Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

⋆ Intimidation & Gin ⋆

The bar wasn’t crowded, just the usual murmur from a few tables and the low music from the speaker above the counter. Maki dropped onto a stool with a heavy sigh, like the whole day had stuck to her. She ran a hand through her high ponytail, then rubbed her neck until it cracked. Still wearing her dojo sweatshirt with sleeves rolled up to her elbows, a bruise was visible on her left forearm. Her face looked tired, but her eyes—partially hidden by rectangular glasses—were sharp, direct, with a quiet patience that seemed purely polite.

A girl handed her a beer, already opened, without asking. Sitting next to her, Nobara was her opposite: an unbuttoned blouse casually worn over a wrinkled work suit, lipstick perfect despite the long day. She had kicked off her heels as soon as she came in, leaving them under the stool. She worked as an assistant at a law office and never missed a chance to complain about dumb clients. Or colleagues. Or the boss.

“Someone got you mad again?” she asked, smirking.

Maki rubbed her shoulder. “A new kid asked if ‘kicking’ actually works. I had to explain it… by showing him.”

Nobara laughed. “You love showing off.”

“I’m just teaching him to defend himself,” Maki replied. “If he screams at the first touch, not my problem.”

“You should get that printed on a T-shirt,” Nobara said, sipping her honey-colored cocktail—too much gin, too much lemon.

Gojo, the bartender, dried a glass with theatrical slowness, like he was performing a show only he could see. Black shirt, rolled-up sleeves, apron tied carelessly, and his trademark sunglasses—even though it was almost nine at night. Naturally.

The bar was a recent whim: he’d bought it from a friend “to break the boredom,” and quickly turned it into a casual but curated place, with dim lights, mismatched chairs, and questionably named cocktails. Ironic, considering he couldn’t handle alcohol. After one drink, he got even more unbearable than usual, which is why nobody let him drink. But it didn’t stop him from posing as a top-tier bartender, dishing out “cocktails and unsolicited wisdom” like it was his calling.

Maki and Nobara had started coming there almost by accident. Then it became their regular post-work spot. Sometimes Maki’s roommates joined them, but that night, they weren’t around.

“So,” Gojo said, putting down the glass, “another victim of the fearsome Master Zenin today?”

Maki glared. “Gojo. If you want to keep your teeth, stick to serving drinks.”

“But I’m here to serve love and wisdom, not just beer,” he shot back, flicking his wrist like a magician.

“Honestly, I think your punching bag is considering leaving you for emotional neglect.”

Nobara blew into her drink to hide a laugh. “She acts tough, but comes here to put on a show.”

Gojo pointed at Maki with the bottle. “She comes for my gin. And my unsolicited advice.”

Maki rolled her eyes, half-smiling. Nobara did the same.

“We’d come more often if you gave us a free one,” Nobara teased.

“Oh, gladly,” Gojo said, feigning outrage, shaking the shaker like an orchestra conductor. “It’d take so little. Some kindness, a caress for the soul, a ‘thanks Gojo, you’re a beacon in our dark lives’… normal friend stuff.”

Maki shook her head, whispering to Nobara without taking her eyes off her drink: “Notice since he opened the bar, he’s convinced himself he’s a sommelier?”

Nobara leaned forward, trying not to laugh. “Too bad he goes down like a sack of potatoes with any liquor.”

“Hey! I may not handle alcohol, but I have taste. My palate is refined!” Gojo shot back, offended.

“Your palate’s been on vacation since before you opened the bar.”

“At least I don’t look like a survivor of an assault,” he smirked, then nodded at Nobara. “Look at her: even if her personality could scare sharks, she can at least seem classy at first.”

Nobara glared. “You’d better stop talking while you’re still standing.”

“Touché.”

“Do I look brushable after six hours at the gym?” Maki snapped. “She gets polished by a law office, I get polished by a punching bag.”

Gojo laughed. “That’s why you’re always alone.”

Maki tapped him lightly on the arm. “I’m alone because I prefer peace of mind over conversations with idiots.”

Nobara made a dramatic hand gesture. “Translation: nobody survives more than two sentences.”

“Maybe… you just scare the wrong ones,” a hesitant voice said from nearby.

Maki spun, while Nobara raised an eyebrow.

At a nearby table, a boy watched awkwardly. Dark, messy hair, gentle features, large clear eyes, almost too sincere for this place. Plain hoodie, hands gripping a Ramune glass like an anchor.

“And you are… the judge of the evening?” Maki asked sharply.

He scratched his neck, red-faced. “No, I mean… just thinking out loud. Didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Too bad, you did.” Gojo laughed from behind the counter. “Here’s our awkward hero! Not everyone makes an entrance like that!”

Nobara smiled. “Don’t worry. If you want to join the ‘inappropriate comment’ club, you’re in the right place.”

Yuta adjusted in his seat, trying to look dignified. “Actually… I’m just waiting for a friend.”

Gojo leaned over. “New around here?”

Yuta nodded. “Not really from this neighborhood. Just… taking care of some things.”

Gojo studied him, then grinned. “Perfect. You’re neutral. Great: answer one question…”

Yuta frowned. “A question?”

“Yes. Would you ever buy a drink for a tough, independent girl like Maki?”

Maki rubbed her face, embarrassed. “Gojo…”

Yuta paled. “Uh… I mean… I… don’t know if—”

“Louder!” Gojo pressed.

Maki leaned forward, gaze calculating. “Keep going, or I’ll make you mop the floor with your tongue!”

Yuta swallowed, then admitted honestly: “Look, your friend is really cute. But… she’s intimidating. Maybe if she smiled a little more, things would be easier.”

Silence. Maki froze him with a glare that could suck the air out of the room. Nobara barely held back a laugh.

“I like you. Either surprisingly brave… or an idiot. The line is thin.”

Yuta, flustered, tried again. “Anyway… if you teach self-defense, I admire that. Must be hard… making people understand you’re not always in battle mode.”

Wrong move. Maki’s eyes went colder.

“Hard? No. I’m used to people thinking they need to explain who I am. Thought I’d gotten rid of that.”

Yuta tried to speak. She silenced him with a look.

“I’m not a puzzle to solve or a challenge to win. I don’t need your pity.”

“I wasn’t pitying you, just—”

“Enough.” She stood, grabbed her jacket, and left.

“Wow,” Nobara muttered, amused. “Record broken: they flee in under a minute. Now your turn.”

Maki didn’t answer. Just one last sharp glance at Yuta.

“Welcome to town.”

She stepped out, fists clenched in her worn sweatshirt pockets. The cool evening whipped her face, carrying faint rain, but it couldn’t soothe the irritation in her chest. Her heart pounded—not with excitement, but frustration: she’d let herself be caught up more than she wanted. Not her style to give in, especially to someone she barely knew.

She crossed the street, eyes fixed ahead, steps echoing on the wet pavement. Then, a familiar buzz startled her: she instinctively pulled out her phone, screen lighting her face:

[Mai – 21:37] Dad wants to know if you’re coming to Uncle’s birthday.
[Maki – 21:38] No.

Conversation closed. That was all. The Zenin family was always complicated: silences and expectations. More a minefield than a family: follow rules or be ignored.

Maki had stopped seeking her father’s approval years ago—he was happy to forget she existed. Mai… was different. They had drifted apart for reasons Maki would never say out loud, still burning in her throat. They texted occasionally, only when necessary—which for her meant more often than she liked.

She climbed to the second floor, opened her door, and called a mechanical greeting: “Panda? Togei?”

Silence. They were out of town for the weekend.

She kicked off her shoes and stretched. Small but livable apartment: two bedrooms, living room with kitchenette, perpetually messy bathroom. Living with Panda and Inumaki for almost two years. At first tough—Panda talked too much, Inumaki too little—but they found their balance. Sometimes went out together, other times marathoned trashy movies: Z-grade horror, ‘90s fantasy, poorly subtitled Japanese musicals.

Maki changed quickly, tossing her sweatshirt onto the couch, settling in something comfortable. Grabbed snacks and collapsed onto the couch, turning on TV. Perfect for zoning out.

Finally under the covers, exhaustion wrapped around her. Hands behind her head, eyes on the ceiling. She thought of the dojo, the kid she’d made cry, Gojo’s quips, Mai. And, reluctantly, the boy from the bar. That phrase. Hesitant, sincere:

"Look, your friend is really cute. But… she’s intimidating. Maybe if she smiled a little more, things would be easier.”

It had bothered her—not the words, but the feeling that somehow… it wasn’t wrong. Damn it.

She turned onto her side, pulling the blanket over her shoulders. She just hoped she wouldn’t see him again. He got on her nerves. That type of person always wasted her time.

Morning light filtered through half-drawn curtains, casting crooked lines on the floor. Maki opened her eyes slowly, face in the pillow, staying still. No messages, no alarm, no dojo class. Just silence and the glorious prospect of doing nothing.

She’d watch that movie. Last of the fantasy saga Gojo recommended—and which she ended up enjoying.

“If you like angry people swinging swords, you’ll love it,” he said. Right for once.

Maybe later laundry, bathroom cleaning. Or not. But first… coffee.

Glasses on, she got out of bed slowly, dragging her feet. Loose training shirt, mid-thigh, black stretchy underwear. Sweatpants somewhere on the floor.

Hallway, yawning, heading for the kitchen, until—

Scrash.

A sharp noise, like something falling.

Maki froze. Listened. Light footsteps. Someone in the kitchen. Someone who shouldn’t be there.

Heart racing, she pressed against the wall, ready. If a thief—she’d take them down. If Panda or Toge early—funny story.

She leaned, enough to see the shadow. Not Panda. Not Toge. Too thin. Messy. Perfect: a thief.

She lunged, grabbed him from behind, twisted, slammed him to the ground, jar and cup flying. The boy groaned, frozen under her.

“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!” she growled, knee on his back.

“Ow—wait!”

The voice. Maki raised an eyebrow. She recognized it just before turning him. Wide-eyed, messy hair, deer-in-headlights: guy from the bar.

Silence. Three long seconds. Then, tired and irritated: she let him go.

“You,” she muttered. “What the fu—”

Chapter Text

⋆ Welcome-ish ⋆

Maki stepped back just enough to give him a bit of air, but not enough to offer a real reprieve. She glared down at him, eyes narrowed and sharp as blades, her jaw tight in a tense, threatening expression. One hand hovered, ready to strike at any second.

“Are you following me?” Her voice was sharp, almost a venom-laced whisper.

Yuta’s eyes flew wide, startled and afraid. “Huh?!”

She didn’t back down, taking a step forward. “What the hell are you doing in my house?!” she pressed, her tone harsh and full of suspicion. “Did you follow me from the bar? Did you sneak in here?! Are you some kind of perverted stalker?!”

Yuta froze, breath short, his back still pressed against the floor as if trapped. He raised his hands in surrender, voice trembling. “No! No, wait—I’m not a stalker! I swear, it’s just a misunderstanding!”

“So you just break into people’s homes for fun?” she shot back, her tone dripping with disdain as she moved closer.

“I know Panda! And Toge too!” he blurted, almost breathless. “They gave me the keys! See?!”

He pulled out a keyring from his pocket, his hands trembling slightly. Maki snatched it, steady and precise, her eyes cold as she inspected it like she was hunting for a hidden trick. Only when she saw undeniable proof in front of her did she finally allow him to breathe again.

Yuta sat up slowly, hands still raised as if he were a hostage. His face was flushed, a thin sheen of sweat glistening at his hairline, his expression wavering between utter embarrassment and near-palpable panic.

“They told me I could stay here for a while… just until I found my footing,” he stammered, avoiding her eyes. “So I came today to drop off my stuff.”

Maki’s gaze flicked toward the entryway, where she noticed a suitcase she’d never seen before, with a jacket tossed over it, wrinkled and carelessly folded—clear signs of a recent arrival. Probably his.

Her eyes snapped back to him, sharp and suspicious, as if she were staring at a rusted knife: useless, but potentially dangerous.

“And they didn’t mention me?”

Yuta swallowed hard, almost choking. “No, they didn’t! They just said the couch was free and—”

“The couch,” she repeated, her voice colder still, cutting like glass. “How convenient. Shame my hoodie was on it.”

“I didn’t touch it!” he rushed out, almost pleading. “I didn’t even notice it, I swear! I was just… trying to make some tea.”

Maki’s gaze was glacial.

“And you thought it was normal to just walk in, make yourself tea, and wander around like it was your house—without even knowing who lives here?”

Yuta lifted his hands again in surrender. “Y-you’re right! It’s just that… I didn’t think… I mean, I didn’t realize you were… a roommate. You—you’re the one from the bar. I didn’t know you lived here.”

Her eyes narrowed further, head tilting slightly as if she were trying to read the truth between his words. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean, ‘you’re the one’ ?”

Yuta opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again, pale as a ghost. “…Nothing.”

Maki crossed her arms, tilting her head with a smile that was almost sarcastic, though it never reached her eyes. “You sure? Because it sounds like you’re about to dig yourself deeper.”

“I just meant… you don’t seem like the type for roommates. That’s all.”

The air hung heavy for a beat, both their breaths slowing in the tense silence.

“Can I stop talking now?” he asked weakly.

“No. It’s fun watching you dig your own grave.”

─•─•─•──•─•─•──•─•─•─

Suddenly, the sharp creak of the door broke the tension.

Their roommates, Inumaki Toge and Panda, stepped inside.

Panda—broad-shouldered and easygoing, holding a bento box from the pastry shop downstairs—looked worn out but still smiled warmly, his round face radiating calm kindness. His real name was Hajime, but everyone had long since started calling him Panda, and he’d grown oddly attached to the nickname.

Toge, leaner and more reserved, with pale hair framing a serious face and eyes that seemed to see beyond reality, followed in silence.

Both froze at the sight in front of them.

Panda glanced at Yuta and sighed, his expression settling into resigned frustration.

“Told you we should’ve hurried. Now it’s gonna be a nightmare convincing her.”

Inumaki let out a long, quiet sigh—his calm way of saying “yep.”

Maki, still visibly irritated, raked a hand through her messy hair and jabbed a finger at Yuta, her glare like ice. “What the hell is going on here?!”

Yuta, cheeks blazing and hands trembling slightly, shot a desperate look at them like he was begging for backup.

Panda cleared his throat, forcing a smile. “Ah, so you’ve already met.”

Inumaki nodded once, silently confirming.

Yuta scrambled to his feet, flustered. “Uh… maybe this isn’t a good time. I don’t want to cause trouble, I should just go—”

“You’re not going anywhere until you explain,” Maki cut in, stepping forward decisively as if blocking his escape.

Yuta lowered his gaze, defeated and visibly uncomfortable.

“Look,” Panda began, trying to lighten the mood, “Yuta and I have known each other for years… we’re teammates on Aetherfall Online .”

Maki raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“Seriously? Still obsessed with those nerdy raid games?”

Panda grimaced, but before he could respond, Inumaki elbowed him lightly—a silent reminder. Then, with a sly smirk, he added, “So you really did give him a… special welcome.” His tone was light, teasing.

It was only then that Maki realized she was still standing in her underwear.

A rush of heat colored her cheeks, irritation bubbling up with the embarrassment. She spun on Panda and launched a small cushion straight at his head with deadly accuracy, as if she could fling the awkwardness away. Then, in a quick but clumsy motion, she tugged her hoodie down over her thighs, hiding both herself and the flush spreading across her face.

When she turned back, Yuta was still staring—bright red and mortified.

“What?” she snapped, curt and dry.

He immediately averted his gaze, refusing eye contact.

“Have some mercy,” Panda said, shrugging. “He just broke up with his girlfriend and doesn’t have anywhere to go right now.”

“And that’s supposed to be my problem?” Maki replied. “We already talked about this: no more guests.”

Toge nudged him lightly, and Panda sheepishly held up the bento box like an offering.

“Here, some sweets to sweeten the deal.”

Maki eyed the pastries, then glanced at Yuta, then back at the sweets. With a reluctant sigh, she muttered, “Fine.”

She snatched the box from his hands in a sharp motion—but before they could celebrate, her voice cut the air flatly:

“Four days.”

The silence that followed dropped heavy as lead. Panda and Toge both flinched like kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

“Wh-what?!” Panda squeaked, a whole octave higher.

Already turning away, Maki cracked open the box with a sharp click and sighed in exasperation.

“Correction: three days.”

She flashed them a sharp glance and raised the box to reveal the evidence: one sweet was already missing.

“If you’re going to bribe me, at least do it properly.”

It was only then that Panda noticed Toge—expression perfectly blank—munching on the missing treat without a shred of guilt.

Yuta, still hovering awkwardly at the sidelines, instinctively dropped his gaze, somehow feeling guilty too.

Panda rubbed the back of his neck, fumbling for words. “Maki, come on… this apartment is as much yours as it is ours. You can’t just act like it’s only yours.”

She turned slowly, her gaze sharp as a blade slicing through his protest. Panda shivered, and even Yuta felt the air grow cold, like every window in the apartment had just been thrown open in midwinter.

“Excuse me?” she said, her arms crossing with finality.

“I think I’ve been far too indulgent with your little… guests over the years.”

She stepped closer, tilting her head slightly as she began counting on her fingers like she was presenting damning evidence.

“Yuji Itadori? Before moving in with Nobara and Megumi, he crashed here for a week. In just seven days he managed to turn the bathroom into a swimming pool after one of his ‘super showers’ to wash off the mud.”

Yuta blinked in disbelief, struggling to picture how much water it would take for that kind of disaster.

Toge stifled a laugh, but Maki didn’t even glance his way.

“Your colleague Nanami Kento…” she continued, flicking her gaze briefly at Panda, “…so impeccable, so proper, right? And yet he once left a pot on the stove for hours. There was so much smoke the alarm screamed at us, you couldn’t even see the kitchen door. We spent half a day scrubbing, and lit three scented candles to get rid of the smell.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“…Aoi Todo.”

Panda swallowed hard.

“The worst ,” she declared, gripping the pastry box like it was a case file.

“He turned the living room into a gym, moved all the furniture for workouts with you, broke my coffee table, and left shoe prints on the wall that are still there.”

Yuta lowered his gaze to the floor, picturing the scene, the corner of his mouth twitching despite himself.

Panda stared at the ground, defeated, while Toge quietly snickered to himself. But Maki wasn’t finished.

She pointed straight at him now.

“Oh, and you . How could I forget your little stray animal rescue phase? You showed up with a whole army of cats.”

Toge jolted, about to protest, but Maki’s voice cut him off.

“One hidden in the silverware drawer, another sleeping in the microwave, and one clawing up the new couch. Not to mention that fish smell we couldn’t get rid of for three weeks.”

Toge shrugged innocently, but Yuta’s eyes went wide at the thought of a cat in the microwave.

The two roommates exchanged a guilty glance, like kids caught red-handed.

Maki didn’t bother adding anything more—she simply shot Yuta a quick, almost imperceptible look before turning away with sharp finality.

Her steps echoed in the silence, measured and unyielding, until she disappeared down the hallway.

Yuta followed her with his eyes, the air in the room somehow lighter yet still hanging tense. He couldn’t decide whether to laugh at that parade of disasters… or to stay serious, respecting the fragile truce she had just granted.

─•─•─•──•─•─•──•─•─•─

After the discussion the day before, Panda and Toge had agreed not to push—for now, at least.

Yuta seemed to share the same mindset: he didn’t want to make the already tense dynamic between him and Maki worse. So, for the few days he was allowed to stay, he planned to be as unobtrusive as possible… while looking for another place to stay.

The next morning, he was sitting in the kitchen, phone in hand, comparing prices at some B&Bs. But a sharp sound from the common room caught his attention.

Maki was bent over the table, face set in sheer determination, gripping an HDMI cable like it was a weapon. She pushed it into the screen, twisted it, tried again. Nothing.

“If you don’t move now, I swear I’ll break you,” she muttered—more to the cable than the TV.

Yuta watched from the kitchen, unsure if he should intervene. Eventually, he leaned on the doorway.

“Maki?” he said softly, careful not to intrude. “If you want… I can hel—”

“I’ve got this,” she snapped, without looking back.

The door suddenly swung open.

“MAKI!”

Panda appeared, waving an empty package in his paws. “Don’t tell me you took my backup ramen again!”

“I don’t have time for your paranoia,” she replied, eyes still on the screen.

“So… that’s a yes?”

“I didn’t say yes!”

“But you didn’t say no either!”

“Why waste words on you?”

“Ah, so it’s a yes.”

“Panda…” Maki’s voice was low but firm—better to leave it there.

Yuta cleared his throat, drawing their attention.

“Uh… maybe I could take a look?”

Maki stared at him for a moment, then let out a half-sigh and handed him the cable.

“Go ahead.”

Yuta bent over the TV, hands steady despite his heart beating a little faster than usual.

“Happened to me once at work… it wasn’t the cable, just the HDMI port was a little loose.”

Maki watched, arms crossed, seemingly impassive—but Yuta could tell every movement was measured. Her eyes stayed on his hands, as if judging every gesture. Occasionally, a lip twitched or a brow furrowed—tiny signs betraying her focus and a nervousness she would never admit.

As he worked, Yuta paused.

“What’s this screen for?”

Maki exhaled, her tone softening slightly.

“I have a demonstration at the dojo tomorrow… I need to show some self-defense techniques, and that damn projector refuses to cooperate.”

She ran a hand through her hair, shoulders slightly hunched, weighed down by the coming day. Her eyes dropped to the floor for a moment.

Her gaze returned to Yuta. For some reason, she felt compelled to speak.

“So… you work at a museum?”

Yuta blinked, surprised by the direct question. He gave a small, embarrassed smile.

“I did… had to leave my position, but it’s nothing serious. I’ll try somewhere else.”

