a four-letter word," Kaito shot back, grinning as her cheeks flushed.
The door creaked open.
"Aoi-chan~! I brought notes from last year's—" Yuki, Aoi's bubbly best friend, paused, eyes darting between them. "Ohhh. Is this the infamous delinquent you're stuck with?"
Aoi stiffened. "He's not—we're not—ugh."
Yuki leaned toward Kaito, whispering theatrically, "She spent lunchtime ranting about you. Totally obsessed."
"Yuki!" Aoi's glasses slipped as she lunged to cover her friend's mouth.
Kaito raised an eyebrow. "Ranted, huh? What'd I do this time? Breathe too loud?"
"Existed," Aoi snapped, though her ears were scarlet. She shoved a binder at him. "Here. Read. And try not to embarrass me."
As she stormed off to rearrange supply lists, Kaito flipped open the binder—and blinked. Inside were meticulous sketches of cherry blossom arches, budget spreadsheets color-coded to perfection, and a handwritten note: "Ask Arashi about photography exhibit? (He's lazy, but his club photos are decent.)"
He glanced at Aoi, now arguing with Yuki over floral arrangements. The sunlight caught her hair, turning chestnut strands to gold.
Huh. Maybe robots have souls after all.