Kaito strolled into the committee room ten minutes late, a bag of konbini snacks swinging from his fingertips. Aoi's pen froze mid-sentence on her clipboard.
"You're late," she said, voice tighter than the bun in her hair. "Again."
"Relax, Prez. Brought fuel for the troops." He tossed a melon bread toward Yuki, who caught it with a grin.
Aoi's glare could've cut steel. "We're finalizing the exhibit layout. Focus."
Yuki unwrapped the bread, humming. "Aoi-chan, why don't you two handle the photography display? Kaito-kun's shots of the cherry trees are perfect for the entrance!"
Aoi stiffened. "I've already curated the images—"
"Nuh-uh!" Yuki wagged a finger. "You said yourself his 'lazy snapshots' have 'unexpected depth.'"
Kaito's eyebrows shot up. Aoi's cheeks flared pink as she spun toward the poster boards. "I—I meant compositionally! Now hurry up!"
---
An hour later, Kaito balanced atop a rickety ladder, tacking his photos to a blossom-draped archway. "Y'know, these'd look better if you stopped death-glaring them."
Aoi stood below, arms full of twinkle lights. "They'd look better if you'd labeled them properly. 'Tree_1.jpg'? Really?"
"It's called mystery." He reached for the last photo—a close-up of petals caught mid-fall—and the ladder wobbled.
"Idiot, hold on—!" Aoi dropped the lights to steady the ladder, her hands gripping his ankles.
Kaito glanced down. Her glasses had slipped, revealing wide, worried eyes. "...You okay?"
"Y-yes! Just—don't die before the festival!" She jerked away, sending the ladder swaying again.
They crashed into the display table in a tangle of limbs and cherry blossom garlands, Kaito's arm instinctively circling Aoi's waist to break her fall.
Silence.
Her hair smelled like jasmine tea.
"Ahem."
They sprang apart to find Hiro in the doorway, phone raised. "New club motto: 'Safety Third'?"
---
By dusk, the exhibit stood transformed—Kaito's photos glowing under fairy lights, Aoi's handwritten poetry cards nestled between them.
"Not bad," Kaito admitted, snapping a pic of their handiwork.
Aoi adjusted a crooked frame. "Your photography… it does capture something. The… impermanence of things."
He lowered his camera. "You sound surprised."
"I'm not—" She caught his smirk and huffed. "Just don't slack off tomorrow."
As she marched away, Kaito noticed it—the photo she'd straightened was his favorite, petals blurred into a rain of pink.
Yuki popped up beside him, grinning. "Admit it. You're into her whole 'human icicle' thing."
"Nah," Kaito said, pocketing his camera. "But her taste in art's improving."
Outside, the cherry trees whispered in
the wind, scattering petals over the path Aoi had taken home.