Maki studied him intently, eyes scrutinizing. 

“For example?”

“The Arcanum Museum,” Yuta said lightly. “While looking for hotels, I found a listing…”

She raised an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly—a subconscious hint of curiosity behind her cold mask.

“Can’t you stay with another friend? Or your parents?”

Yuta paused, struck by the question, but hid his embarrassment.

“…My parents passed away many years ago. I’m an only child.”

Maki stiffened slightly.

“ Damn ,” she thought. She really had no tact.

Yuta noticed her subtle discomfort and tried to lighten the mood with a timid smile.

“Well… at least I skipped the whole family drama phase.”

Maki flushed faintly, surprised at his lighthearted tone after such a delicate revelation. She looked down, biting her lower lip—a fleeting relief that he didn’t judge her. The tension softened.

“I asked a few friends… some couldn’t, and others live far away. I don’t want to move too far. I like it here.”

Her words were simple but sincere. Maki felt a twinge of embarrassment, but also warmth: he seemed genuinely harmless and reliable. For a moment, her shoulders relaxed slightly—a small sign of openness.

In that moment, Panda peeked in from the doorway.

“So, about the ramen… does that mean yes?” he asked hopefully.

“Not now!” They replied together, exchanging a brief, conspiratorial glance.

With a sharp click, the screen came to life.

“All set,” Yuta said, standing.

Maki blushed faintly, almost imperceptibly, but enough for Yuta to notice. 

“…Thanks.”

She watched him go into the kitchen, a strange tightness in her stomach. He hadn’t complained. He hadn’t argued when she set the limit of a few days. He just smiled, as if everything was fine. That calm, stubborn patience irritated her more than any protest could.

She still had her parents. Technically. But it was as if they didn’t exist. Cutting ties had been inevitable, and now the connection was just a name, empty.

Not the same kind of loss as Yuta’s… but she knew the taste.

And if it had been her in his position, Nobara, Panda, or Toge would never have turned her away.

Not even Gojo, annoying as he could be, would have left her stranded.

She let out a long sigh, realizing what she had to do.

“You can stay a bit longer,” she admitted.

From the kitchen, Yuta peeked out, staring in disbelief.

“Really?”

She averted her gaze, lowering her eyelids slightly, a hint of a smile she couldn’t hide.

“Yes, really.”

He couldn’t see it, but Yuta felt immense relief and gratitude.

“Thank you, Maki!”

She huffed, masking her discomfort, then added, a little lighter:

“Anyway… out of all the guests we’ve had, you seem the sharpest.”

Those words drew a genuine smile across Yuta’s face, and for the first time since arriving, he truly felt at ease.

Chapter Text

⋆ Roommates, For Now ⋆

That same evening, a knock echoed against the door—sharp, impatient.

“Maki! Hurry up! We’re gonna be late for the movie!” Nobara’s voice carried through, full of exasperated urgency.

But no reply came from inside.

A few seconds later, the door creaked open. Nobara smiled, ready to see her friend step out—only to be met by someone else entirely.
She blinked, confused, staring at the boy in front of her. And then, like a flash, recognition hit.

Yuta didn’t even get the chance to say hello before, in one swift motion, he was grabbed and slammed to the floor with a precise, practiced move.

“What the hell are you doing here?! Where’s Maki?!” Nobara barked, eyes blazing as she scanned the room in a frenzy—until Maki finally emerged from the bathroom, toothbrush in her mouth and hair tied back.

“I heard you. No need to yell,” she said calmly, her voice low and rough as she leaned against the doorframe.

Her gaze dropped to Yuta, sprawled out on the floor.

“What are you doing down there?”

He rubbed his aching arm, shooting an exasperated glance at Nobara.

“It’s not my fault! Why do all the girls keep throwing me around like this?!”

Nobara looked between the two of them, eyebrows furrowed.

“Care to explain what’s going on? And more importantly—what’s bar guy doing here?” She paused, eyes narrowing. “Don’t tell me you picked him up after that night?!”

Yuta’s face flushed instantly, cheeks pink against his pale skin. Maki almost choked on her toothbrush.

“W-what the hell are you implying?!” she sputtered, gesturing sharply at Yuta. “Does that look even remotely possible?!”

Seeing Nobara’s skeptical expression, she hurried to add, “Believe it or not, he’s a friend of my roommates.” Her face was still burning red as she finished.

Meanwhile, Yuta scrambled back to his feet, trying to straighten his wrinkled shirt. He offered Nobara a sheepish smile and a small wave.

“We didn’t get to introduce ourselves properly at the bar. I’m Yuta Okkotsu. Nice to meet you.”

She hesitated for a moment, then returned the handshake with a faint smile.

“…Nobara Kugisaki. Likewise.”

With a sigh that was equal parts relief and annoyance, Maki finally cut in.

“Great. Now that you’re acquainted, can I please finish getting ready?”

She turned back into the bathroom, closing the door behind her with a decisive click.

For a moment, Yuta and Nobara stood there in silence, looking at each other.

“So… last night was just a coincidence?” Nobara asked, tilting her head curiously.

“I’d say so,” Yuta replied, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. “I had no idea Maki was living with Panda and Toge.”

Nobara chuckled, amused by the situation.

“Guess that first meeting was… memorable, considering how it ended at the bar.”

Yuta ran a hand through his hair, visibly embarrassed.

“Yeah, pretty eventful.”

Then, catching her look, he added with a half-smile:

“You’re not the only one who’s sent me crashing to the floor.”

She burst out laughing.

“Who do you think taught me that move?”

Just then, Maki reemerged, drying her hands with a towel.

“Looks like you two are getting along,” she muttered.

Nobara crossed her arms, a faint reproach in her eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me anything?”

Maki shrugged, her expression unreadable.

“Didn’t seem like something worth announcing,” she said flatly, grabbing her jacket from the chair. “Come on, we’re gonna be late.”

“Oh, right!” Nobara grinned and followed.

Yuta stepped forward to open the door for them, a small gesture of courtesy.

“How thoughtful,” Nobara remarked as she walked past him.

Meanwhile, Maki wrestled with her jacket zipper, muttering under her breath.

“Damn thing…”

Her friend rolled her eyes, amused.

“I don’t get why you keep wearing that thing.”

“Because it’s comfortable,” Maki shot back, tugging again at the zipper.

“It’s broken. And wrinkled.”

“It’s lived in ,” Maki retorted, making another cautious attempt to pull it up.

Yuta, still by the door, stepped closer. Just as Maki was about to yank at it again, he gently laid a hand over hers.

“Wait. Let me help.”

She froze, startled by the touch—heat shot up her arm, staining her cheeks red. For an instant she stood perfectly still, eyes wide, before pulling back sharply.

“Hey! I don’t need a babysitter,” she snapped, her voice a little too quick, a little too shaky to mask the flush in her face.

Yuta didn’t falter.

“I just don’t want you to break it.” His calm smile never wavered as he focused on the zipper. With one smooth motion, he pulled it up, the sound of the click echoing softly in the air.

He stepped back, giving her space.

Maki stared at him, brows furrowed, still blushing faintly. She couldn’t decide whether to thank him or scold him, so instead she looked away, burying herself in the jacket as if it could hide her expression.

“Didn’t need your help,” she muttered. But the warmth in her face betrayed her words.

From the doorway, Nobara watched with a grin growing wider by the second. Arms crossed, she tilted her head.

“Mm… looked like you needed it to me,” she said innocently, her tone sharp as a pin.

Maki spun toward her, eyes blazing.

“No one asked you, Nobara!” she barked, more embarrassed than angry.

Her friend just laughed, satisfied, and strolled down the hallway, humming to herself like she’d just witnessed the funniest show of the night.

And maybe, just maybe, she had.

⸻ ✧ ⸻

The air finally seemed lighter, but Yuta knew full well that living together wouldn’t be all sunshine and roses. At first, he thought a bit of flexibility and a few simple rules would be enough to make everything run smoothly.

But then came the small daily battles, waged in the form of sticky notes plastered everywhere—especially on the fridge.

“Out of milk. Real milk, not that zen broth you drink.” – Maki.
Ever diligent and optimistic, he replied with a smile and another note:
“Milk restocked! By real you mean… whole, right? ^^” – Yuta.

From that moment on, the fridge door became a battlefield of written skirmishes.

Passive-aggressive comments, calls for civility, pseudo-philosophical reflections in sticky-note format. The colors matched the tone: yellow for neutral messages, pink for sharper ones, acid green for those poorly disguised insults.

Toge, amused and meticulous as always, began archiving every single note in a transparent binder, neatly labeled in his fine handwriting: “Chronicles of the Rainbow War.”

Then came the Cold War.

Literally: over the bathroom light.

Yuta was the kind of person who turned off every switch, even if he was leaving for just five seconds. A zen-like, almost ascetic philosophy about energy saving.

Maki, on the other hand, left the light on just to answer the intercom or check a notification on her phone.

New sticky notes appeared on the bathroom door.

“Saving is living. – Yuta”
“Living is turning the light on. – Maki”

Toge printed them in A4 size and pinned them to the fridge with a rice-ball-shaped magnet.

Panda, thrilled, turned them into a meme and sent it to his Discord group.

⸻ ✧ ⸻

Another battle took place between the sheets.

Or rather: in the washing machine.

One evening, Maki came home to find one of her socks—black, single, and perfectly folded—sitting on the entryway shelf. She picked it up between two fingers, as if it were radioactive.

“You touched my clothes?” she asked, her voice cold as ice.

Yuta sat up straight on the couch, visibly confused.

“I did the laundry. I just… folded them so they wouldn’t wrinkle.”

She shot him a glare, eyes sharp as blades.

“Don’t you ever go near my things again.”

Yuta flushed crimson, ears burning, hands raised in immediate surrender.

Panda strolled past, chuckling.

“Guess that’s a no on shared laundry.”

⸻ ✧ ⸻

Online gaming nights were a sacred ritual.
Yuta, Toge, and Panda would hole up in the living room with wireless headsets, snacks scattered everywhere, and half-empty bottles of water. The lights were off, the TV screen the only source of illumination—like a window into another world.

One evening, Maki came home late. The moment she stepped through the door, a chorus of shouts nearly burst her eardrums: 

“Activate Shadow Seal!”
“Yuta, heal me! HEAL ME!”
“Toge, spiral attack, go!”

She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, wearing the expression of a tired, exasperated parent.

“This is why none of you have a social life.”

Still glued to the screen, Yuta replied without missing a beat:

“Toge just saved Panda from a demonic colossus. That’s very social.”

Inumaki, quiet but supportive, raised his fist in silent victory.

⸻ ✧ ⸻

Even at the dinner table, their differences were impossible to ignore.

Yuta took his time preparing balanced meals: golden pan-seared tofu, julienned carrots, lightly blanched spinach. Everything neatly arranged, as if he were making a sacred offering.

Maki, on the other hand, plopped down that night with a soda in one hand, a greasy paper bag of fries in the other, and a fried burger dripping oil onto the napkin. She sat cross-legged in baggy jeans and a wrinkled striped t-shirt, her gaze fixed on him in open challenge.

Yuta set his chopsticks down slowly, watching her in silence.

Maki arched a brow, biting into a fry.

“Got something to say?” she asked.

“Only that… maybe once in a while, you could eat something that hasn’t been fried twice.”

She popped another fry into her mouth, deliberately.

“Your tofu looks like a depressed sponge.”

Panda plopped down between them with uncontainable enthusiasm.

“Can I taste both?”

Meanwhile, Toge passed quietly behind them, snatching a handful of fries before vanishing down the hallway.

⸻ ✧ ⸻

And that’s how things went.

Between fridge notes, forgotten lights, questionable dinners, and boss fights online, their days passed messy, noisy, and strange.

And though none of them would ever admit it, the house had never felt so alive.

⸻ ✧ ⸻

The bar wasn’t particularly crowded that night. Just a few scattered customers, each lost in their own thoughts, with the usual background of clinking glasses, low chatter, and a barely audible jazz playlist blending with the warm scent of citrus and alcohol. The soft amber lighting softened the edges of everything, giving the place an almost intimate feel.

Maki sat on her usual stool, arms crossed on the counter, her gaze dark and fixed on nothing, as if she had just returned from a war. The beer in front of her, half empty, was warming slowly.

Next to her, Nobara was sipping gracefully from a peach-colored cocktail, the ice lazily clinking in the glass. She still had her office jacket draped over the back of her chair, and one of her heels had already disappeared under the counter, abandoned as a sign of surrender.

“He’s unbearable!” Maki suddenly burst out, furrowing her brow as she took a decisive gulp from the bottle.

“He rearranges things that aren’t even his. I have my own logic, okay? And he destroys it every time, with his sticky notes and supermarket labels.”

“He’s still organizing the spices alphabetically?” Nobara asked, raising an eyebrow, the kind of question that already knew the answer too well.

“Alphabetical, expiration date, and spiciness level,” Maki replied, exasperated.“Three criteria. Who the hell needs three criteria?! And that bitter herbal tea he leaves steeping for half an hour… He’s contaminated the teapot. Now it tastes like dead leaves and regrets.”

Nobara didn’t laugh. Instead, she watched her silently, chin resting on her hand, eyes sharper than usual.

There was something there, and it seemed she was waiting for the right moment to mention it.

But Maki was already in full meltdown.

“And he was supposed to stay like… a week, right? ‘ Just until I find another place, ’ he said. It’s been over a month! At this point, I’m starting to think the whole ex-girlfriend story is a lie. Maybe he never even had a girlfriend. With those clumsy ways and that lost-puppy smile…”

Silence fell suddenly, like a shadow.

Nobara looked down at her glass, spinning it between her fingers.

Across the counter, Gojo polished a glass absentmindedly, but a half-smile had already formed on his lips.

Maki narrowed her eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked to Nobara suspiciously.

She didn’t answer.

“Well? What is it?”

Nobara shrugged casually, though her tone betrayed caution.

“Nothing. It’s just… you seem very involved for someone who’s only annoyed.”

“Involved?” Maki snapped, her voice low and sharp. “Involved in what ?”

“I know !” Gojo chimed in mischievously, taking advantage of the pause like an actor waiting for their cue. “You’ve got a crush on Yuta!”

Maki froze for a second. Then she blushed violently, as if someone had slapped her, staring at him with eyes that could make anyone tremble.

“Are you insane?! Absolutely not!”

Gojo leaned casually against the counter, tilting his head to the side, the usual idiot-genius smile plastered on his face.
“Maki, ever since that guy showed up, you seem more… how should I say… human. And you don’t stop talking about him. You should hear the way you say his name. Yuuutaaa ❤️”

He mimicked her in a nasal, longing tone, waving his hand in the air like he was reciting a tearjerker poem.

“Go clean the glass, Gojo,” Maki huffed, trying to hide her embarrassment behind a scowl.

But he was already off.

“Yuta this, Yuta that… come on, admit it. You’re head over heels like an onigiri left in the sun.”

“Stop or I’ll dump this glass on your face,” she growled, ready to act.

“And you’ve been looking good lately,” Gojo continued casually. “Hair done, new glasses frame, no death threats before 8 a.m…” He made a vague gesture with his hand, as if to indicate a general improvement. “Love makes you almost pleasant.”

Nobara nodded enthusiastically, trying not to laugh too loudly.

“It’s true! Today she said ‘ good morning ’ without insulting anyone. I was shocked.”

Maki shot her a sidelong glance.

It couldn’t be… even her.

Gojo pretended to think deeply.

“And… you haven’t punched him yet. So it must be serious.”

Nobara tried to stay serious but couldn’t help curling her lips into yet another smile. In the end, she gave in.

“…I thought so too. A little, anyway.”

Maki continued to stare at her, shocked, with an intensity that made Nobara momentarily regret speaking.

“Alright, fine! But what’s the problem?” she added quickly, shrugging. “He’s a good guy. Cute, kind…”

“He seems like the type who apologizes even when he breathes.”

“You spend a lot of time together…”

“Coincidence.”

“He’s sweet.”

“You’re making me lose my appetite,” she paused, noticing Gojo laughing.

“If he has all these qualities, why don’t you take him?!” she snapped, annoyed.

Nobara smiled, trying to ease the tension.

“Eh, I’d never go for someone like Yuta. Too… perfect, too ‘calm.’ Not for me.”

Gojo snickered, leaning against the counter.

“Right, better someone who drives you crazy every day—at least you know you’re alive!”

Nobara huffed, shaking her head in annoyance.

Maki squinted at her. “So someone like that is for me, huh?”

Her friend shrugged, amused.

“Well, maybe… or maybe I’m just curious to see how much he’ll drive you insane.”

“Not a chance,” Maki cut in, grabbing her beer and taking a long sip. “Nothing’s going on! You two keep this up and I swear I’m getting up and leaving.”

Gojo placed a hand on his chest, feigning offense.

“Just because you can’t admit it doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

Maki drained her glass and slammed it on the counter with a sharp snap.

“End of conversation!”

Gojo raised his hands in surrender. “Copy that, soldier.” But the smile on his lips didn’t fade for a second

Chapter Text

⋆ Lean On Me ⋆

The apartment door clicked shut behind her.

Maki kicked off her shoes with a slow, almost weary motion, steadying herself against the wall so she wouldn’t lose her balance. A slight wave of dizziness made her sway for a moment—nothing serious, just enough to remind her she’d probably had one drink too many tonight.

“Great way to distract myself,” she muttered, brushing her forehead with her hand.

She’d left the bar earlier than usual, annoyed. Or maybe shaken. Too much.

She didn’t want to think about it. Most of all, she didn’t want Gojo to be right.

Her steps were quiet down the hall, until she let out a sigh when she noticed the living room light still on. Inside, Yuta was curled up on the couch under a blanket far too big for him, his face lit by the soft glow of his laptop. The video was paused on a frame: a girl laughing in a sunlit kitchen. Something about it felt intimate, spontaneous—almost stolen.

“Let me guess,” Maki said, her words a little slurred as she headed for the fridge. “Another video on healthy cooking? Gourmet tofu and meditation between chopping carrots?”

Yuta startled, snapping the laptop shut like he’d been caught doing something forbidden.

“Uh… yeah. I mean—no. Not really. I was just cleaning up the hard drive and stumbled across some old videos, that’s all.”

Maki arched a brow as she pulled a soda from the fridge. The tab popped with a metallic click, and she took a long sip before narrowing her eyes at him.

“Panda and Toge?”

Yuta blinked, shrugging off the blanket. “Chrono Sigil IV tournament. They went to a friend’s place—better internet.”

“And you?” she asked absently. “Weird to see you without them.”

Yuta shrugged again, avoiding her gaze. “Didn’t feel like it.”

A thin silence stretched. Maki started toward her room, but halfway down the hall she stopped. Something in Yuta’s voice—maybe that low, frayed edge—stuck with her.

She turned back, leaned an elbow on the back of the couch. Her eyes flicked from the closed laptop to him.

“The girl in the video… your ex?”

Yuta nodded, eyes still down. “Her name’s Rika. We were together six years.”

Maki blinked. Six?

“Lately… things were falling apart. More silence, more distance. I can’t even explain why. Maybe we changed. Or just got tired. Work, routine… everything.”

His voice was quiet, like he was searching for the words inside himself rather than for her.

Maki studied him. Only now she noticed his fingers absentmindedly brushing something on his left hand. A ring.

“You were gonna get married?” she asked, low.

Yuta gave a bitter smile. “Yeah. It was a promise we made.”

She tilted her head toward his hand. “So why are you still wearing it?”

He looked at it, almost surprised. “I don’t know. Maybe I haven’t accepted it’s really over. Or maybe I’m just clinging to a habit.” He sighed. “When you build everything around one person, letting go… it’s like tearing down a house, brick by brick.”

Maki tilted her head slightly, watching him like she was trying to read between the lines. There was no pity in her eyes, only a quiet understanding—the kind reserved for someone who knows pain too well.

Yuta’s voice dropped. “How do you know when it’s really over?”

For a moment, she didn’t answer. Then she dropped onto the couch beside him, folding her legs under her body. She took another sip of soda before speaking, eyes fixed ahead.

“I think… when you start feeling lonelier together than you do alone. That’s when you know.”

Yuta nodded slowly, gaze lost in the empty space in front of him.

After a beat, his voice came back, hesitant. “Have you ever… felt that way?”

Maki stayed silent. Then she exhaled, leaning back.

“Sort of. But with my family.”

Yuta turned to her, surprised. She shook her head, as if to cut off any questions.
“That’s long over.”

He looked at her, unsure if he had the right to ask more.

She caught it, and for once didn’t back away. She huffed softly.

“My father wanted me to be something I wasn’t. I just wanted… to be free. To do things my way. So I cut ties.”

“That must’ve been hard.”

“No. It was necessary.” Maki rolled the can between her hands, watching the fizz collect against the metal. Her voice dropped.

“I’ve got a sister. Mai. We’re twins.”

Yuta blinked, eyebrows rising. “I didn’t know that.”

She gave a small shrug, like it wasn’t something she brought up often.

“With Mai… it’s different. Not completely cut off. But still a mess.”

Yuta looked at her with respect. Not pity—Maki would never stand for that—but genuine understanding.

“Must be hard, living in that kind of limbo.”

She nodded. “You get used to it. Like a bruise that never heals, but at least you know where it is. You know it hurts.”

“Do you still talk?”

Maki looked away, her voice dropping to a near whisper.

“More or less. In our own way.”

The silence that followed wasn’t tense anymore. It was full, shared. The kind where words aren’t needed.

Then Yuta murmured, “Thanks. Sometimes it just feels good to talk.”

Maki let out a short laugh, almost surprised at herself. “Don’t get used to it. Usually I throw kicks, not conversations.”

Yuta smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

⸻ ✧ ⸻

The conversation faded on its own, without the need to actually close it. What remained was a quiet silence, different from before. It wasn’t made of distance, but of truce. Of something that had finally found its place.

Maki was still holding the can tightly in her hands, legs crossed on the couch, her shoulders slightly hunched as her chin hovered over the rim of the can. Her gaze was vague, lost in the reflection of the turned-off TV. Yuta had stood up to shut down his laptop, but froze halfway when he heard her speak, her voice softer than usual—almost tired.

“We could… watch one of those dumb movies Gojo keeps recommending. You know, the kind that’s spectacularly awful?”

She said it offhandedly, like it didn’t really matter to her. But the way she avoided looking at him, the way her fingers played with the rim of the can, betrayed her. It was an invitation in disguise, careful and hesitant.

Yuta only nodded with a faint smile, warmth easing the tension in his chest. They picked a random movie—the first with an over-the-top title and a ridiculous poster. It was terrible—and perfect.

Soon enough, they were commenting on every scene, bouncing off each other with sharp quips, goofy voices, merciless judgments. They talked over one another, laughed loud, exchanged glances that felt like secrets shared. For the first time in a long while, Yuta forgot to guard his words, and Maki forgot to keep her walls so high.

At some point, without thinking, Yuta pulled up the blanket on the couch and draped it over her too. It was a small, almost instinctive gesture, but full of care. Maki didn’t say anything, only tugged it a little higher with a vague grunt, as if to say, “Fine, but don’t make it a big deal.”

She didn’t look at him, but she didn’t push him away either—and that was enough.

The evening carried on that way, until fatigue and the remnants of alcohol began to set in. Maki sank into the backrest, shoulders loosening, her gaze heavy. Then, without realizing it, she slowly tipped sideways. Her head came to rest on Yuta’s shoulder with such quiet naturalness it made his chest ache.

He held his breath. He stiffened a little, caught off guard, but didn’t move away. He didn’t want to.

Instead, he let the warmth of her weight settle against him, fragile and real.

Maki slept with her brow faintly furrowed, as if even in sleep she couldn’t fully let go. Her tied-up hair left the thin line of her neck exposed; her profile was sharp, defined, and yet in that moment it seemed different. Softer. More vulnerable.

And maybe—just maybe—more his to protect.

Yuta watched her in silence. Maki wasn’t the kind of girl who could be summed up with easy adjectives. She wasn’t effortless, obvious beauty—she was sharp edges and stubborn fire, and yet disarmingly genuine.

And right now, asleep against his shoulder, she looked… stunning in a way that completely took him by surprise.

He didn’t dare move. Only a small, almost secret smile touched his lips as he kept perfectly still, holding onto the fragile miracle of the moment.

On the TV, a character shouted something absurd and melodramatic. But this time, no one laughed. No one commented.

⸻ ✧ ⸻

The morning light barely filtered through the half-closed curtains, a pale glow that seemed to ask for permission before entering. Maki woke slowly, her head pulsing with a dull, steady rhythm, as if someone were knocking softly from inside her skull. Not quite a headache — more like the muffled haze that alcohol left behind when it hadn’t been too much, but just enough.

Her gaze flicked down—her glasses weren’t on her face. They sat on the low table in front of the couch, just out of reach, catching the soft morning light. With a small, careful movement, she reached for them and slid them back on.

Then, she stretched carefully on the couch, legs numb, shoulders stiff. The blanket was still there, tangled to one side, and for a few seconds she couldn’t place where she was. Then it all came back. 

Yuta. The movie. The laughter. The ridiculous comments.

And then…

A warmth on her shoulder.

His breathing, close.

Had she fallen asleep?

Had she… slept there all the time?

She pushed herself upright, rubbing a hand over her face, still marked from the pillow. She turned instinctively, searching for a confirmation she didn’t even know she wanted — but it was a scent that found her first.

Coffee.

Fresh bread. Something sweet.

A moment later, Yuta appeared from the kitchen. His hair was a mess, his expression still sleepy, but he carried a tray in his hands with a calmness that felt almost serene.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, setting the breakfast down on the low table with such care it seemed he didn’t even want to wake her fully.

Maki stared at him for a moment, caught off guard. There it was again — that quiet kindness of his, so genuine it felt almost offensive. She quickly looked away, her cheeks already warm. She tugged her hoodie down to cover her unease.

“A bit tired… but fine,” she replied, her voice coming out more honest than she intended. Then her eyes narrowed. “Did I sleep here?”

Yuta sat down beside her, leaving just the right amount of space. Polite, respectful.

“Uh… let’s just say you lost the battle against sleep.”

He smiled, uncertain. As if afraid she’d be offended.

Maki said nothing. She just watched him.

He met her gaze, but silently. Something restrained lingered in the air — a fragile balance between what had happened and what neither of them dared to name.

And then the truce was broken.

“Well, look who finally woke up.”

Panda’s voice, muffled slightly by a toothbrush, drifted from the hallway along with the sound of his slow steps. He was still in pajamas, a towel draped over his shoulders.

Both Maki and Yuta turned at once, like they’d been caught red-handed.

“When we came back, you two were all snuggled up on the couch. Adorable. All that was missing was some cheesy background music.”

He grinned mischievously, savoring every second of the heavy silence that followed.

Maki didn’t reply.

But her silence was answer enough.

One of the big ones.

“Anyway, back to the bathroom. Just keep it down, okay? Toge’s still asleep.”

He chuckled, leaving behind an even denser quiet.

Yuta swallowed hard. He wanted to say something — to explain, minimize, insist that nothing had really happened. That it hadn’t been intentional. But no words seemed right.

“I… I didn’t want to wake you and… and then I passed out too. Really. It wasn’t—”

Maki cut him off with her eyes. Not her usual sharp glare — just something uncertain.

Maybe even she didn’t know what she felt.

She didn’t say anything.

She didn’t get angry.

She just rose slowly, leaving the untouched breakfast behind. She walked toward her room in silence, her steps steady, like someone still deciding whether to leave or to stay.

At the door, she paused for a moment. Then she closed it softly behind her.

Leaning back against the wood, she drew in a deep breath.

She could still feel the warmth on her shoulder, a lingering trace that refused to fade.

She shouldn’t have let herself go like that.

Not with Yuta.

Not with someone who still wore the ring of another story, another love that maybe wasn’t even over.

He couldn’t like her.

He shouldn’t.

And yet, as her heartbeat slowed and silence stretched across the room like a blanket, part of her began to wonder if this was really just a fleeting crush.

Because crushes usually didn’t cling to you this long.

⸻ ✧ ⸻

The morning dragged on, heavy and slow, like a wet cloth being dragged across the floor.

Maki crossed the living room with steady steps, a bottle of water in hand. Yuta was on the couch, laptop on his knees. The moment he noticed her, his eyes dropped quickly, as if he’d been caught hiding something.

She walked straight past him without a word.

Later, he knocked gently on her door.

“Ehi Maki. Do you want some tea?” he asked, his voice almost uncertain.

“No.”

She didn’t even open.

⸻ ✧ ⸻

They never spoke about that night again. Neither of them seemed willing to. Every now and then, they’d share a glance — fleeting, then quickly averted, their attention suddenly on their shoes, or on the weave of the carpet.

Nothing had happened — and yet something had shifted.

A new distance, subtle but palpable. As if they had crossed a line neither wanted to acknowledge.

Maki had no intention of exploring it.

Yuta was just the weird friend of his rommates. He had to stay that way. Period.

For the next few days, they stuck to the bare minimum.

Brief greetings. A note on the fridge.

— You finished the tea.
— I bought more. Thanks.

Everything seemed back to normal.

For now.

Chapter Text

⋆ Hot and Not ⋆

That Saturday morning had started off all wrong for Maki. She’d slept through her alarm, wasting precious minutes—but the worst was still to come. Toge had decided to hog the bathroom far longer than usual, caught up in one of his bizarre morning rituals. Today’s experiment? A “super-concentrated” shampoo-and-conditioner combo… which had turned the floor into an ice rink.

Maki had practically performed a slalom between wet slippers and slippery bottles.

Result? She was running late.

And, as if that weren’t enough, she hadn’t even had her coffee.

For her, that ritual was sacred—a small boost to survive a morning. Without it, the day was basically doomed.

And today? She had to supervise the promotion tests for the first-years. She knew exactly what she was in for: normally, even though the dojo was open to the public, parents dropped their kids off like a daycare and disappeared. But test day? Absolute chaos.

Suddenly, everyone remembered they had children and spent the entire session recording every move for their social media.

Maki hated it. She loved teaching—but she loathed how these parents made their kids feel self-conscious. Kids who would’ve gladly buried themselves under the tatami if they could.

Still… nothing technically banned parents from watching.

She’d tried, honestly.

But the giggles, awkward comments, useless questions… all part of the “from-hell” package.

Without coffee, this was already tragic.

She decided not to dwell. Maybe, by some miracle—or a benevolent deity finally taking pity—the parents would behave better than usual. A few out-of-place remarks, sure, but Maki could handle that.

Some had even learned that making noise during her classes was a bad idea. Almost all of them.

Because in one corner, a guy kept snickering at his phone like he was in a café, ignoring the unspoken “silence during class” rule.

Maki recognized him immediately: the older brother of one of her most… challenging students. Takumi, she thought.

She’d seen him before, and unfortunately, this wasn’t his first stunt.

At first, she tried to ignore it, but the muffled “pff!” and loud chuckle finally broke her patience.

She strode over, arms crossed.

“Hey, pretty boy. If you’re just here to distract, the door’s behind you.”

He blinked. “Huh? Me?”

“Who else? You’re the only one who can’t keep quiet.”

For a second, he seemed to remember where he was. Embarrassed, he scratched the back of his neck.

“Sorry… didn’t mean to.”

Maki was about to walk away, but he added, half-smiling, “By the way… for that move earlier, next time you should place your right foot a little more forward.”

She stopped, holding back a sigh.

“How?”

“Not bad… but for someone who knows their way around, you’re still a bit stiff. You need to loosen up.”

Maki stared at him.

Alright. He had crossed the line.

She really wanted to smack that smug face with her staff, but instead… she opted for public humiliation.

She turned, sizing him up.

“You talk like you’re an expert.”

“Well… not to brag, but I’ve done martial arts. I know a thing or two.”

From the back, his younger brother Keiji—hiding behind taller kids—covered his face with his hand, red as a tomato. Maki caught it instantly, one eyebrow raising in amusement. Then back to the blond, a look promising trouble.

“Perfect. Show me. Quick demo.”

The kids murmured excitedly, forming a circle. The younger brother stared wide-eyed, terrified.

The guy hesitated, all eyes on him, then nodded.

“Alright… though I don’t really like hurting a girl.”

Maki gave a sidelong glance, sharp smile.

“I won’t break you too many bones.”

They stepped onto the tatami. A few parents started recording—but strangely, she didn’t mind.

She didn’t even give him time: two quick, precise moves later, he was unbalanced and slammed to the ground in under five seconds. The thud echoed. “Oooooh!” the kids gasped.

Blond on the floor, eyes wide: “What the—”

Maki, hands on hips, smirk of disdain: “Next time, laugh quietly at your phone.”

The kids burst into laughter. She turned back to the group, as if nothing happened.

“Alright, back to tests. Keiji, you’re up. I’m sure you’ll do better than your brother.”

With that, she walked off. The older brother stayed on the floor, rubbing his side, unable to tear his eyes away from her.

⸻ ✧ ⸻

At the end of her students’ exams, Maki finally let out a long sigh.

A few parents came over to congratulate her, praising either the kids or how she had handled the day. She had to admit, it wasn’t so bad after all when everyone stayed in their place. And the kids, despite everything, always seemed happy at the end of lessons, with tired but satisfied smiles.

“Maki-sensei.”

Maki turned and saw Keiji, his gaze lowered, cheeks still a little pink.

“I just wanted to… apologize for earlier. For how Takumi acted.”

She regarded him for a moment, a small smile slipping onto her lips. Maybe because, in part, she could understand how it felt. Even if her own experience was different, that empathy struck her.

“It’s not your fault. You can’t choose your family, Keiji. I know that from experience.”

Her words seemed to hit him. He opened his mouth to reply, but his older brother nudged him back.

“Hey! I hope you didn’t say anything embarrassing about me!”

Maki sighed, bending slightly to pick up some training sticks to put away.

“No need. You already humiliated yourself earlier.”

She stepped aside, and only then noticed Yuta at the door. She blinked, surprised, a small shiver running down her spine.

“So… this is where you work?” he asked, stepping inside, looking around with the curiosity of a kid in a playground.

Maki gave a faint nod, shoulders slightly hunched, almost as if protecting herself. “Why are you here?”

The question came out a little sharp; for a moment, she worried something had happened at home.

“Right…” Yuta held out a to-go cup of coffee. Maki blinked, caught off guard.

“What—?”

“This morning, with all the yelling at Toge, I realized you didn’t get your coffee,” he said, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “So… I thought I’d bring it. Unless you already got one.”

Maki’s cheeks warmed, but she snapped back quickly.

“Even if I had, I wouldn’t have wasted it,” she said, voice firm.

She leaned toward the cup, glancing at Yuta for just a second. And—of course—a knot twisted in her stomach, mocking her.

Just coffee.

Really.

Nothing else.

No reason to think twice.

He’s just… being nice. Like with everyone.

That’s all.

“Fine,” she admitted, taking a short sip. “But don’t tell me you came all the way here just to bring me coffee.”

Yuta froze for a beat, then fumbled for his phone, a little embarrassed. “Toge found it in the kitchen this morning. You must’ve left it behind in the rush.”

“Ah… thanks,” Maki murmured, eyes lingering on the screen for a moment.

A quiet pause settled between them. Since the couch incident, words had been scarce. Neither seemed ready to touch the topic. Maybe they never would. After all… nothing had happened.

Just then, a parent stepped out, their daughter giving Maki a polite bow.

“Parents’ day?” Yuta joked, trying to break the silence.

“Something like that,” she replied, shrugging with a tired but gentle smile. “Someone has to make sure the kids don’t break themselves.”

He chuckled softly, noticing she was holding some equipment to put away.

“Want a hand?” he offered, trying to help.

She blinked, a faint blush rising to her ears. “No, it’s fine. And didn’t you have an interview today?”

“Already done. They’ll let me know in a few days, so…” He shrugged, trying to look casual. “…I’ve got free time.”

“Suit yourself.” Maki gestured toward the scattered sticks and gloves. “Then put that stuff away.”

“At your service!” Yuta replied with a small bow, then went off to organize the equipment.

That’s when a voice behind her made her stiffen, sending a chill down her spine.

“Hey, Maki-chan.”

She spun around, eyebrows furrowed and arms tensing as if to push him away… and nearly choked on her coffee in the process. “Don’t you dare call me that.”

Takumi raised his hands in surrender, a mischievous smile on his face.

“Uh… okay! Maybe… Zenin-chan?”

“Not even.”

“Coach?”

Maki sighed, massaging her temple lightly. The blush on her cheeks didn’t fade, and her eyes betrayed a flicker of irritation.

“What is it?”

“Oh, well…” Takumi scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed. “…I wanted… your number.”

For a moment, Maki froze. Her heart beat a little faster, her hands clenched almost to grab something nearby. Her face tinted faintly, but she tried not to show it.

“Excuse me? And why on earth would I give it to you?”

“Why?” he laughed, tilting his head with a cheeky grin. “To ask you out.”

She stared, too incredulous to even notice the students passing by.

“When you took me down earlier, I was speechless. No girl’s ever caught me off guard like that.”

Maki narrowed her eyes, holding back a half-smile, trying to regain her composure.

“Really? Strange. I’d have thought a guy like you would be comfortable around girls.”

Takumi tilted his head slightly, eyes sparkling with challenge.

“In a way. So? How about it? I’ll take you out later—if you’re not busy, of course.”

Maki watched him, arms crossed, cheeks still warm, unable to look away from this unusually bold guy.

From the back of the room, Yuta was putting the last pair of gloves in the locker. At the voice behind her, he spun around, and for a moment, his usual easy smile faltered.

He had caught part of the conversation between Maki and that guy, and even if he didn’t want to admit it, a twinge of annoyance ran through him.

He tried to hide it by meticulously folding a mat, nervously nibbling the inside of his cheek.

When he finally went back toward Maki, the smile he gave her was a little tenser than usual.

“I’ve put everything away,” he said softly. “Want me to do anything else?”

Takumi watched him closely, while Yuta tried to meet his gaze, keeping calm. Maki tilted her head slightly, noting Yuta’s small efforts to tidy up.

“That locker’s faulty… are you sure you closed it properly?”

The other started to respond, but a sudden crash cut him off.

Maki sighed, stepping aside. “I’ll handle it.”

She walked off, leaving the two guys alone in the room.

Yuta, slightly uncomfortable, forced a smile.

“Uh… hi. I’m Yuta.”

“Takumi.”

He shook Yuta’s hand with more force than expected, nearly making him jump. He looked like the type used to being noticed.

The blond nodded toward a kid in the background. “Do you have a little brother to bring along too?”

Yuta blinked, surprised. “Oh, no… I just came by to drop something off for Maki.”

“I see.”

Takumi glanced at Maki, giving a smile. “Your friend’s really cute.”

Instinctively, Yuta nodded, then realized what he’d just agreed to and blushed.

“W-what? I mean… y-yeah, but… you…”

“I asked her out, but she didn’t seem too keen.”

Takumi shrugged, as if a closed door didn’t bother him.

A pang of irritation tightened Yuta’s stomach—an irrational impulse he tried to hide behind a wobbly smile.

“Well… Don’t take it personally… Maki’s just… Maki.”

Takumi chuckled softly, but the confidence in his eyes didn’t sit well with Yuta.

“Oh, don’t worry. I like a challenge.”

He ran a hand through his hair, adding, “I usually go for girls who are a bit… easier, let’s say. But she impressed me—in every way. And I want to go out with her.”

Yuta tried to smile back, but it came out stiff, too tight.

“Maybe find out what she wants first before writing the end credits.”

The words were sharper than he intended, and Takumi seemed to notice. He studied Yuta for a moment, then raised an eyebrow.

“Tell me… are you her boyfriend, by any chance?”

At those words, Yuta’s face heated instantly. “W-what?! N-no!”

Right then, Maki came back, stepping into the scene just in time to hear the last lines. She froze, eyebrows slightly raised.

Yuta, flustered, tried to find the right words. “I mean… w-we just live together…”

Takumi looked between them, confused. “Live together?”

“Yeah, but…”

“... You’re roommates, then?”

“Kind of… at the moment I’m on her couch.”

Maki rolled her eyes and smacked him on the shoulder, a faint blush on her cheeks. “What nonsense are you talking?!”

She turned to Takumi, gaze firm.

“Yuta is a friend of my roommates.”

Takumi studied both of them, sensing a strange tension in the air.

“So… you’re not together?”

Both jumped slightly, cheeks a little red.

“Of course not!” Maki snapped.

Takumi smiled again, brazen as ever, showing no hint of defeat. “Perfect. Then it’s just you and me.”

Maki studied him for a moment, wary, and felt a strange urge to hit him. But there was something in his attitude that left her strangely unsettled.

Takumi wasn’t unattractive at all. His slightly messy blond hair, easy smile, and bright hazelnut eyes gave him that like-the-world-was-at-his-feet kind of vibe. The way he moved, confident and effortless, made everything seem easy for him.

And maybe that was exactly why she wasn’t buying it. That kind of confidence and charm didn’t intimidate her—it irritated her.

Meanwhile, Yuta watched, unsure what to feel. A mix of annoyance and curiosity knotted his stomach, but one thing was clear: over time he had learned enough about her to know a guy like this would never catch her interest. At least, he hoped.

“You’re pretty confident…”

Takumi looked up, ready to respond, but she beat him to it, unshakably firm:

“The answer is no.”

“W-what?” he stammered, surprised.

“I don’t date my students’ brothers. That’s the rule,” she cut him off, decisively.

“What kind of rule is that?”

“Mine. And it works.”

With that, she walked off, glancing briefly at Yuta.

“Y-yes!” he replied, following her.

Takumi watched them leave for a moment, brow slightly furrowed, then a small half-smile appeared. No defeat, no offense—just amusement. 

Yuta caught Takumi’s smile out of the corner of his eye and felt a flicker of irritation… quickly replaced by relief. Maki had said no.

He didn’t need to know why—her no was enough.

Finally, for the first time that chaotic afternoon, he could just breathe.

Chapter Text

⋆ Bathroom: 1, Yuta: 0 ⋆

They walked slowly toward home, their steps falling in rhythm with light breaths that mingled with the cool evening air. Despite the calm of the walk, Maki’s mind kept spinning; the encounter with Takumi replayed over and over.

Trying to lighten the mood, Yuta suggested grabbing something along the way. They ended up at a small bubble tea stand nearby.

As Maki took a sip, the ping of a notification made her flinch. A glance at her phone revealed that Takumi had somehow tracked her down on social media and left a message.

A shiver of annoyance ran down her spine.

“I can’t believe this…” she muttered, shrugging off her jacket. “How can he not get it when someone says no?”

Yuta offered a small, teasing smile, trying not to show his own irritation.

“Well… he did seem… confident.”

“Confident?!” Maki looked at him, exasperated. “He’s arrogant, pushy, and totally convinced I was supposed to say yes without even thinking!”

He raised his eyebrows, lips twitching in amusement.

“Maybe Nobara isn’t entirely wrong,” Maki added, shrugging. “I seem to attract this kind of person.”

“That’s not true,” Yuta said with a sigh, biting the inside of his cheek. “You know, I’ve had my fair share of… messy situations too.”

Maki tilted her head, intrigued. “Wasn’t it just that one thing with Rika?”

Yuta’s ears turned pink. “But… how…”

“Toge talks. When he wants to,” she teased, nudging him slightly.

He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… in school, I went out with my first girlfriend… for a month.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Wow, a real womanizer.”

Yuta chuckled nervously. “And that’s not even counting all the times I completely embarrassed myself.”

“Really?” she asked, grinning. “I would never have guessed…”

He looked down, nibbling his lip. “Once, in middle school, I tried to confess to a girl with a little note… but my hands were shaking so badly I wrote her name wrong.”

Maki bit back a laugh, covering her mouth.

“How did you not notice immediately?”

“I was panicked! I gave it to her anyway…” Yuta admitted, red all the way to his ears. “She stared at me, confused, for like five seconds… then burst out laughing in front of everyone.”

“You’re hopeless.”

He made a face, half embarrassed, half amused. “Yeah… let’s just say love and I have never been very coordinated.”

Maki smiled softly, shaking her head. “Not the end of the world. But you’re not the worst. Once Nobara convinced me to go out with a guy who thought he was a medium. He wanted to take me on a night tour of cemeteries to ‘connect with spirits.’” A small smirk tugged at her lips. “In the end… I was the one who scared him half to death.”

Yuta laughed quietly, shaking his head. “No way.”

“Way,” Maki said, a glint of pride in her eyes. “He had no idea who he was dealing with.”

She crushed her empty bubble tea cup with a decisive motion and tossed it in the trash.

Yuta swallowed, then looked at her with a teasing grin.

“Well… at least we can say we have plenty of experience, right?”

For the first time that afternoon, Maki’s smile felt light, genuine.

“Yeah… experience to sell… or avoid, depending on the case.”

They walked together like that, talking about little past mischiefs, improbable stories, and absurd moments. As their shadows stretched across the quiet sidewalk, a quiet sense of closeness settled between them—subtle, but unmistakably there.

Still, the reality of living together—with its little annoyances and daily routines—lurked just around the corner, a gentle reminder that even the calmest moments weren’t ever completely uncomplicated.

⸻ ✧ ⸻

It was late morning, and the apartment smelled of coffee and soap.

Yuta, still clutching his mug of tea with his mind wrapped in the fog of sleep, dragged himself to the bathroom door. His bare feet shuffled across the floor, eyes glazed over. 

He knocked lightly with his knuckles, without much conviction.

“Panda? You done? I need to brush my teeth.”

From inside came only the sound of running water, which suddenly stopped, followed by an indecipherable huff. 

No real answer. No voice.

Yuta sighed. “Come on, hurry up…”

He pushed the door slightly. It wasn’t locked.

“I’ll just step in for a second,” he announced, with the nonchalance of someone about to make a historical mistake.

He was sure he’d find Panda. Maybe with one of his exotic fruit face masks on, humming something completely off-key.

But instead—

Maki.

Wrapped in a towel.

Fresh out of the shower.

Her dark hair clung damp against her shoulders, drops of water running down her back. 

The warm bathroom light carved soft lines over her figure, giving her an almost unreal aura.

Yuta froze.

Completely.

His brain fired off an emergency signal to every vital function: CRASH INCOMING.

For half a second there was nothing.

No thoughts.

No sound.

Just the sharp, disastrous awareness that he had crossed a line from which there was no return.

Then Maki turned.

And the detonation was immediate.

“ARE YOU IDIOT?!”

Yuta petrified on the spot. Mouth open, eyes wide, mug still trembling in his hands. 

A deer caught in headlights—or rather, an idiot caught in front of a warrior armed with shampoo.

“I—I-I thought it was Panda! I swear! R-really! I thought—”

“PANDA DOESN’T HAVE TITS!”

Maki grabbed blindly for the first thing within reach: a shampoo bottle.

Yuta scrambled backwards, tripping over the bathmat.

“WAIT—NO—”

Shampoo.

Flight.

Impact.

“OW!”

“Get out before I throw the body wash too!”

End of discussion.

Yuta vanished. He slipped out like an amateur thief and shut the door as fast and desperately as possible. 

Behind him, Maki started swearing in three different languages—maybe even a dialect.

Still dazed, Yuta rubbed his sore shoulder.

Heat had climbed all the way up to his ears, shame gnawing down his spine.

He stumbled back into the living room in a state of shock, eyes blank, still holding the mug as if it were a weapon.

Panda popped out of the fridge with half a banana in hand, looking blissfully unconcerned.

“Yo. I heard shouting. Something happen?”

Yuta didn’t even look at him. He dropped onto the couch with a thud that seemed to echo from another dimension.

“D-don’t go into the bathroom.”

Panda raised an eyebrow, amused. 

“Why? Swamp monster?”

“Worse.”

Panda froze. Slowly, he straightened.

“…Maki?”

Yuta nodded slowly, as if still processing the trauma.

Panda stared, his pupils widening.

“You saw—?”

Yuta lifted a solemn finger, his gaze still fixed straight ahead.

“Let’s never speak of it again.”

⸻ ✧ ⸻

Later, with his mind a little clearer (but only a little), Yuta stared at the kitchen table with the intensity of an existential philosopher.

Don’t think about it.

Don’t think about it.

DON’T think about it.

But it was impossible. Because it came back every time he closed his eyes.

The towel. The steam. Maki’s furious expression.

And that exact moment when he had thought: "Maki is… hot?"

No. No, no, no.

NO.

He couldn’t think that. 

Not in that context. 

Not with the marks of the shampoo bottle still on his shoulder.

And yet, something inside him had cracked. Or sparked.

And now he wasn’t sure if he should feel worse for being an idiot…

…or for not being able to stop grinning like one. 

⸻ ✧ ⸻

A few minutes later, Maki came out of the bathroom with her damp hair twisted into an improvised towel turban. 

She was wearing a striped t-shirt and loose pants, the kind designed for comfort. Her look clearly said: *I haven’t forgotten anything.*

Yuta was sitting at the table, back as straight as a pole, hands wrapped around his mug like it could lend him courage. 

The moment Maki entered the room, he shot upright.

“Hey,” he mumbled, trying to sound calm.

She gave him a sharp, uncompromising look. “Yeah, hey my ass.”

Yuta lowered his gaze, flustered. “I’m really sorry about earlier. Honestly. I thought it was Panda. It’s… it’s his fault!”

Maki huffed, pulling out a hair tie to put her hair up. “Sure. Always Panda’s fault.”

As if summoned by the name, Panda emerged from the kitchen with a pocky stick in his mouth, looking completely innocent. “What’d I do this time?”

Yuta ignored him, standing up and nervously fidgeting with his fingers, eyes bouncing between Maki and the floor.

“Anyway… to make it up to you, I was thinking… maybe… we could go out for lunch? My treat!”

Maki froze, still as a statue, her gaze cold and impassive. “Mh.”

Yuta bit his lip, agitated, scrambling to regain control. “It’s not a date, okay! Just lunch. With food. I swear!”

She raised an eyebrow, without moving a muscle. “Mh.”

Silence.

From the couch, Toge slowly lifted his gaze from his phone.

He looked at Yuta for a moment, then traced a cross in front of his chest, as if blessing him before the end.

Then he calmly lowered his eyes back to the screen.

Panda snorted a laugh. “Amen, brother.”

Yuta turned toward them, visibly sweating. “You guys are coming too, right? Just a lunch break. Group lunch. Totally normal.”

Maki let out a quiet huff. “Right. Totally normal lunch break, with surprise invitations and a nervous breakdown included.” 

She disappeared into her room again, leaving Yuta suspended between panic and hope.

“I need to dry my hair.”

Which was her way of saying: fine.

Yuta nodded, relieved.

Twenty minutes later, she came out dressed in jeans and a dark top, hair pulled into a high ponytail. 

Her demeanor was less rigid, though her gaze remained sharp.

Yuta tensed again, as if her presence alone was enough to reignite the tension.

“So… shall we?”

She muttered a “Yeah” while grabbing the jacket she had left on the chair.

Panda, already on his feet, was slipping on his shoes with determination. “This time, I pick the restaurant.”

“Sushi!” Toge chimed in with conviction.

Panda made a face. “What? I wanted ramen!”

But the boy was already dashing toward the door, jacket in hand. Fate was sealed.

Yuta glanced at Maki as she reached for her own jacket, ready to head out.

“Maki, I…”

She cut him off without turning, her tone firm. “If you say sorry one more time, I’ll forgive you.”

Yuta lit up instantly. “Really?”

“No.”

She strode past him decisively, but just before stepping out, she paused at the threshold and lifted her gaze slightly, without fully turning back.

“But paying for lunch is a step in the right direction.”

Yuta smiled, relief blooming into a warmth that spread up his chest.

⸻ ✧ ⸻

The restaurant was small and cozy, filled with the warm aroma of broth and fragrant spices. The air buzzed with soft chatter and the clinking of spoons and chopsticks, yet at the table by the window, a strange tension hung between them.

Yuta sat stiffly between Toge and Maki, shoulders drawn tight, unsure if he was sitting too close or too far from her. Every so often his gaze slipped toward her, only to dart away again like a guilty secret.

Maki sipped her tea with feigned nonchalance, though her plate was barely touched. Her eyes flickered toward Yuta now and then, only to quickly dodge away as if he were trouble waiting to happen.

Panda, meanwhile, was already on his second plate, chewing happily with a blissful grin.

“These gyoza should be illegal! They need a warning label or something.”

Toge gave a slow nod, his inscrutable expression saying, “Agreed.”

Yuta drew a shaky breath, trying to calm the knot of nerves tightening in his chest.

“So, um… did any of you see that new movie with the swords and flying monsters?”

Silence. Sharp, cutting silence.

Panda stared at him as if he’d just grown a second head, mouth still half-full.

“Yuta… that came out two months ago.”

He flushed and scratched the back of his neck. “Right. Uh… yeah.”

After a while, he tried again. “Hey, is it normal to dream about falling all the time?”

Maki arched a brow, lips curling in a sharp, dry smirk.

“Maybe it’s your brain telling you to stop asking dumb questions.”

He swallowed hard, fingers trembling slightly. “O-okay… What’s your favorite animal? I… I love penguins, they’re so funny—”

Maki folded her arms, icy. “Now I’m not sure if I want to stay here or run off and find a penguin.”

Panda snorted between bites. “What’s wrong with you? You’re crashing and burning, man.”

Yuta dropped his face into his hands with a groan. “I know. This was supposed to be an apology lunch, and it’s turning into an interrogation.”

Maki turned her gaze on him, eyes gleaming—sharp, but almost amused.

“It’s not an interrogation. Not yet.”

With a swift, decisive move, she snatched a bite from the shared plate with her chopsticks, leaving him staring.

“MAKI! That was the best one!” Panda howled in outrage.

Toge, impassive as ever, watched Yuta quietly unravel, then leaned toward Panda and whispered something in his ear.

Panda’s eyes went wide like he’d just heard a state secret.

“What?! No way. The food will get cold!” he hissed back.

Toge’s calm expression didn’t waver. With a firm grip, he grabbed Panda’s arm and tugged him away from the table.

In a last desperate act of pride, Panda snagged a few gyoza on his way out, clutching them like spoils of war.

“Uh… we just… need to hit the bathroom,” he blurted, clearly scrambling for a believable excuse.

Yuta blinked, baffled. “Both of you?”

Toge gave a calm thumbs-up, as if to say yes, this is necessary.

Panda flushed slightly, scratching his head with a sheepish grin.

“Yeah, um… together. You know, for safety. Toge’s terrified of spiders. Or maybe monsters under the sink. Can’t remember.”

And just like that, they disappeared down the hallway, leaving an oddly heavy silence in their wake.

The two of them were alone now.

Yuta cleared his throat, staring down at his untouched plate. His hands fidgeted with nervous little jerks, like he was searching for an escape from the weight of the silence pressing down on him.

“So… did you know penguins—”

“Talk about penguins one more time,” Maki cut in sharply, “and I can’t promise I’ll be responsible for my actions.”

His heart lurched. Heat rushed to his cheeks.

“Right. No penguins.”

Silence again, this time thicker, heavier, filled with words unsaid and glances that darted away too quickly.

Yuta’s voice was barely above a whisper when he tried again.

“I just… I’m still sorry. About earlier. In the bathroom. I didn’t mean to— I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable.”

Maki’s gaze slid toward him, sharp and searching, like she was trying to read straight through him.

“You look more uncomfortable than I do.”

The remark hit him like a pebble to glass—small, but enough to crack something inside.

He laughed weakly, rubbing the back of his neck with a crooked smile.

“Maybe it’s just that you always seem so sure of yourself. It’s hard to tell what you’re thinking. I… overthink everything. And then I say dumb stuff. Like now.”

The air thickened, heavy and still.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Stop apologizing,” Maki interrupted gently, but firmly—her tone calm, timeless.

Yuta froze under her direct gaze, feeling strangely exposed.

She raised her cup, sipped her tea slowly as if weighing every word, then set it down with quiet care.

“I’m not always sure of myself.”

The words hung in the air like something delicate and unexpected.

“…You hide it well,” Yuta murmured, soft but disarmingly sincere. “I get it, though. I pretend I’m fine even when I’m not.”

Something flickered in her eyes—surprise. She hadn’t expected him to say it out loud.

“And you think that helps?” she asked, a hint of challenge in her voice, though it had softened.

Yuta bit his lip, thinking.

“No. But… sometimes I think if I say it out loud—if I admit it—I’ll break. And… I don’t want to be a burden to anyone.”

A small, tense smile. “It doesn’t really work, though.”

A beat of silence.

Then Maki shook her head with a crooked grin she couldn’t quite hide.

“Well… you’re not the only one faking it sometimes.”

For the first time, Yuta simply went quiet—really present in the moment.

Maki turned to him, her smile soft now. Not sarcastic. Almost… gentle.

“You’re weirdly good at giving awkward compliments. Still talk too much, though.”

Yuta stared at her, stunned and a little dazed, like he was trying to hold on to something fragile and precious—her smile.

She had smiled. At him.

“Ah. Uh…” He ducked his head, heart pounding too fast to fake calm. “Thanks. For… not being mad anymore. And for the smile. I think.”

Maki didn’t reply, but the faint smile lingered on her lips like a quiet promise.

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy anymore—just calm. Strange, but strangely pleasant.

And then, chaos returned like a curtain flying open.

Panda burst back into the room like a tiny hurricane, eyes sparkling with triumph.

“We’re back! The danger has passed! No monsters under the sink!” he announced proudly.

Toge followed behind with measured steps, hands in his pockets, face calm but eyes glinting with the faintest amusement.

Maki sighed and crossed her arms, pretending to look annoyed.

“Just when things were starting to calm down,” she muttered, though a smile tugged at her lips.

Panda pointed dramatically at Toge.

“I risked my life for this guy! There were suspicious shadows on the ceiling. Could’ve been mold. Or worse.”

Yuta burst out laughing, relief breaking loose like a dam.

“Thanks for your sacrifice.”

Toge’s face stayed serious, though a spark of silent humor flickered in his eyes.

“No danger lasts forever,” he said simply, almost philosophically.

Maki rolled her eyes, though she seemed far more relaxed now.

“Since you’re back, let’s just eat,” she said, the edge gone from her voice.

Panda sat down with the excitement of a kid at a festival.

“Hope there’s at least one decent gyoza left!”

With a sly grin, Yuta picked up the last one with his chopsticks and slid it onto his plate.

“Oops,” he said, feigning innocence.

Panda gasped in mock betrayal. “Treachery!”

Before he could say more, Maki gave Yuta’s hand a quick, light tap with her chopsticks—a silent little gesture of encouragement.

He blinked at her, startled, while she looked away like nothing had happened—but there was a glimmer of amusement in her eyes.

That tiny gesture said more than words ever could: Good job. You’re holding your own.

⸻ ✧ ⸻

The days at home had finally settled into a somewhat calmer rhythm.

The bickering between Maki and Yuta hadn’t disappeared entirely—as always, there were still sharp comments and cutting glances—but it had become less frequent, less charged with the tension that had marked the early days.

Somehow, the two had begun to find a sort of understanding. Not many words were needed, or perhaps they had just become better at reading them in each other’s looks.

Even Panda and Toge, accustomed to observing the group’s unusual dynamic, exchanged surprised glances and amused smiles.

Maki, usually reserved and hard to approach, was finally letting a small crack appear—and with someone like Yuta… well, that was a surprise for everyone.

Chapter Text

⋆ Soft Corners ⋆

Maki leaned lightly against the shopping basket, checking her watch every now and then. Toge had stopped by the pharmacy to grab some throat spray, and she was taking the chance to breathe for a moment away from the chaos of the supermarket aisles.

“Hey, Maki-chan!”

She looked up and saw Takumi approaching, his usual smirk on his face.

“I told you not to call me that,” she said, with a strange calmness.

“Didn’t expect to run into you here,” he began, his tone gentle, as if it were perfectly natural to meet in the most random places. “I’ll take it as a sign of fate.”

Maki raised an eyebrow, a mixture of amusement and sarcasm crossing her face.

“If this is fate, I’d rather not imagine what luck looks like.”

Takumi didn’t seem to notice and glanced down at the shopping bags. “That’s quite a load… want me to help? I can walk you home, if you want.”

He stepped a little closer, but Maki nudged the bag slightly toward herself, keeping her distance.

“I can carry it myself. I think I already proved my strength to you the other day.”

He smiled, that confident, easygoing air that left little room for protest. “True. But if you gave me a second round, I’m sure I could do even better.”

“I’m not falling for that. For someone who’s trained in martial arts for years, you still have a long way to go.”

He looked at her, unfazed. “I see you remember that. Ah… maybe I made an impression after all!” he added with a half-smile, clearly convinced of the opposite.

Maki blushed slightly, averting her gaze, annoyed.

At that moment, Toge arrived, interrupting them.

Takumi smiled, extending his hand. “Hey there! Nice to meet you.”

Toge observed him, eyes slightly narrowed, as if trying to figure out what kind of creature he was.

Maki sighed. “Toge… this is Takumi,” she explained, gesturing to each of them, noting her roommate’s confused expression. “He always accompanies his brother to class.”

“And now I get to accompany him to see Maki-chan too!” Takumi added with a smirk, pointing at himself with his thumb.

Without thinking much, she stomped her heel decisively on his foot.

“OW!”

“Say it again and you won’t be able to walk anymore!”

“Alright, a-alright, I was just kidding!” he whimpered, raising both hands in surrender.

Toge stood silently, watching them like an entomologist observing two new species, not even blinking.

Maki noticed the gaze and whipped her head around.

“Anyway, let’s go.”

Takumi took a step forward, hurrying to call out to her before she walked away.

“J-just a moment! Still no chance for a date?”

Maki shot him a sidelong glance, then shrugged casually.

“Keep hoping.”

They walked away, but she could still feel Takumi’s gaze on her, accompanied by a faint blush on his cheeks. His way of flirting was strange: not intrusive, not arrogant… but not exactly someone who could ever work with her. She realized it immediately.

And yet, he kept trying, with a quiet, disarming stubbornness.

She sighed, letting the sound of her footsteps drown out her thoughts, while beside her, Toge kept sneaking glances, as if trying to read what was going through her mind.

⸻ ✧ ⸻

Fifteen minutes later, they were back inside. The door closed with a soft thud behind them, muffling the triumphant shouts and desperate “Nooo!”s coming from the living room. Panda and Yuta were locked in a game so intense it looked like the couch might flip any second.

“About time! You took forever!” Panda shouted, eyes glued to the screen as if they’d just climbed Mount Everest.

Maki let the grocery bags drop onto the kitchen table with a quiet sigh. Toge pulled the throat spray from his jacket pocket, spraying a quick mist.

“Thank Toge and his stupid spray,” she said, giving a faint, almost reluctant smile, and began unpacking the groceries.

Panda paused the game, raising an accusing eyebrow at his friend.

“I told you not to yell like that yesterday,” he reminded him, referring to the stadium match from the night before.

Toge shrugged calmly, opening the canister as Maki organized the packages on the shelves. Then he leaned slightly toward Panda and whispered something in his ear.

Panda froze for a second. Then his eyes went wide.

“Whaaaat?! Maki! You never told me you had a boyfriend?!” he exploded, jumping up dramatically.

She froze mid-step, a box of dumplings still in her hands, and turned to him, her face slightly flushed.

Yuta dropped the joystick and spun around, startled.

“W-what? When?!” he stammered, his voice cracking.

Panda shrugged, tilting his head between shock and disbelief.

“Even I’m surprised.”

Maki took a few steps forward, trying to regain her composure.

“What the hell are you talking about?! I don’t have any boyfri—” She stopped abruptly, her gaze falling on Toge, who remained perfectly still. Now she understood.

She squinted, exasperated.

“Can nobody in this house mind their own business?!”

Panda, of course, ignored her.

“Come on, don’t take it out on him! Tell me… who’s this Takumi?”

Yuta felt a knot tighten in his stomach, as if someone had pulled an invisible string.

Maki crossed her arms, trying to brush it off.

“There’s nothing to tell. He’s the idiot brother of one of my students.”

Meanwhile, Panda had already grabbed his phone and was scrolling through her social media like a detective.

“Hm… an idiot who comments on your posts a lot, though…” he murmured, suspiciously.

Maki shot him a glare.

“Stop sticking your nose in my business!”

“Oh, look at that!” Panda replied, unfazed, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Works at a hospital, good-looking, plays sports, sociable, always smiling… basically, your opposite!” He laughed, then turned to Yuta, his gaze teasing.

“My friend… you’ve got yourself a tough rival!”

“W-what?!” Yuta flinched, eyes wide.

“Moron!” Maki snapped, punching her roommate’s arm, flustered. She glanced at Yuta—he, caught off guard, quickly looked down, cheeks burning, nervously twirling the joystick.

“Someone like him won’t have any trouble finding a girlfriend,” she finally said, her tone firm as she returned her gaze to Panda. “He’s not for me.”

Panda squinted at her, then held the phone in front of her, showing some of Takumi’s posts with her likes.

“Funny… you never like my posts… but for a handsome stranger you just met, you do?”

“Maybe he’s her type,” Toge muttered.

Maki jumped slightly, her face tinged with red.

“Get a life, both of you! Instead of sticking your noses in mine!”

Still muttering to herself, she strode toward the kitchen, shoulders stiff, a faint blush still on her cheeks.

Yuta forced a small smile and lowered his gaze, making sure she didn’t notice him watching.

A quiet settled over the room, broken only by the paused game on the screen.

Panda collapsed onto the couch beside Yuta with a thud, letting out an exaggerated sigh. The springs creaked faintly under his weight.

“One day, you’re gonna not be able to get up at all,” Yuta remarked, raising an eyebrow with a small, knowing smile.

Panda chuckled softly, rubbing the arm where he’d taken a bump.

“Nah. It’s just our way of showing we care. She knows that.”

Toge, crouched by the coffee table with his legs crossed, nodded faintly while spraying his throat again. The room felt soft and quiet for a moment, filled only with the hum of the fridge and the distant ticking of the clock.

Yuta bit the inside of his cheek, hesitating, letting the controller slide idly between his fingers. Then, almost in a whisper, he broke the silence.

“Do you think… Maki could actually like someone like Takumi?”

Panda glanced at him, as if weighing whether to make a joke, then thought better of it. This wasn’t the time.

“Who knows,” he said thoughtfully, scratching the back of his head. “She doesn’t talk about that stuff much. Her relationships have always been… messy.”

Yuta lowered his gaze, letting the controller rest on his lap.

“She hinted at some… unusual dates,” he murmured. “Out of the ordinary.”

Panda and Toge exchanged a look and chuckled softly, like they knew exactly what he meant.

“Yeah. There was that guy who only gave her stuffed animals as gifts,” Panda began, counting on his fingers. “And the other who arranged… ‘romantic duels’ with fireworks.”

“The cursed poet,” Toge added.

“That one was my favorite! Weird as hell, cried at every sunset,” Panda’s eyes lit up.

Yuta glanced at him, unsure whether to laugh or worry.

Panda shrugged, stretching on the couch with a long yawn. “At least those were… fun, but others… Well…” he said, forcing a half-smile. Then his gaze softened, almost melancholic. “She’s never been lucky in love…”

Yuta stared at him, heart beating faster.

“Maki tends to… sabotage herself sometimes,” Panda added quietly.

Yuta stayed silent, eyes drifting past the coffee table.

Maki had had her share of relationships, but they all seemed to burn out quickly: rapid, turbulent, and destined to fizzle before becoming anything solid.

There was something in her about keeping people at a distance, as if a single wrong gesture or word could trigger those invisible barriers she raised so well. Safer to push people away than risk getting hurt again.

He’d noticed it from the first time they met: her sharp way of speaking, ready to defend herself from an attack that would never come. Things had changed since then. They didn’t always get along, but they had made progress—small, uncertain, yet real.

Yuta assumed some of it came from her past. She rarely spoke of it. Only hints: a complicated family, and the fact that she’d left. No stories, no photos, no letters.

If she hadn’t told him herself, Yuta wouldn’t have known she even had a sister—a bond still there, frayed and tense, like a thread on the verge of snapping.

Maybe that’s why she kept everyone at a distance.

He couldn’t help wondering if, one day, she’d let someone get close enough.

“I understand…” he murmured, almost inaudible.

“So,” Panda said, glancing toward the kitchen where Maki had disappeared, “I just hope… if she ever really ends up with someone, it’s a good person. Someone who truly makes her happy.”

Then he looked at Yuta and smiled faintly. “She deserves more than she thinks.”

Toge nodded in agreement.

Yuta stayed silent. Part of him knew Panda was right, and he felt grateful: it was comforting to realize that beneath the jokes and antics, Panda and Toge genuinely cared about Maki.

And yet…

The thought of her—with Takumi or anyone else—left a strange knot in his stomach.

Not anger, not really… but something twisting uncomfortably, one he couldn’t untangle.

He forced the thought away.

It made no sense. It wasn’t fair.

He and Maki were just friends.

And that was enough.

“Yes,” he said finally, forcing a smile as he bent down to retrieve the controller. “You’re right.”

Panda studied him for a moment, as if he’d seen something in Yuta’s eyes, then simply nodded and restarted the game.

⸻ ✧ ⸻

The house was quiet now.

From the living room came only the muffled sounds of Panda and Toge Inumaki finishing their game, punctuated by occasional stifled laughter.

Yuta rose from the couch and, without quite knowing why, found himself walking toward the kitchen.

Maki was there, sitting on the counter with her legs dangling, a can in her hand. She hadn’t noticed him, lost in her thoughts, eyes fixed on the floor.

“Hey,” Yuta said softly.

She looked up, surprised, and offered a faint, tired smile.

“Hey.”

He stepped closer and leaned on the counter beside her.

“What are you doing?”

Maki shrugged.

“Thinking about how to get back at Panda later.”

Yuta smiled.

“Need any suggestions?”

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye and this time couldn’t hide a small smirk.

“My first idea was to hide his controller… maybe in the fridge,” she said, taking a sip from her can. “But that’s a classic, and I’ve already done it.”

Yuta studied her with mock seriousness.

“You could leave little notes around the house that say, ‘I know what you did.’”

Maki raised an eyebrow.

“And what exactly would he have done?”

He shrugged.

“No one knows. That’s the fun part. If he actually did something, he’ll panic.”

She paused, a glimmer of amusement flashing in her eyes.

“Well, look at that—you’ve got a dark side too, Okkotsu.”

Yuta laughed, scratching the back of his neck.

“Anyway… don’t take it too seriously,” he murmured. “Panda can be… a little much. But he’s not mad at you.”

“I know,” Maki said, making a small face as she rolled the can between her fingers, unsure whether to tease him or thank him. Finally, she let out a sigh and shook her head.

“Believe me, if he really cared about annoying me, he’d know it.”

A faint smile tugged at her lips. Yuta returned it, and for a moment they stayed silent.

The soft kitchen light fell gently on Maki’s face, and for an instant Yuta felt that familiar twist in his stomach. He tried to shake it off, in vain.

A few seconds passed, then Yuta, slightly nervous, lowered his gaze to meet hers.

“Want to come join us? Toge can’t talk and is holding back from cursing his opponents.”

Maki shrugged.

“Maybe later… I need some quiet for now.”

Yuta nodded and decided to stay with her, which seemed to surprise her.

“Mind if I keep you company?” he asked quietly.

“No.”

Maki let out a soft breath, almost a sigh, and a small smile brushed her lips. Yuta watched her in silence, holding his breath as if the entire world could disappear, leaving only the two of them. Every gesture, every little movement captivated him: the way her hair fell across her face, the focused expression tinged with a hint of amusement that betrayed her calm, and those eyes… those eyes that spoke without words.

Yuta’s heart beat faster, and his cheeks burned unexpectedly. He found her incredibly, inevitably cute, and every little detail made him blush even more.

At that moment, Maki tilted her head slightly, her eyes watching him with curiosity. “What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing!” he stammered, caught off guard.

She studied him for a moment, suspicious, then let the thought go: this moment, this quiet company, was enough. No words, no grand gestures were needed. Yuta’s presence beside her, calm and close, was enough to make her feel that, for just an instant, everything else could wait.

It was a simple moment, but it was enough for both of them.
The soft kitchen light wrapped around them, and the feeling was clear: even without words, even without grand gestures, a quiet closeness had formed.
A little corner of peace that belonged only to them.

And while the game downstairs continued to make noise, they stayed there, silent but near, until fatigue inevitably pulled them back toward the rest of the world.
Everything felt… just right.

Chapter Text

⋆ One Drink to Forget… or Maybe Not [Part 1] ⋆

Maki drummed her nail against the rim of the empty paper cup. The pavement was still damp from the rain, and the crooked “OPENING 5PM” sign hung loosely on the bar’s door.

Gojo’s bar.

“You know what I think?” she huffed, crossing her arms. “That whole entrepreneur act was just a passing whim. Like—buy a bar because it sounds cool, then realize you actually have to work.”

Nobara, sitting next to her on the step, tucked a strand of hair behind her earrings. “Obviously. It’s Gojo. The man gets bored of himself every ten minutes.”

“Exactly. The only consistent thing in his life is his ego.”

“And his sunglasses,” Nobara added, rolling her eyes. Then, with a mischievous grin, “But I say he’s not just sleeping in. If he’s this late, he’s definitely been with Geto.”

Maki raised an eyebrow, amused. “With Geto? At this hour?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve never noticed. Whenever he disappears for over twelve hours and comes back with that look of ‘I did something illegal but it was beautiful’… it’s always Geto’s fault.”

Maki couldn’t help but smirk. She’d only seen Geto a couple of times: the exact opposite of Gojo—calm, elegant, with that university professor vibe who probably reads complicated novels even at the bar.

And yet, every time he showed up beside Gojo, he dragged him straight into his own brand of chaos. It was like they shared a secret language no one else could decode.

Once, she’d seen them enter a shop with a birdcage and walk out with a vintage film projector and a two-meter-tall tropical plant.

Another time, Gojo had returned to work with electric-blue painted nails, glitter in his hair, and a temporary fox tattoo on his neck, declaring it was “all Geto’s fault”—and apparently, they’d also adopted a goldfish named Aristotle (never seen again).

Then there’d been that infamous sighting of the two of them on a pink pedal boat in the middle of a lake at three in the morning, both dressed in full evening wear.

Gojo had never said out loud if there was something between them—maybe he enjoyed keeping that vague aura of “impossible to pin down”—but both Maki and Nobara had figured it out the moment they caught their first shared glance.

Maki shook her head, suppressing a laugh. “I doubt it. He’s probably just sleeping.”

“Wanna bet?” Nobara shot upright instantly, her eyes sparkling. “If I’m right, you’re coming to Friday’s party as my +1.”

“…,” Maki stared at her. “Nobara, no.”

“Oh, come on. It’s not like you have a social life anyway.”

“I do have a social life. I just keep it far away from useless parties,” Maki retorted, annoyed. “Why don’t you ask Itadori?”

Nobara gave her a quick, almost playful glance. “Yuji? He can’t, he already has plans.”

Maki raised an eyebrow. “With who? Megumi?”

“Jennifer Lawrence,” Nobara replied in a tone just shy of deadpan. “It’s the premiere of her new movie that night. You know how much he cares…”

Maki groaned. “Of course. Number-one fanboy of the century.”

Nobara shrugged, smirking. “So no Yuji. What do you say? Or are you scared to lose?”

Maki rolled her eyes skyward. “Ugh. Fine. But only because I know I’ll win.”

Right then, the bar door swung open. Satoru Gojo appeared wearing a glitter-covered jacket, sunglasses still perched on his nose, and a half-slurred grin. His hair was a mess, and he smelled faintly of disinfectant mixed with cotton candy.

“Heeey, girls…” he drawled, stumbling inside.

“Finally,” Nobara muttered, already looking smug.

Maki shook her head. “Don’t celebrate too soon. It’s Gojo—he could’ve just rolled in glitter before passing out, for all I know.”

As the man lazily fumbled with the keys, pausing every step with a yawn, Nobara sauntered closer, feigning casual curiosity.

“Tell me… isn’t that jacket a little too subtle for you?”

Gojo blinked, then smiled. “Ah, right. That’s because it’s Geto’s. I was with him.”

And with that, he vanished inside, slamming the door behind him.

Nobara turned to Maki, her grin brighter than an explosion.

“Eight o’clock sharp. Cute outfit,” she chimed. “And don’t forget to smile.”

Maki covered her face with one hand.

She was already regretting this.

⸻ ✧ ⸻

Maki stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of her blazer with meticulous precision. Her chosen outfit was simple but powerful: clean lines, neutral tones, perfect for looking flawless without seeming overdone.

Outside the door, Nobara’s impatient voice rang out.

“Maki! Don’t you dare dress down on purpose! My coworkers will be there tonight! We have to look stunning!”

Maki bit her tongue to avoid a sharp retort. With a final adjustment to her collar, she slipped on her shoes and ignored the continued nagging.

In the hallway, Nobara was already waiting, arms crossed. Her own outfit was sharp and professional: tailored black blazer, straight trousers, mid heels, sleek hair, and subtle makeup. She looked like an ambitious prosecutor heading to a nightclub, every edge perfectly intact.

From the kitchen came the smell of dinner: Yuta was at the stove, focused on a sizzling pan, while Toge carefully arranged plants by the window. Panda, meanwhile, was holed up in his room, fingers tapping away at his keyboard.

“Hey, Yuta,” Nobara said, leaning casually against the doorframe with a sly grin. “Seems like you’ve been cooking for everyone a lot lately.”

The boy turned quickly, hands still greasy from oil, cheeks flushing. “Uh… I-I kind of like it…”

“They’re taking advantage of you,” she cut in, shaking her head. “But at least the kitchen’s no longer a warzone.”

Yuta scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed, trying to mask it with an awkward smile. “Well… thanks, I guess…”

After a pause, he asked, feigning nonchalance, “So… where are you guys going tonight?”

Nobara shrugged, lips curling into a half-sarcastic smile. “Just some stupid party. I didn’t even want to go, but if I don’t, I’ll be the only one from my office staying home. So…” she sighed, then smirked. “I dragged Maki along as my partner in misery.”

Yuta nodded slowly, while Toge glanced up from his plants with a knowing smirk.

The bedroom door opened.

Maki stepped into the hallway.

Impeccably dressed, elegant yet commanding, she wore a sleek black midi dress, stiletto heels, her hair loose around her shoulders, and understated but polished makeup. Every detail was deliberate—nothing forced.

Her expression, however, was the same as always: unreadable.

“I feel ridiculous.”

Yuta froze mid-spatula.

Even Toge widened his eyes in disbelief.

Nobara, on the other hand, looked smug, like a director watching her favorite scene unfold.

“What are you talking about? You look amazing!” she said proudly. “Maybe even too amazing… I might get outshined.”

“Not my problem,” Maki shot back dryly, making Nobara laugh out loud.

Yuta was still frozen, unable to look away—but also too nervous to really look.

Just then, Panda poked his head into the kitchen, drawn by the smell of food. The moment he saw her, he stopped cold, squinting.

“And who the hell are you?!”

“Idiot, it’s me!” Maki snapped.

Panda’s jaw dropped. “M-Maki?! But… but then—you can dress like a girl sometimes?!”

Maki’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You’re a monkey-faced moron, in case you forgot.”

“Whoa, easy!” he laughed, holding his hands up. “It was a compliment!”

“Only an idiot like you could think that’s a compliment!”

Within seconds, the two were bickering again in low voices, sighs and eye-rolls flying. Nobara, meanwhile, drifted casually toward Yuta.

She noticed his flushed cheeks, the way he avoided Maki’s gaze at all costs.

“Hey,” she said with a sly little smile, deliberately raising her voice, “don’t you think Maki looks really pretty tonight?”

Both of them froze.

Maki stared at Yuta.

Yuta stared at Maki.

And both of them immediately looked away, as if burned.

Yuta scratched his cheek nervously. “Uh… well…”

Nobara leaned closer, waiting.

“Y-yeah, of course,” he stammered.

Panda grinned. “You really outdid yourself this time! And it’s rare seeing you with your hair down.”

Maki, caught off guard, instinctively touched her hair as if to check.

Nobara’s eyes flicked back to Yuta, her expression screaming say something before they start arguing again.

“Well… yeah, it’s true,” he admitted, blushing furiously. “I like it like that.”

The silence thickened. Panda was choking back laughter. Nobara’s eyes sparkled.

Maki stood frozen, staring.

“So you don’t like it tied up?” she asked, eyebrow raised.

Yuta felt himself step right into a trap and scrambled to fix it. “N-no! I mean yes! I mean—it doesn’t matter how you wear it. Or what you wear. You’re… you’re always pretty. That’s all.”

The words tumbled out before he could stop them. Too late, he realized what he’d just said. His face went white. He coughed awkwardly, desperate for an escape.

“Uh—I think… the rice is burning!”

Maki stayed where she was, uncharacteristically silent, a faint blush creeping across her cheeks, unable to come up with a retort.

Nobara, meanwhile, allowed herself a satisfied little grin, clearly pleased with the chaos she had unleashed.

⸻ ✧ ⸻

When the others left, the kitchen fell into a quiet filled only by the hiss of steam rising from the pot. Yuta moved with careful precision, almost mechanically, as if keeping to that calm rhythm could make him feel safe.

“Okay…” he murmured, glancing at the rice. “Five minutes and it should be done. I can add a bit of—”

He stopped mid-sentence, turning to find Panda and Toge staring at him. Panda wore that mischievous, trouble-predicting smirk, while Toge’s expression was too neutral to be entirely neutral.

Yuta felt a knot tighten in his throat. He tried to ignore them and returned to the stove.

“Well… I’m adding the soy sauce anyway.”

“Forget that,” Panda cut in.

“Huh?! You don’t like the rice?”

Panda exhaled and rubbed his face. “I’m not talking about the rice, Yuta. I’m talking about Maki.”

The ladle shook in his hand. The steam suddenly felt suffocating.

“I-it’s nothing. I just…”

“You made it clear you like her.”

“W-what?! No!” Yuta exploded, louder than he intended. “That’s not true!”

Neither of them flinched. The silence that followed weighed on him like a boulder, and he ended up shrugging, eyes downcast.

“W-well… I like her… but…” he admitted, almost biting his tongue.

A few quiet chuckles reached his ears. Panic shot through him, and he flailed his arms helplessly. “I-it’s not what it looks like, I swear!”

The two exchanged a glance that spoke volumes. “To us, it looks exactly like that.”

“B-but… but that would be absurd! I… I haven’t even… I mean… I don’t know! I’ve never—”

Panda draped a reassuring arm over his shoulders, smiling. “Relax, buddy. We’ve known for a while. And anyway… you handled yourself well. Usually, Maki goes on the offensive much sooner.”

He winked. “With you, though…”

“You’ve got a chance,” Toge added.

“You really think so?” Yuta asked quietly, almost to himself.

“Of course,” Panda said, smiling. “And ever since you’ve been around, she’s been… softer. Gentler.”

Yuta froze. Gentler? He thought of all the jabs, the sharp words, the little outbursts. She hadn’t seemed any different.

And yet… maybe that was the point. Maybe that was exactly what drew him to her.

He shook his head. “I don’t think… I don’t think she could like me that way.”

“Stop it. She has a thing for you, it’s obvious.”

“Having a thing for someone doesn’t mean anything,” Yuta muttered, eyes dropping to the ring he clenched in his hand like an anchor. “I don’t… I have nothing to offer. Not now. Maki deserves someone confident, outgoing, with a steady future…”

Panda stared at him, incredulous. “That’s just an excuse.”

Yuta didn’t answer. Steam blurred his face, or maybe it was just the burning in his eyes.

Toge broke the silence. “Is it about Rika?” he asked softly.

Yuta flinched, as if someone had punched him in the chest. He froze, lips parted, words stuck somewhere in his throat.

He forced a fragile smile and returned to stirring the rice, movements stiff and mechanical. The steam curled around him, hiding the shadow that had settled across his face.

⸻ ✧ ⸻

The neon lights of the bar flickered against the red brick walls, blending with the reflections from the glasses on the counter. The air was warm, scented with fruity cocktails, and lounge music slipped through the laughter weaving among the crowd. Tokyo at night had that chaotic charm: elegant people coming and going, street smells mixing with bar scents, a sense of possibility lingering everywhere.

Nobara opened the door with confident ease, scanning the room. Maki followed with calm, elegant steps, her posture rigid yet her movements fluid. She didn’t smile, yet her outfit drew more attention than she seemed to want.

“I warn you,” Nobara said, stepping aside to let her pass toward the bar. “My coworkers can be real octopuses.”

“Not surprising,” Maki muttered, eyes alert as they swept the room.

The first coworker immediately tried to approach, his smile a little too friendly.

“Hey, Kugisaki. Why don’t you introduce me to your friend?”

“She’d eat you alive,” Nobara dismissed him with a wave, gesturing for Maki to follow. Maki glided through the crowd without a word.

Soon after, another group of colleagues, slightly bolder, approached with drinks in hand.

“Are you a spell? Because I just can’t look away.”

“Compliments… you manage to be pathetic and ridiculous at the same time,” Maki replied, her icy gaze enough to make anyone back off.

When a third tried the usual pick-up line, “You’re so beautiful you could light up the whole bar!” Maki raised an eyebrow.

“Thanks, but I prefer to light up rooms only when necessary.”

A fourth chuckled, “Did you hurt yourself falling from the sky?”

“No,” Maki said sharply, “but you seem to have landed straight in ridiculousness.”

Nobara, amused, chuckled behind her.

“You’re killing it,” she whispered.

Maki didn’t respond. She focused on keeping anyone who dared get too close at bay.

“What kind of workplace do you even have?” she asked, curious.

“A mostly male one,” Nobara shrugged. “But for people like us, it’s easy to put them in their place.”

The music shifted. The party flowed between conversations and boisterous laughter. At one point, Nobara dragged her toward the center of the room, where the music was louder and the lights reflected blue and purple tones off the glasses.

“See?” she said, tilting her head toward Maki. “First hurdle’s done, it’s not bad. And we get free drinks.”

Maki gave a faint smile.

“You could’ve told me earlier.”

They reached the bar, ordering quickly, taking advantage of the opportunity. The evening slipped by in small moments of amusement. Maki observed people critically, shaking her head at clumsy attempts, sipping her drink with composure, while Nobara laughed quietly at every comical scene. For once, Maki almost seemed to be enjoying herself, even if she wouldn’t admit it.

Some time later, Nobara wandered off to talk to a coworker. Maki settled into an armchair when her phone vibrated.

On the screen appeared a message:

[Takumi] [GIF of a cat dressed as a samurai clumsily falling off a table]

Maki raised an eyebrow, barely holding back a half-smile.

[Maki] “…Okay, I have to admit this is ridiculously… cute.”

[Takumi]  “See? I’m a man of culture and subtle comedy.”

[Maki]  “Subtle? If this is your idea of subtle, poor world.”

[Takumi] “Hey, at least I made you smile!”

Maki sighed, typing quickly:

[Maki] “Consider it a small miracle of the evening.”

At that moment, Nobara returned, throwing her a curious glance.

“Is that Yuta?”

Maki looked up, slightly surprised.

“No. Why would it be?”

Nobara shrugged.

“You were smiling.”

Maki glared at her, irritated.

“Still with this? I don’t like Yuta.”

Nobara smiled mischievously.

“Are you sure? Because… the way you reacted to his compliment today…”

“I said no.”

They remained silent for a moment. Maki tapped her fingers on her phone, nervous. She watched Nobara casually scan the crowd.

“Just tell me one thing…”

Maki turned to glare at her.

“Have you never thought about it even once?” she asked, her voice calm but insinuating.

“What do you mean?”

“You know.”

Nobara took a quick sip of her cocktail, leaving Maki to ponder.

Had she really thought about it? Could she be hinting at… no.

She paused, a faint blush creeping across her cheeks.

“What on earth must Nobara have been thinking…” she murmured.

Yuta was… Yuta. Fresh out of a six-year-long relationship.

A knot tightened in her stomach. Her heart started beating faster for no apparent reason. She didn’t want complications. Not now. Not like this.

“Everything she felt for him… had to be just a strange, inexplicable attraction, she told herself. Just a fleeting spark, like it had always been with her past relationships. She couldn’t risk ruining the bond they had built—those shared jokes, the teasing, the laughter. That complicity was too precious to throw away over a fleeting infatuation.

Even if they got together, sooner or later they’d break up. It's happens everytime.

And she’d lose that delicate connection, the fine thread keeping her close to him.

She ran a hand through her hair, trying to brush away the thought, but the knot in her stomach didn’t loosen.

Her breath grew shorter. For the first time, Maki realized just how hard it was to ignore what she truly felt.

Her phone vibrated again, cutting through the background hum of the music. The same name: Takumi.

Maki felt Nobara’s curious gaze on her and frowned, pressing her lips together.

“I told you it’s not Yuta!” she snapped, the blush spreading across her cheeks like a sudden lightning strike.

“Alright, alright!” Nobara replied, raising her hands as if surrendering to an invisible weapon. “You get really touchy when it comes to him.”

Then, with the casual confidence of someone who knows exactly what they’re doing, she leaned just enough to glimpse Maki’s screen.

“So… tell me,” she asked innocently, a light smile on her lips, “who’s this Takumi? Why do you never tell me about your crushes?”

Maki gripped her glass, pretending not to care.

“C-crush? He’s just someone who texts me.”

Nobara raised an eyebrow, her eye glittering with amusement.

“And you reply.”

“So?” Maki tried to keep her voice steady, even though her chest was beating faster than usual.

“Most people would ignore him. He doesn’t.”

Maki huffed, rolling her eyes at the ceiling while rotating her glass slightly.

“He’s… nice, in a way. When he wants to be.”

Nobara studied her silently, eyes sharp as a radar. Then she shook her head slightly.

“Please tell me you won’t do it.”

“Do what?”

“This.” She pointed at the phone decisively. "A new crush to forget the old one? Oldest trick in the book, and just as useless."

Maki felt a sting. She turned her face sharply, clenching her jaw.

“What are you even talking about?!”

“I know you, Maki.” Nobara’s voice was firm, calm, almost tender in its blunt honesty. “If you don’t want to go out with Yuta for whatever reason, that’s fine. But someone else isn’t going to make you forget him.”

A shiver of irritation ran down her spine. She hated how easily Nobara could read her like an open book, how effortlessly she exposed every hidden intention.

Without replying, Maki grabbed her cocktail and downed it in one gulp, feeling the bubbles slide down her throat.

“Hey! That was mine!” Nobara protested, eyes wide, a mixture of incredulity and amusement on her face.

Maki made a face and shrugged.

“Too fizzy.”

“Fizzy or not, that doesn’t mean you can steal it like nothing!” Nobara laughed, shaking her head and tilting it slightly.

“Well, I’ll get you another. And while I’m at it, one for me too.”

“Wait!” she tried to stop her. “Haven’t you already had a bit too much?”

Maki stared impassively, the glass trembling slightly in her hands.

“You know I can handle my alcohol.”

“Not when it’s free.”

Nobara pursed her lips in a small exasperated puff.

“Fine, Mom. Are you going to babysit me all night or do you want to loosen up a bit?”

Nobara hesitated, then sighed, her voice softer than before.

“Alright…”

Maki turned, but her friend’s voice stopped her again.

“At least let me keep the phone.”

She froze, hand still gripping the glass.

“Excuse me?”

“When you drink too much, you end up doing stupid things. Remember that time you called your sister?”

Maki thought for a moment. One drunken night, she had ended up calling Mai, confiding secrets she’d never tell anyone else. Her slurred voice, the intermittent laughter, had been recorded by Mai, who never missed a chance to tease her since.

“Or when you let it slip that Gojo has nice eyes,” Nobara continued, “she still teases you about it.”

Maki huffed.

“That was years ago. I can control myself now.”

Nobara didn’t look entirely convinced.

“Better let me…”

“Kugisaki, finally!” A coworker had placed a hand on her shoulder, making her turn. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Are you having fun?”

Nobara forced a polite smile and nodded.

“Hamada, of course.”

The conversation lasted just long enough for Maki to slip away. She walked calmly toward the bar, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. She ordered a Shiso Smash, eyes fixed on the bartender as he moved with precise, almost theatrical gestures while mixing the ingredients. The glass sparkled under the soft lights, the bubbles hissing softly, almost hypnotic.

Maki inhaled slowly, trying to regain some sense of control. Nobara might not be entirely wrong.

But I’d never do that, she thought.

She was better than that; she couldn’t let herself be swept away by a guy. Not him.

She shook her head, downed the glass in one go.

Shit.

The cold, sharp taste only reminded her how easily he could shake her. She needed to get over it. Fast.

She ordered another drink. And another. Letting the gentle burn of alcohol and the citrusy scent of the cocktails carry her a little.

After all, it was free, and the night was still young.

Her phone vibrated on the bar.

Maki sighed, picked it up, squinting at the screen.

[Takumi] Today I nearly died three times: a patient tried to escape, the hospital coffee, and Shinjuku traffic. Guess which one almost killed me?

A faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at her lips. She hadn’t expected messaging him to be fun—but… here she was.

Maybe it was just the alcohol.

She leaned back, staring at her drink.

Maybe, in another life, or a simpler night, she could even go out with Takumi.

She shook her head. No. Just the cocktail talking.

And yet… Takumi wasn’t bad. Charming, sociable, even a little witty. Easy to laugh with. Easy to forget, just for a little while.

But he wasn’t Yuta.

And that thought hit her hard. Why did it always come back to him?

She inhaled sharply, frustrated. Maybe if she genuinely liked someone else, things would be easier. Maybe Yuta could fade into a memory she could laugh about.

Her mind flicked back to Takumi. Maybe… yeah, maybe he could be a distraction.

Nothing serious. Just meeting up. Simple. Friends.

Yes. Friends.

With a sigh, she typed a quick message, added the bar location. Finger hovered, hesitated, then sent it.

Done.

Maybe he’d come. Maybe not. Maybe he wouldn’t even see it. But she had decided.

She lifted the glass, the cold, citrusy liquid sliding down her throat.

And as she swallowed, she realized she hated herself a little.

Not for texting Takumi. But because… deep down, she was giving Nobara a tiny bit of satisfaction.

Some time passed. Nobara was caught up in a particularly intense conversation, occasionally throwing Maki glances that seemed to say, sorry, but I can’t help it.

Maki, in all honesty, found it a little amusing to watch her like that—her face animated with a mix of determination and theatricality, her hands gesturing in time with her words. Maybe it was also the alcohol, which had already warmed her up a bit, making her more indulgent toward other people’s antics.

The soft lighting of the bar, shades of blue and purple, illuminated the dance floor and tables, reflecting off glasses and crystal chandeliers. Lounge music drifted through conversations, enveloping the space in a warm background that seemed to freeze time for those who observed without participating. Maki felt strangely calm, almost detached from the chaos around her.

As she was about to check the time on her phone, a voice distracted her. In the corner of the bar, not far from her, a girl with long brown hair draped over one shoulder stood uncertainly, as if life had placed her in an unexpected scene. She wore a simple yet elegant ivory dress, which highlighted her delicacy without being flashy. She seemed completely out of place, moving cautiously and measuredly.

A boy approached her with two drinks in hand, wearing a smile that was too wide, confidence overblown, typical of someone who had never heard the word “no.”

“Come on, just one drink. I promise I don’t bite.”

The girl gave a polite smile, but her eyes betrayed tension.

“Oh… no, thank you. I’m waiting—”

“Come on, just five minutes—”

Maki exhaled softly and, without hurry, stepped closer. Her stride was calm and measured, like a shadow slipping into a room unnoticed. She positioned herself next to the girl and gave the guy a sharp look.

“Hey, there you are. I’ve been looking for you for an hour,” she said to the girl, her tone curt but kind, a simple statement of fact. Then she turned her gaze to the guy. “She’s busy. Trust me, you don’t want to be the one wasting my friend’s time.”

The boy hesitated, but Maki’s firm, vaguely threatening stare convinced him to back off, retreating without a word.

The girl followed him with her eyes, then turned to Maki, smiling with gratitude and a hint of embarrassment.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” Maki relaxed slightly. “He seemed like one of those who don’t understand ‘no’ even if you throw it in his face.”

The girl let out a small sigh, as if she could finally breathe.

“I was hoping to go unnoticed… but apparently, I’m not very good at that.”

A few seconds passed. Then she looked at Maki, a slight smile on her lips.

“You don’t have to stay here, really. My friends are dancing in the other wing of the bar; I’m not completely alone.”

Maki shrugged. “It’s fine. Besides, I still have a drink to finish.” She raised her glass in a measured gesture. “I was thinking of leaving soon anyway.”

“Oh…” The girl lowered her gaze, clutching her purse. “Actually… I’m not really cut out for these parties either.” She admitted with a half-smile. “I came thinking I’d have fun, but this crowd isn’t really for me.”

Maki nodded slightly, letting her nearly-empty glass clink.

“I’m just trying not to think about it too much. Works… more or less.”

At that moment, her phone, resting on the bar, vibrated. She rolled her eyes. The more she tried to ignore her stupid love life, the more she realized she was getting herself into an equally ridiculous triangle.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. Maybe that earlier call wasn’t from Takumi. Maybe he hadn’t even read her message and was probably out partying with a dozen friends.

Or maybe it was Panda… or Mai.

Yeah, Mai. If she knew how much she was letting herself go over a guy, she’d tease her forever.

“Trouble in love?"

Maki turned. The girl was looking at her with a slight, calm, curious smile.

She lowered her gaze to the phone and shrugged. “Just annoyances.”

“Hm.” The girl tilted her head, as if not entirely convinced. “I could tell… from your eyes.”

Maki stared, surprised by the certainty in her voice.

“That look…” the girl continued, a half-bitter smile on her lips. “I had it too, once. When I tried to pretend it was nothing.”

Maki pressed her lips together. She didn’t know why, but those words had gotten under her skin more than she wanted to admit. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the fact that this girl was a stranger who wouldn’t judge her. Or maybe it was just that keeping everything bottled up was starting to weigh too much.

She raised a hand to get the bartender’s attention and ordered another drink, letting out a sigh as she ran her fingers through her hair.

“You know what? This is madness. I’m… I’m losing it. Because I think I like someone.”

The glass arrived, and Maki gripped it too tightly, as if trying to crush it.

"A friend. An idiot who doesn’t get it. And me? Even more of an idiot, because I keep thinking about it over and over."

She took a long sip, then slammed the glass onto the bar with a sharp thud.

"It wasn’t supposed to happen. Not with him. And yet here I am, getting played by my own thoughts."

She ran a nervous hand through her hair, sighing, and lowered her gaze to the glass.

"I’m so pathetic I ended up texting someone else just to avoid thinking about him. As if spending a few hours with someone could make me stop… making me think about certain things." said “And the worst part? Nobara figured it out immediately. She knows… better than I do, even. And I hate it. I hate that she’s right.”

She shook her head, pressing her lips together.

"Ridiculous."

She rested her head on her hand. "I need a punch in the face to get myself back on track."

The girl watched her carefully, saying nothing during the entire outburst.

Maki shot her a glance that made her flinch. “I-I can’t… hit you!”

She smiled faintly. “Better this way. I think I’m drunk enough that I might defend myself without meaning to.”

The girl swallowed but didn’t flinch. Calmly, in a firm, steady voice, she spoke.

“You know… running away from your feelings is more common than it seems. I’ve been there too. For so long, I avoided dealing with my partner, hoping things would just sort themselves out. I thought ignoring what I felt could save our relationship.”

She paused, giving Maki time to absorb the words.

“But it doesn’t work like that. In the end, he and I had to bring everything out into the open. Because emotions can’t be ignored. You can try, resist, pretend… but eventually, they come out, stronger than before.”

She leaned slightly, a half-smile of understanding on her lips.

“I’m not saying it’s easy, or that it’s not scary. But if you care about someone, if you really care… facing what you feel is the only way to avoid regrets later.”

Maki listened without changing expression, hands still around her glass, eyes fixed on the bar. After a moment, she spoke suddenly.

“And you two… in the end, did you work things out?”

The girl sighed, shaking her head. “No. We had to break up. But… a part of me, I don’t know, still hopes that somehow it can be fixed. Maybe with time. In the future.”

Maki studied her carefully, then exhaled and took another sip from her glass.

“If that guy let you go that easily… he’s just a coward.”

The girl smiled, full of gratitude. No irony, just recognition.

“Anyway, we haven’t even introduced ourselves yet, seems ridiculous.”

Maki raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, but I guess that’s normal in places like this.”

“My name’s Rika Orimoto, by the way,” she said, with a small, shy smile.

“Maki,” she replied simply, nodding slightly.

She went to take the last sip, but froze.

Rika. Rika. RIKA.

Maki studied her closely. That name, those features, that smile… they were familiar. She lowered her gaze and noticed a keychain hanging from Rika’s purse, with the logo of the Tokyo Archaeological Museum. She froze, her heart skipping a beat.

“You work at the museum?”

Rika blinked, surprised, then smiled. “Correct. How did you guess?”

Maki pointed to the keychain. Rika laughed softly. “Ah, yes… I love these little gadgets. You know, once…”

The girl’s words flowed through Maki’s mind without finding a hold, like water slipping through fingers. She wished it were a hallucination, less cruel than this. But no. Every detail was real: the light smile, the relaxed posture, the kind eyes that seemed to illuminate the room.

She was Rika Orimoto. The Yuta's ex-girlfriend.

Her heart raced, her breath short, her stomach twisted, and her hands—moments ago steady on the bar—suddenly felt heavy and clumsy.

She just wanted to disappear. Right now.

She jumped up, the chair screeching on the floor, drawing a few curious glances, but Maki didn’t care. The world had shrunk to that instant, that unexpected encounter, and the whirlwind of emotions crashing over her without warning.

“What’s wrong? Do you need to go?” Rika asked, surprised.

“Y-yeah… I…” Maki ran a hand through her hair, trying to hide the tremor in her voice. “I don’t feel well… I think I drank too much.”

Just then, a boy reached Rika.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder, smiling. “Mitsuri said you were at the bar.”

“No problem,” she replied naturally, gesturing at Maki. “This girl kept me company.”

Maki bit the inside of her cheek. Rika was kind.

Damn kind.

Maybe even more than Yuta.

“If you want, I have something for a headache,” Rika offered, already rifling through her bag.

“No, thanks.” Maki raised her hand to stop her, starting to step back. “I have to go.”

“... Okay. See you around.” Rika gave her a small wave.

Maki turned and hurried away, biting her lip.

She had just met Rika. Talked to her. And, absurdly enough, she had even found her kind of likable.

And yet… images of Yuta crept back into her mind: those stupidly big, sweet eyes, that slightly clumsy smile that always made her heart skip, the way he spoke—kind, direct, like he could read her without even trying.

Why did she feel so unsettled? Maybe it was because, in the back of her mind, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Not clearly, not logically.

The guilt from the alcohol still burning through her veins, the confusion between what she felt and what she knew was right… it all tangled together.

Nobara had been right: when she drank too much, she only caused trouble.

And maybe tonight, she was making one of the worst mistakes yet.

Chapter Text

⋆ One Drink to Forget… or Maybe Not [Part 2] ⋆

The phone rang suddenly, slicing through the hum of music and clinking glasses. Neon lights flickered over the exposed brick walls, casting restless reflections across the crowd and the polished floor. Maki immediately recognized the caller but answered almost absentmindedly, her voice still husky from the alcohol.

“Hello?”

“It’s me, Maki.” Yuta’s voice came through clear, tinged with concern. “You’re still inside, right?”

Her heart skipped. The warmth of the bar suddenly felt suffocating, the lounge music too loud, every laugh echoing painfully in her ears.

“W-what… how…?” she stammered. “Why are you here?!”

A pause on the line, deliberate, as if Yuta were measuring his words. Then:

“You texted me first. You told me to come right away.”

Maki’s hands trembled as she scrolled the phone. Takumi’s messages had stopped after her last reply. She blinked, stunned. She had meant to text him… but it had gone to Yuta instead. The last person she wanted to see right now.

On the other end, Yuta seemed to sense her tension, the subtle worry in her voice.

“I got in. I’m on my way.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but the call ended before she could speak. A shiver of panic ran down her spine. She tried to send a message, hoping he’d see it, but the phone remained silent. Perhaps the bar’s noise had drowned out the alert.

She sighed. Incredible how she was digging her own hole tonight.

Turning toward the exit, she tried to walk with purpose, but Yuta appeared at the doorway.
“There you are.” His smile was calm, reassuring—the kind that always managed to throw her off balance.

Maki’s eyes lingered on him: a casual jacket, jeans, a lightly wrinkled t-shirt… like he had stepped straight out of home. For a moment, she wondered if he had come out of concern, but she pushed the thought away. Not the time.

“You didn’t need to come in. I was about to leave.”

“Something happened?” His voice was taut.

She raised an eyebrow, trying to appear indifferent. “No.”

“Oh. Then why did you text me?”

Her cheeks flamed. “I… I m-messed up.”

A shadow of disappointment flickered across Yuta’s face. Maki felt it deep in her chest, a tight knot of guilt and panic.

“I should go… my head’s killing me.”

She gestured for him to move, but he stopped.

“Wait… what about Kugisaki?”

Maki scanned the crowd for her friend, but she was lost in the throng.

“Maybe we should call her,” Yuta said, calm but insistent.

“Nonsense,” she muttered. “She was here a minute ago—”

A sudden nudge made her stumble. Yuta’s hand caught her arm, warm and steady.

“Careful,” he said softly, smiling. “Lucky I was close.”

Normally, she would have snapped a sharp retort: “Don’t cling to me.”

But now, all she could do was look at him, feel the nearness, the warmth of his hand, the familiar scent drifting toward her.

They were close… closer than ever before.

And in that moment, an intrusive, impossible thought took hold: how badly she wanted to kiss him.

Her heart raced, her hands brushed his unintentionally, sending an electric thrill between them.

Yuta’s eyes met hers, serious now, searching. Neither of them wanted to pull away.

Then he let a hand drift over her cheek, slow, tentative, like he wanted to make sure she was really okay.

“You sure you’re alright? You seem… off.”

Maki jumped back, almost violently, but inside, she still felt the warmth of his touch.

“I-I’m fine!”

She leaned against the wall, trying to steady herself. Her head spun slightly—a reminder of the drinks she’d had.

The air was thick with mixed scents: sweet cocktails, tobacco, a faint whiff of curry from the kitchen. The music pulsed like a heartbeat, lights flickering in blue and violet across shiny surfaces, turning the bar into a moving kaleidoscope. Every step felt dreamlike, unsteady, yet vivid.

“What’s wrong?” Yuta’s voice trembled, betraying worry.

“Nothing… just… give me a moment,” she sighed.

“I can look for Nobara if you want.”

She shook her head. Yuta had already turned to scan the room. As if teasing her, her eyes caught Rika’s back. Maki couldn’t see Yuta’s expression, but it was clear he noticed, just as she had noticed him.

Rika detached herself from her group, approaching carefully, a shy smile on her lips.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Yuta’s voice was uncertain, awkward.

Maki held her breath, bracing for chaos. Yuta fiddled nervously with his jacket. Running into an ex in a crowded Friday night bar… it was almost absurd.

“I didn’t expect you here.” He scratched his head. “H-how are you?”

“I-I’m… fine…” Rika replied, her smile slightly embarrassed.

Maki stayed silent. Too foggy to speak. Too drained to intervene.

“I’m here… with a couple of friends. You remember Kei…”

Yuta nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

“Want to join us?” She asked, timidly. “They’d be happy to see you… we could chat a little.”

But he shook his head. “I’d like to, but I need to get my friend home.”

Rika lowered her gaze, blushing. “…Sure. I understand.”

Finally, she seemed to notice Maki. They met eyes, silent, as if the earlier encounter hadn’t happened.

Maki didn’t understand why Rika said nothing. She didn’t care. Not now.

Yuta gave a small, nervous smile, scratching the back of his neck. “Y-you… you look good… I mean…”

“You too… your hair looks nice.”

He hesitated, then looked at his hands. “I hope… you don’t… think it’s weird. Seeing each other here.”

She lifted her gaze, meeting his briefly, a faint smile curving her lips. “I don’t. Just… a surprise. You never come to places like this.”

“Yeah. Neither do you.”

Maki noticed the tension, the small spike of jealousy.

Rika stepped back, pretending to fix her hair. “Well… see you another time. Somewhere quieter.”

Yuta nodded, unsure, like he wanted to say more. “Yes… that would… be nice.”

Rika glanced at Maki one last time, then returned to her group. Yuta stood still, hands in pockets, breathing slowly. Maki noticed the tremor in him, the rapid heartbeat.

“Shall we go?” she asked, breaking the silence.

He shrugged, regaining composure. “But… Kugi…”

“I’ll call her once we’re out.”

“Alright.”

They finally stepped out of the bar’s chaos.

The music was distant now, muffled. Maki could finally hear her own thoughts. Neon lights reflected on wet puddles, flickering, blurring reality, yet offering an unexpected calm.

“Do you want me to call Nobara?” Yuta asked.

“Wait.” Maki dialed quickly. Nobara answered immediately, voice loud and amused.

“Where have you been?! The assistant prosecutor is so drunk he’s hitting on a coat for five minutes. You have to see this.”

Maki sighed. “I’ll pass… I’m outside. Not… feeling great.”

Nobara laughed. “Told you so.”

“Don’t start.”

“Want me to walk you home?”

“No, stay there.” She hesitated. “Yuta’s here and…”

“... Yuta?”

Nobara didn’t give her time to explain. She knew she wouldn’t escape the teasing.

“Yes, never mind. I’ll head home… see you tomorrow.”

She ended the call, cutting short the risk of hearing her friend’s laughter.

Then she turned to Yuta, who smiled reassuringly.

“Shall we go?”

Maki nodded, taking a deep breath. Together, they walked down the street in silence, leaving the bar’s hum behind.

⸻ ✧ ⸻

Once home, Maki collapsed onto the couch with a soft thud, not even bothering to take off her shoes. She sank into the backrest with a long sigh, arms spread wide, her gaze fixed on the ceiling as if trying to stop it from spinning.

Yuta carefully set the keys on the side table and gently closed the door, as if afraid of waking someone. The house was enveloped in muffled silence: Panda and Toge must have already been asleep, and Maki silently thanked them for the absence of voices. She wasn’t in the mood—or in any state—to deal with more chatter.

“Want a glass of water?” Yuta asked, his tone soft, careful, walking on eggshells.

“No.”

Maki’s voice was flat, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, like a thought she’d been holding in for too long.

“Coffee?” he tried again.

“Again, no.”

Yuta hesitated, then took a few steps toward her. “Still, you did the right thing calling me.”

She mumbled something unintelligible, as if even speaking was an effort. Yuta let out a small laugh. “I thought you could handle your alcohol.”

“Usually, yes.” Maki ran a hand through her hair, messing it up even more. “Not when it’s free. And… when I have too much on my mind.”

Yuta watched her in silence, then turned toward the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her tone a mix of suspicion and curiosity.

“Making coffee anyway.”

Maki sprang up, wobbling slightly, and followed him. Her hands hit the table a bit too forcefully.

“I said I’m fine!” she snapped. “You don’t need to—” she stopped, lowering her gaze, her face flushed and tired. “…protect me, got it? I can handle myself.”

“I know, Maki. But that doesn’t mean you have to do everything alone.”

Yuta’s voice was calm, but carried an unusual firmness.

She pressed her lips together. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“This. Acting like you care in any way.”

“I-I do care about you,” he said, hesitant but sincere.

Maki froze, her gaze fixed on the floor. Her cheeks burned, and it wasn’t just the alcohol.

A few moments of silence passed.

“I guess… you’re just tired right now,” Yuta murmured, trying to ease the tension. “You drank too much… that’s all. You might say things you don’t really mean.”

“Or maybe the opposite.”

The words came from Maki almost as a whisper, more to herself than to him.

Yuta reached out toward her arm, as if inviting her to sleep, but she pushed his hand away decisively.

“Enough. Let’s face the problem. Now.”

Yuta blinked, confused. “What problem?”

Maki stepped closer than expected, studying him intently. “You know perfectly well. Do you really think I didn’t notice?”

He swallowed, blushing. “If Panda and Toge noticed something… then she definitely noticed.”

“I… well…”

Her cheeks still flushed, she held his gaze. “Let’s talk about Rika.”

“W-what?”

“You seemed… shaken.”

He forced a smile. “Well… we haven’t talked in a while. It was… unexpected.”

“Or maybe because she was with someone else?”

“Who? Kei?” Yuta laughed nervously. “N-no… they’ve known each other for years, they wouldn’t—”

But Maki’s expression froze him in place.

“Seriously… how can you be so naive?”

Yuta’s smile vanished.

“And even if it were, it will happen sooner or later,” she continued, more heated.

“I know,” he admitted quietly. “But there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“So it doesn’t bother you at all?”

Yuta didn’t answer. Maki took a step closer, eyes locked on him.

“Do you really want me to believe that after six years you don’t care even a little? But how—”

“Y-yes! Of course I care! You want me to say it?” he snapped, louder than intended.

“But she moved on,” he added, clenching his fists.

Maki caught him off guard with that sudden intensity. She lowered her gaze to the ring still on his finger. “Apparently, you didn’t.”

The silence that followed was heavy, almost tangible.

Yuta remained still, lips pressed together, staring at the floor as if he could make sense of everything there.

Maki’s words had chipped away at a wall he thought unbreakable. And no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, a small door inside him remained slightly open: the possibility, distant yet so near, that maybe one day he and Rika might reunite.

They had never really said goodbye.

Admitting it was over would be like letting go of six years of memories, everything they had built without even realizing. It hurt to let go, even though he knew he eventually would have to.

Rika, meanwhile, seemed to glide away effortlessly. Laughing with friends, living her life, making room for new experiences, without anything holding her back.

And him?

He was still there, suspended in a limbo of waiting, searching for work, finding a home, building habits he couldn’t define. Everything felt out of place, as if the world went on without noticing him, always one step behind, with a heavy heart and a mind full of ifs and maybes.

“You should do something.”

Maki’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, bringing him abruptly back to reality.

“Like what?”

“About earlier. You can’t stay locked up inside yourself waiting.”

Yuta looked up, confused. “What do you mean?”

Maki stared at him with steadfast, watery eyes. “She moved on. That Ken isn’t the first nor the last she’ll go out with.”

“Kei,” he corrected.

“Same difference.” She crossed her arms, pointing a half-smile at him. “You’ll have to do the same.”

Yuta flinched. “H-how?!”

“Go out. Meet girls. Have some fun.”

“I-I don’t—”

“You don’t have to marry every girl you meet,” Maki interrupted, her speech thick with alcohol but still sharp.

She began to circle him. “Just… be a little bold, for once.”

He raised his hands nervously, as if defending himself from an invisible attack.

“W-wait… I don’t… I-I’m not like that! I can’t just go out and try with the first girl I meet. She has to get me, connect with me, and—”

Maki rolled her eyes, a flash of exasperation veiled by genuine amusement.

“How boring.”

Then she leaned in, slowly, her fingers brushing his shoulder like a gentle shock, her smile mischievous, almost teasing.

“I didn’t say you have to look for it. Just… put yourself out there. If it happens… try. Don’t stay frozen.”

Yuta stiffened, shoulders pressed against the wall, heart hammering.

“…W-what are you doing?” he whispered, more a breath than a protest.

She tilted her head slightly, eyes shining with ambiguous light, that smile putting him immediately on edge.

“I’m teaching you something.”

Yuta swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

“Something… what?”

Maki unexpectedly let out a soft, low laugh, leaning toward him.

“Let’s do a little test: you’re at the movies, and by chance, you meet a girl you like. How do you behave?” she asked, feigning seriousness.

Yuta blushed all the way to his ears.

“I-it depends… what kind of movie is it? Because I don’t usu—”

A sharp knock on the wall, right next to his shoulder, made him jump.

“Yuta.” Her voice was low, firm.

“…Yes?”

“Focus.”

Yuta’s breathing grew uneven. He tried to look away, but her eyes were there, too close, too intense. He felt his skin heat under that proximity, his heartbeat hammering as every inch between them seemed suddenly nonexistent.

They were definitely too close.

“I-I wouldn’t know… I-I don’t… Well…”

She sighed, barely hiding a playful smile.

“You’re hopeless.”

“Hey, wrong name on the ticket, remember? I don’t know how to do these things!” he shot back, slightly wounded.

Maki leaned even closer, her words tinged with a thread of mischief.

“Then it will be even simpler.”

“In what way?”

“You’ll let her take the lead.”

Then, without breaking eye contact, she leaned in almost without thinking and pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth.

Yuta’s heart jumped, and the world seemed to stop. He stayed still for a moment, hands trembling, as the warmth of Maki’s breath brushed against his skin. Slowly, almost unconsciously, he wrapped his arms around her waist, swaying between surprise and desire.

Maki didn’t stop. Her lips glided along the curve of Yuta’s neck, and he sighed, closing his eyes as a shiver ran down his spine.

“Try to relax a little,” she whispered, her voice soft and teasing, as her hands traced over his chest, moving with light, playful touches across his shirt.

Yuta opened his eyes, attempting to ease the tension with an awkward joke.

“I-I don’t think you can do this kind of thing in a movie theater…”

Maki rubbed lightly against him, her hands sliding over his chest and shoulders, her lips still playing along his neck.

“Mh… of course you can,” she whispered, soft and amused against his ear, “…it can be a lot more fun than you think.”

That sentence completely threw him off.

He couldn’t stop imagining Maki acting like this… even in a cinema, between popcorn and uncomfortable seats. If she said it, that meant she had done it.

He wondered if she had always been this bold, then shook his head: of course she had. It was Maki.

Unlike him, who would have asked for permission even for a tiptoe kiss.

His head was spinning. He couldn’t tell if it was the kisses, the warm scent of her skin, or just the fact that Maki — Maki! — was really doing this. His heart pounded hard, his breathing uneven, and a ridiculous thought crossed his mind: maybe I’m about to faint… in the most pleasurable way possible.

With a hesitant yet determined motion, he began to respond a little to her touch. His hands ran down her back, brushing her skin gently, as her lips moved toward his collarbone, warm and soft.

Maki lifted her chin slightly, eyes scrutinizing him with that challenging, playful gleam.

“You really took the whole ‘let me lead’ thing seriously,” she murmured, her voice a bit husky, tinged with irony.

Yuta laughed nervously, his heart hammering in his chest. “It’s because… I… uh…” he swallowed, searching for words, “…I don’t know if that’s what you really want…”

She stared at him for a long moment, then tilted her head slightly, a half-smile of mischief on her lips.

“So… you don’t want to take a little risk, just this once?”

For a moment, Yuta hesitated, torn. Then, unable to resist, he let his hands slide over Maki’s hips, leaning toward her, exploring her cheek and jawline with his lips. He paused at her neck, and Maki pressed lightly against him in response.

Yuta froze, his brain short-circuiting.

He let Maki’s fingers slip under his shirt, feeling the warmth of her skin, taking his time. He traced her face with gentle kisses, brushing her lips lightly, as their breathing grew shorter.

In that instant, caught up in the moment, Yuta leaned forward: his lips brushed hers softly, a brief kiss charged with desire.

Maki sighed softly, surprised but receptive, her warm breath mingling with his. She pressed against him, letting herself be found without pushing too far, while their hands continued to explore with slow, curious touches.

Then they pulled back just enough to breathe, and Yuta stopped, unable to look away from her.

Before saying anything else, he saw Maki lean toward him again, letting her hair brush against his face, sliding like silk across his skin. The faintly sweet scent of her shampoo intoxicated him more than the alcohol still flushing her cheeks.

“You know. You’re way too easy to tease,” she murmured.

Yuta swallowed, trying to maintain control, but his hands moved on their own: they caressed her hips, moving just below the curve of her waist. He felt the warmth of her body through the thin fabric, and every tiny movement made him shiver.

She came even closer, so near that her breath warmed his mouth, their space shrinking to a mere whisper.

Yuta’s heart pounded so fiercely he feared she could hear it. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself be drawn in, and a new kiss — deeper, more hungry — ignited between them. Maki’s hands gripped his shirt, as if to hold him against her.

He felt like he was about to lose his mind.

Everything was happening so fast, too fast.

And yet, a part of him — maybe the most selfish part — secretly hoped for it.

When he was with Maki, he felt better than he ever had. He liked the way she acted, the way they joked together, those rare smiles that seemed made just for him.

But even though part of him wanted to let go, there was that little voice in his head screaming at him to stop: Maki wasn’t herself.

She had always been direct, but not like this.

The truth was, he was a total klutz in these situations… and he knew that a sober version of her would never throw herself into his arms like this.

Panda had told him: Maki tended to sabotage herself. And now he was realizing it firsthand.

She would regret this tomorrow. Maybe they’d stop talking.

And Yuta didn’t want that.

He didn’t want to lose her.

At that moment, Maki pulled back slightly, her breath short, eyes shining with an unusual light. Her hair fell a little messy across her face, and as she let her fingers glide along the edge of his shirt, her hands trembled slightly, betraying a hint of clumsiness.

“You know, Okkotsu…” she murmured, her voice just a little husky, “if you want… we can continue... in my room. I don’t think Panda or Toge will come check on us.”

Yuta’s eyes went wide, blood rushing to his face. “W-w-what?!”

Maki leaned toward him again, determined to kiss him, but her feet slipped slightly on the carpet, and she had to take an uncertain step to avoid losing her balance. Yuta dodged her, slipping sideways and putting some distance between them, his hands raised in a confused, defensive gesture.

“M-Maki! Wait!” he coughed, nearly choking on his own saliva. “We… we can’t! You… you’re not yourself and…”

She arched an eyebrow, a half-smile teasing him and making his heart skip a beat. “Nonsense, I’m fine.”

But as she tried to reach for his shirt, her focus wavered for a moment, and she had to lean on the edge of the sofa to keep from toppling over.

Yuta paled. “W-wait!” he tried to stop her, but in doing so, he stumbled backward too hastily. His heel hit the edge of the sofa, and in an instant he tumbled into the cushions with a clumsy thud, breaking the tension of the moment.

Maki looked down at him, arms crossed, hair slightly tousled, that disdainful expression saying without words: you’re hopeless.

“You could have just said you didn’t like me,” she huffed, trying to mask a flicker of hesitation behind her irony.

Yuta sat up, massaging his sore back. “It’s not that,” he stammered, gaze lowered. “It’s just… I don’t think it’s right. You’re… too confused.”

She laughed softly, tilting her head, with that tone that always managed to throw him off balance. “Confused, me?”

Yuta’s heart raced. He drew a deep breath, forcing himself not to look away. “You’re drunk,” he said finally, low but firm. “And I don’t want you to do something you might regret tomorrow.”

For a moment, Maki froze, staring at him as if trying to read his mind. Then she sighed, letting her shoulders drop, running a hand through her hair with an exasperated gesture.

“Damn… you’re right,” she admitted, muttering. “That explains everything.”

Yuta returned a faint smile, tinged with a little regret. “Yeah…”

She looked at him for a moment longer than necessary, tilting her head. “You know… for what it’s worth, you kiss better than I thought.”

Yuta blushed instantly. “Oh… th-thank you,” he stammered, unable to hold her gaze.

“You’re… well… you’re very…” he tried to speak, but the words died in his throat. He looked away, biting his lip. “N-never mind.”

Maki didn’t reply. She just stared at him in silence, but a faint blush appeared on her cheeks, betraying her.

“We should go to sleep,” Yuta suggested softly, trying to bring some order to his racing heartbeat.

She nodded, pulling away unsteadily, and made her way to the bedroom. Before going in, she grabbed her phone and placed it on the hallway nightstand.

“Nobara was right,” she said, pausing for a moment. “But don’t tell her.”

Yuta smiled at her, calm. “Don’t worry.”

They exchanged one last look, both still slightly flushed.

“Goodnight, Maki.”

“Goodnight, Yuta.”

As soon as her bedroom door closed behind her, Yuta stayed frozen in the hallway, as if time itself had held its breath.

Then he collapsed onto the sofa, sinking into the cushions with a long sigh, hands in his hair, eyes lost in the void.

His heart hadn’t stopped racing yet. It seemed ready to burst out of his chest.

He thought back to the feeling of Maki’s hands on his skin, her light yet confident kisses, that mischievous smile that had made his knees weak.

And how, against all odds, he had managed to stop himself.

He covered his face with his hands, still blushing to his ears, letting out a frustrated groan.

“I’m not going to survive this night.”

He closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath.

One step at a time… and hopefully without a heart attack.

⸻ ✧ ⸻

Maki slowly opened her eyes, her muscles stiff and her head throbbing as if someone were drumming with a jackhammer. The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, pricking at her eyelids, and for a moment the edges of the room blurred, soft and impressionistic.

She realized she wasn’t even in her pajamas—still in the same clothes from the night before. A faint blush rose to her cheeks as she imagined the exact moment she’d touched the bed: probably flopped onto it like a sack of potatoes, limbs splayed, and face first into the pillow, completely surrendered to sleep.

Fleeting memories floated up—disjointed fragments of last night: Nobara laughing at the bar, glasses clinking, Rika…

A hollow feeling ran through her, as if a part of the night had evaporated into thin air. She brushed a hand over her forehead, a shiver trailing down her spine. Maybe she’d said too much… maybe… No. She didn’t want to think about it.

She paused, taking a slow breath, and scanned the room: Yuta wasn’t there.

A small relief—but the lingering guilt didn’t fully ease.

She rose from the bed with unsteady, careful steps, retrieving her glasses as she tiptoed down the hallway, moving like a clumsy thief.

The smell of coffee hit her instantly, mingling with the warm, comforting aroma of breakfast just beginning.

Yuta was in the kitchen, focused on preparing breakfast as if nothing had happened. His hair was a little messy, his shirt slightly unbuttoned, giving him a relaxed, effortless look that was oddly reassuring. When he saw her, he smiled softly, calm and unselfconscious, as if he had always been there.

“Morning.”

She froze for a moment, trying to piece together her hazy memories. Her voice came out barely above a whisper, hesitant, tinged with irritation.

“Tell me I didn’t mess up last night… because I have a total blackout.”

Yuta raised an eyebrow, not breaking his rhythm of pouring coffee.

“Nothing to worry about,” he said. “You behaved… like yourself. A bit unpredictable, sure.” His tone was soft, gentle, with a teasing hint of irony.

Maki studied him suspiciously, as if trying to read every secret in his expression. The slight tremor in his voice didn’t help reassure her.

“You mean… nothing embarrassing happened?”

Yuta held back a grin. “If by embarrassing you mean getting on the table and singing Love, Day After Tomorrow…” He shrugged lightly. “…then no. None of that.”

Maki raised an eyebrow. “So… nothing happened?”

Yuta leaned on the edge of the table, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Well… we talked, the usual. You gave me some advice. Simple. Nothing major.”

He handed her the coffee, and Maki took it, still wary.

“Advice?” she asked, tilting her head, studying him. “About what?”

He fumbled slightly, spilling a little spoonful of sugar into the cup.

“Advice on… well… um…”

“Yuta.”

“About… taking a chance, maybe… trying to go out with someone.”

Maki blinked, caught off guard. She hadn’t expected such a conversation—strange, maybe a little awkward—but the realization that nothing extreme had happened brought her a quiet relief.

“That’s it?” she murmured, trying not to sound too relieved.

Yuta nodded repeatedly, avoiding her gaze, his face lightly flushed.

“Though… not the right time. Not now.”

Maki’s eyes lingered on him, searching for truth. He seemed sincere, perhaps intentionally vague, but she trusted him enough to know he would have told her if anything serious had occurred.

Sipping her coffee slowly, the headache began to fade, replaced by a gentle amusement.

She had encouraged Yuta to take a chance—with her. A piece of advice like that. She must have been really drunk.

And yet, the thought of him with someone else made her chest tighten. It wasn’t just the lingering headache—it was a pang of something deeper, a flutter of possessiveness and care that left her breathless.

She watched him move around the kitchen, arranging breakfast. For him: rice, soup, eggs, traditional; for her: toasted bread and a steaming cup of coffee.

“I’ll never understand your salty breakfasts,” she murmured, squinting at him.

Yuta glanced up, hair tousled, a small smile on his lips. “It’s tradition. Rice, soup, eggs. You get used to it after a few mornings,” he said, playful, and Maki felt a small smile tug at her lips.

She narrowed her eyes, curling one side of her mouth into a playful grimace. “Well, congratulations, Zen master. I’ll stick to my coffee.”

Yuta laughed. “Only you can make coffee seem like the most interesting moment of the day.”

Maki blushed slightly, but this time she didn’t look away. At least, not until Yuta met her gaze, forcing her to focus on the food and the cup in her hands, rather than the tumultuous thoughts of the night before.

Yet, despite the headache and the lingering effects of last night’s drinking, a thought slipped into her mind: she had never felt so close to Yuta. Close in a way few people ever made her feel, as if a simple gesture or a glance could dissolve any distance between them.

It felt strange, almost new, and for a moment, she felt like she could breathe a little easier.

Chapter Text

⋆ Two Hearts and an Intruder ⋆

It was a quiet afternoon. Yuta had just shut down his PC and was about to go for a walk when a sharp scream from Panda’s room made him jump.
“I already apologized, damn it!” Panda shouted. A dull thud immediately followed—something had been thrown hard.

Yuta sighed, trying to ignore it. His eyes fell on Toge, passing by with headphones on, heading for the kitchen. Always the headphones—partly to focus on the music, partly to block out the house chaos.

“They’re at it again…” Yuta muttered.

Toge nodded, expressionless.

Yuta scratched the back of his head. “For what this time?”

Toge shrugged, as if the answer was obvious. Anything.

A shiver of frustration ran down Yuta’s spine. He wanted to intervene, but he remembered the last time he had. Maki and Panda had argued over who should cook dinner.

Result? Panda hurled a spatula at the fridge, Maki dodged, and Yuta got stuck between the table and couch, trying to calm them. Some battles, he decided, were better left alone.

With a sigh, he left, leaving the shouts and thuds behind.

A few minutes later, walking the quiet streets, he saw Maki pass him at a brisk pace. Her face was set in a scowl. He froze, then followed at a distance, careful not to rush.
“Hey… you okay?” he asked, trying not to sound intrusive.

Maki spun around sharply. “Not today,” she said, curt but not harsh.

Yuta cleared his throat, hesitating. “If you want… I can help. Or at least keep you company. I don’t want to pry, but…” He stopped, stammering.

Their eyes met. Slowly, the hardness in her gaze softened.

“Panda… ruined my wrist and knee guards,” she said, walking fast but losing some edge in her tone. “Bought the new model, and that moron…” She shook her head. “…decided to use them as a trampoline to launch training balls.”

Yuta held back a small smile. “Typical Panda…”

“And now I have to buy new ones!” Maki added, clenching her fists in her jacket pockets.

Yuta noticed a small object in her bag. Not her wallet. Smaller. Compact. Like…
“Wait… is that Panda’s?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Maki shrugged. “I didn’t say it was with my money.”

Yuta stared for a moment, then smiled. “Mind if I come with you?”

She flinched. “No need… I’ll be quick.”

“I was planning to walk downtown anyway,” Yuta added, trying to sound casual.

Maki didn’t answer immediately. A faint smile flickered on her face. Hidden amusement under the anger. Yuta felt oddly relieved, like a weight had lifted.

⸻ ✧ ⸻

As they neared the store, they passed a cinema showing Tenki no Koe 2, a popular animated film that everyone had been talking about. Romantic story, breathtaking landscapes. Neon lights lit the sidewalk; colorful posters reflected on their faces.

Maki paused, looking at the poster. Nostalgia and irritation mixed. “I remember seeing the first one… terrible,” she muttered, half-smile, eyebrows furrowed. “Couldn’t follow it. All the time-travel confusion… ridiculous.”

Yuta flinched. Memories of last night came back: Maki, drunk, pressing against him, talking about having fun at the cinema.

A shiver ran down his spine. Cheeks warmed.

She noticed. His eyes widened, hands clenched in his jacket pockets, as if he might bolt any second.

Maki couldn’t help but nudge him lightly with her knee. “Hey, seriously… what’s wrong?” she asked, tilting her head, amused but with a hint of exasperation.

Yuta spun away. Words caught in his throat. “N-nothing!” he stammered. “Better go, the street’s this way!”

Maki studied him, eyebrows raised, lips curved in a curious smile. She didn’t press it. He was shaken enough already.

They continued side by side. Silence, broken only by rustling leaves and their footsteps on the pavement.

⸻ ✧ ⸻

The sporting goods store was spacious and bright, with neatly organized shelves full of equipment of all kinds: colorful tracksuits, gloves, pads, balls, and small training tools. The smell of rubber and fresh fabric hung in the air, mingling with the low murmur of customers and the sound of carts gliding over the shiny floors.

Maki moved confidently between the aisles, running her hands over the items as if greeting old friends: training suits, specialized pads, gloves with perfect stitching.

Yuta followed a few steps behind, watching with a mix of curiosity and admiration.
“Wow… it’s really big,” he muttered.

Maki shrugged without taking her eyes off a pair of well-padded knee guards.
“Enough. Don’t tell me you’ve never been in one of these.”

“Not that I remember,” Yuta admitted, trying not to look too out of place.

She shot him a quick, sharp glance, then returned to scanning the shelves. Yuta, almost without realizing it, let his eyes trace Maki’s profile: the slight bend in her knees as she inspected the pads, the precision of her movements, the determination in her decision-making.

He watched her turn toward a corner of the store, clearly knowing where to find what she needed.

“Be right back,” she said firmly, striding between the shelves.

Yuta lingered, taking in the environment for a moment, still slightly disoriented: the high shelves, the vivid colors of the suits, the way the light reflected off the plastic of the pads… everything felt new and captivating.

“Maybe I should train more…” he thought, feeling an awkward twinge of self-criticism.

As he browsed through gloves, ropes, and light weights, a strange motivation began to grow. Perhaps, he reflected, beside him he wanted someone more athletic, someone who could keep up without lagging behind, someone who could really match her… and he, with a heart that beat faster just at the sight of her, feared he wasn’t that person.

Meanwhile, Maki stopped in front of the pads, her hands brushing over the different models with careful attention. Some were too padded, others too stiff, some complicated to adjust. She wanted protection without being hindered, and every choice seemed important.

She turned to look for a clerk—and froze. Her eyes landed on a scene that made her stiffen: a girl with long blonde hair was laughing next to Takumi, who smiled at her with his usual enthusiasm.

“Maki-chan!” he greeted, that disarming air making her raise an eyebrow.

A mix of confusion and embarrassment warmed her cheeks. They hadn’t messaged since that night she’d been drunk, and even though she hadn’t said anything compromising, the unusual frequency of his replies made her uneasy. She cleared her throat, trying to look away as he approached, still smiling.

“Hey! Great to see you!” Takumi exclaimed, as if nothing had happened. “Shopping too? I need to get a new pair of climbing shoes…”

Maki watched him out of the corner of her eye as he arranged the boots on the shelves.

Memories of social media posts showing him climbing indoors and on outdoor rocks came to mind.

She shrugged to herself, convincing herself she hadn’t sought them out. They had simply… appeared before her eyes by chance, as if technology and Wi-Fi were punishing her. Admitting she felt even a small interest—just in her head—was much harder.

“…I don’t like throwing them away, but they were ruined,” he continued.

The blonde girl giggled. “About time! Those old ones were so worn even a mouse could make a nest in them!”

“Yeah, true… but they were my lucky shoes!” Takumi laughed, shaking his head.

“All stories. You just have trouble letting go of your stuff,” she said with a playful smirk.

Maki watched them, noticing how natural their rapport was. They laughed, joked… like lifelong friends, or maybe something more. A twinge of irritation ran through her stomach, mixed with the inevitable awareness: Takumi wasn’t the type to stop at just one girl.

Then he looked at her, as if noticing her presence for the first time.

“Oh, right. Did you need a hand with something?” he asked the blonde. “Sakura, can you help her?”

“No need,” Maki said sharply.

“Really, it’s fine,” Sakura interjected, smiling kindly. “For anything you poss—”

A loud crash cut through the air: a pile of helmets and shin guards toppled to the floor. At the center of the chaos, Yuta bent forward, arms outstretched as if sheer willpower could stop the disaster.

“What happened?!” the girl exclaimed, rushing toward him.

“I… I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry!” Yuta stammered, cheeks flaming.

Maki brought a hand to her forehead, red with embarrassment. “Idiot…” she muttered through gritted teeth.

“It slipped!” Yuta tried to justify himself, bending to pick up the scattered pieces.

Sakura crouched to help him, followed by a clerk who had rushed over, while Yuta kept apologizing, promising to pay for any damages.

Meanwhile, Takumi had approached Maki, lowering his voice with an ironic smile.

“Tell me… does he follow you everywhere like a little puppy, or am I just unlucky to always catch you together?”

The remark wasn’t mean-spirited—more a badly timed joke than an insult. Yet Maki felt a twinge of annoyance.

“Little puppy, huh? Funny you say that,” she replied, crossing her arms. “Considering at least he has teeth. Not just feathers to show off.”

Takumi stared, surprised, then burst out laughing, amused by her response.

“I don’t get what you mean, but I liked the joke anyway,” he said.

Maki raised an eyebrow and, without adding more, headed to the register.

Yuta kept apologizing, head down, words spilling like a rushing river, while Sakura tried to ease the tension with all the kindness she could muster.

After the fortieth “sorry,” Maki huffed, raising a hand in a sharp gesture to silence him immediately. She paused, face flushed, a mix of embarrassment and frustration tightening her jaw. She didn’t know whether she wanted to run, laugh, or scream.

As they exited, Takumi waved quickly at Sakura, almost shyly.

“See you at dinner tomorrow!”

Sakura smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Hope the uncle will be there this time.”

His smile softened, eyes lowered slightly, as if conveying a quiet hope. “Yeah, hopefully.”

Then he turned to Yuta and Maki and fell into step beside her. Maki stayed impassive, hands in jacket pockets, gaze fixed ahead.

“What are you doing?” she asked, tone slightly wary.

“I’m coming out with you,” he said, half-smiling to ease the tension.

Maki and Yuta exchanged a silent glance, a wordless conversation that said more than a thousand words.
“We… we’re heading home now,” she murmured, almost to herself.

Takumi stepped closer, nearly blocking their path, calm but with subtle pressure in his stance.
“I understand. But I wanted to ask a small favor.”

Maki stopped, eyebrow raised.

“Will you help me pick out a bike for Keiji? It’s for his birthday.”

Maki jumped, eyes wide. “What? Why me?”

Takumi shrugged, then, theatrically, mimed the little brother’s gestures as if performing a tiny show.
“He’s made a lot of friends at your dojo and talks about you all the time. Always says… Maki-sensei can do this! Maki-sensei is so strong!”

An involuntary smile appeared on Maki’s lips. She looked away, hiding the slight embarrassment. “Yes, but…”

“And I literally panic when it comes to choices,” Takumi continued, hands clasped in a pleading gesture, eyes wide and imploring. “I’d never forgive myself. Pleeease!”

Maki stayed silent, breathing slowly, trying not to let the twinge of amusement tickle her stomach. Then she sighed, shrugging lightly.
“Fine… enough.”

“YES!” Takumi exclaimed, as if a huge weight had lifted from his shoulders. His smile widened, genuine and bright, shoulders relaxing.

Yuta opened his mouth to speak, but Takumi cut him off with a wave.
“Hey, you can come too. A third opinion is fine.”

Yuta blinked, surprised, face slightly red. It wasn’t part of his plan, but he couldn’t leave Maki alone with Takumi.
“Okay,” he said, bowing his head slightly and offering a small, shy smile.

Takumi fell into step with them, awkwardly draping an arm around both.
“This way, then!”

The embrace lasted less than two seconds. Maki immediately blocked him with a hand, shooting him a stern look, though behind the fake toughness a small blush betrayed her reaction. Yuta, however, felt a warm flutter in his chest, the awkwardness making him clench his hands slightly.

⸻ ✧ ⸻

As they walked side by side, the cool air brushed against them, and the sound of their footsteps on the asphalt seemed to mark a small, intimate rhythm, theirs alone. Takumi talked non-stop, a rapid, lively flow of words, as if every thought passing through his head was urgent to share.

He told little anecdotes about Keiji, recalled funny incidents with his friends, commented on absurd things as if they were groundbreaking discoveries, and invented improbable scenarios about the bike they were about to choose… all while walking between Maki and Yuta, laughing and gesturing, dragging them along with his energy.

Maki, trying to maintain composure and distance, realized how hard it was to ignore the lightness of his smile and the warmth of his gaze that occasionally met hers.

She still didn’t quite know how to categorize him. From what she had seen on social media, he seemed very confident, always surrounded by friends, but he also had a slightly awkward side—playful, yes, but with a humor that only he often understood.

Yet he did it in such a natural way that it wasn’t immediately noticeable.

He seemed… normal. Without that “pretty boy” air she had seen the first few times.

Once they arrived at the store, Takumi immediately dragged them to the right section.

The place was full of fluorescent lights highlighting every detail of the new bikes, and the air smelled of rubber and freshly polished metal. Neat rows of bikes of every shape and color lined the aisles, with gleaming seats, pedals still shiny, and handlebars reflecting the light like tiny mirrors.

Takumi moved back and forth between the models, eyes shining with excitement, pointing at random bikes and accessories, talking without pause as if his enthusiasm needed immediate expression.

“Look at this one!” he exclaimed, grabbing a shiny red bike and lifting it slightly to show its lightness. “It’s perfect for Keiji! Light, but sturdy, and it has an automatic gear shift.”

Maki stepped closer, hands clasped behind her back. She leaned slightly, inspecting the frame and brakes carefully.

“Light and sturdy… an interesting contradiction,” she commented with a small smile. “Do you already know how he’ll set it up, or should we check if he prefers disc brakes or rim brakes?”

Takumi scratched the back of his neck, a bit embarrassed.
“Uh… well, I don’t want to mess it up, so… yeah, better check.”

Meanwhile, Yuta had noticed a blue bike, with a light frame and some sporty details that seemed more suited to him. He touched it carefully, examining the tires and pedals.

“This one? What do you think?” he asked, a little timidly.

Takumi’s eyes widened, face lighting up with contagious excitement.
“Wooow! This one’s great too! It’s got so much personality!”

Maki raised an eyebrow and shook her head.
“They’re practically identical…”

But Takumi didn’t let that discourage him. His energy began to take on an almost theatrical quality: he ran his hands through his hair and walked in circles around the two bikes, as if on a stage.
“Keiji likes red… but also blue, if I’m not mistaken! Red or blue? Blue or red?! Damn it! Why does life have to be so complicated?!”

Yuta watched, incredulous.
“He wasn’t joking when he said he panics…” he murmured, holding back a smile.

Maki sighed, stepping closer and placing a steady hand on his arm.
“Get a grip,” she said calmly. “We’ll find the right one.”

For a moment, Takumi froze there, awkward and almost defeated, then a genuine smile lit up his face. She looked away, trying to keep a neutral expression, but couldn’t help noticing the slight relief washing over him.

Time passed faster than expected. Maki explained every technical detail with precision: the ideal handlebar height, brake adjustments, saddle position. Yuta chimed in occasionally, offering measured but accurate observations, while Takumi listened, letting the two guide him, gesturing and commenting loudly, inventing improbable scenarios.
“And what if Keiji races the neighbors? No, wait… what if he hits the cat across the street?!”

Finally, they stopped in front of a dark green bike, elegant, with a lightweight aluminum frame, disc brakes, and a seven-speed gear shift that was easy to use. Maki ran a hand over the handlebar and nodded.
“This one works. Durable, stable, and suitable for a kid… and the color isn’t too flashy, so he won’t get bored of it quickly.”

Takumi’s eyes lit up.
“I’m picking it up Thursday! I can’t wait to see Keiji’s face!”

Maki stared at him for a moment, raising an eyebrow.
“Check the brakes properly before letting him ride alone, okay?”

“Absolutely! Thanks, Maki-chan!” Takumi exclaimed, smiling so widely it almost seemed like a joke. She looked away, blushing slightly, trying to appear indifferent.

Then Takumi turned to Yuta with the same enthusiasm.
“And thank you too, buddy!”

Yuta shrugged, slightly embarrassed.
“Eh… I didn’t do much.”

He patted Yuta on the shoulder.
“Doesn’t matter. You still gave your opinion. Without you, I’d still be freaking out over the bike color.” Then he gestured broadly toward a small smoothie stand.
“I’ll get you something as thanks. Come on, let’s go!”

Yuta opened his mouth to protest, but Takumi cut him off with a contagious laugh.
“No excuses. Let’s move!”

Surprisingly, Maki didn’t object. Partly because she felt a slight hunger and the smoothies, with their vibrant, shiny colors, looked irresistible; partly because, simply, she didn’t have the energy to argue—not this time.

They arrived at the stand and began choosing smoothies. Yuta lingered in front of the fruit combinations, scrutinizing every detail silently, like a tiny expert, while Maki and Takumi moved to the side, sipping their drinks. The sweet coldness of the smoothies enveloped them, contrasting the warmth of the afternoon, and Maki felt a small relief letting herself enjoy the fresh, sugary taste.

Takumi, eyes sparkling as he glanced at Yuta, turned to Maki with his usual lively tone, as if there were no room for embarrassment.
“You know, I misjudged him. Your friend’s funny.”

Maki shrugged slightly, staying silent.

“I saw he’s wearing a ring… is he taken or what?” Takumi continued, curious and unwilling to leave anything unexplored.

Maki flinched slightly, fingers tightening around her glass.
“It’s… complicated. He broke up with his ex a while ago.”

“Oh…” Takumi nodded, letting his gaze drop to his smoothie for a moment. The silence that followed felt suspended, dense and tense, but neither broke it immediately.

“So… he’s seeing no one? Because Sakura thought he was cute and…” He trailed off mid-sentence, as if the ellipses in his words suddenly connected in his mind.

Maki jumped.
“S-Sakura?!”

He nodded, amused.
“Yeah, you met her before, at the store. She’s my cousin.”

A shiver ran through her stomach, an abrupt, unpleasant twist that made her feel ridiculous.
“Your… cousin?” she murmured, voice almost lost in herself.

“Ah… thought I told you…” Takumi added, a bit surprised at her hesitant look.

“No… but… never mind,” Maki whispered, lowering her gaze and sipping slowly in silence, the faint blush rising to her cheeks like a small flame.

Takumi noticed, and burst into laughter, as if everything had suddenly clicked, the cheerful sound filling the space between them.
“Ahhh, I get it! That explains the comment earlier!” He turned to her, laughing heartily. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous!”

At that comment, Maki nearly choked on her straw, coughing loudly, eyes tearing slightly from the effort.
“What the hell are you talking about?!” she shouted, trying to catch her breath.

“So cute, all red-faced.”

“I was choking, you idiot!” she snapped, her irritated tone unable to completely hide the tremor in her voice.

Takumi laughed a bit more, then his gaze became serious, intense and direct, as if evaluating something important.
“You know… I like you, Maki-chan. I’m not just saying it.”

The words fell with disarming naturalness. Maki froze, unable to react. A sudden warmth flushed her cheeks, hands gripping the glass without realizing it.

“Don’t say nonsense,” she finally said, resuming her sip. Takumi, however, wasn’t discouraged and continued staring at her with that impassive yet cheeky air.

“And lose that dumb expression, or I’ll make it disappear myself,” he added, voice sharp but with a hint of challenge in his eyes.

On the other side of the store, Yuta was approaching, trying to stay unnoticed, but the words hit him like a slap to the heart. His chest jumped—a mix of surprise, jealousy, and something deeper he still couldn’t name. It wasn’t just that Takumi was speaking to Maki like that, but the natural ease with which he did it, as if it were obvious, left him breathless.

“Oh, hey! So what did you end up choosing?” Takumi asked, noticing him.

Yuta froze for a moment, then recovered, voice uncertain.
“…Apple… green apple. I think.”

They exchanged a silent glance, Maki equally speechless, and for a moment it was as if a thin thread of embarrassment tied them together in that suspended space.

It was strange to see her like this, different from usual. Yuta shivered slightly: maybe, deep down, she really liked Takumi, and the thought sent an unexpected chill through him.

⸻ ✧ ⸻

After that brief moment, the waters seemed to calm. They stayed together a little longer, chatting until Takumi had to leave.

“Thanks again for the help, you guys!” he called back, but then immediately turned around again, shouting to Yuta in his usual lively tone, “Hey, think about it, alright? My cousin’s really nice!”

Yuta jumped, eyes widening in surprise, and Maki froze too, staring at the air as if trying to figure out whether she had heard correctly.

Once Takumi had walked away, they strolled down the street toward home in a silence that seemed to breathe with them. Their footsteps on the sidewalk echoed lightly, accompanied by the rustle of leaves in the wind. It wasn’t a comfortable silence, nor an oppressive one: it was a silence full of unspoken questions, a fragile balance neither of them dared to break.

Yuta diverted his gaze from the street and rested it on Maki. A timid smile escaped him, almost imperceptible, before his eyes drifted to her hand. With a sudden courage, he slowly reached out his fingers toward hers. But Maki, without realizing it, withdrew her hand under her jacket.

Yuta flinched, heart leaping in his throat.

Maki looked at him, one eyebrow raised.
“Hm? Did you say something?”

He cleared his throat, visibly awkward.
“Uh… that bike… Keiji’s going to be happy, right?” he murmured, trying to break the silence with a neutral comment. His hands fidgeted nervously in his jacket pockets, betraying the uncertainty he didn’t dare admit aloud.

She glanced sideways and nodded.
“Yeah… I think so.”

A brief, shy, almost unconscious smile brushed their lips. Yuta lowered his gaze to the sidewalk in front of him, then lifted it again toward Maki, as if seeking confirmation in her silence.

“So…” she murmured hesitantly, her hair stirred by the gentle wind.

“Well…” he replied, voice slightly broken by embarrassment, fingers tightening nervously.

The words came at the same time, without premeditation.

“Would you go out with him/her?”

They looked into each other’s eyes, freezing for a moment. Both flushed and looked away, as if their burning cheeks might betray the thoughts they didn’t dare voice.

Yuta scratched the back of his head, clearly uneasy.
“I-I don’t think so. She’s cute, but… I don’t… feel ready.”

Maki sighed, the breath brushing his face, and a moment of silence followed, heavy with conflicting thoughts.

“And you with… with Takumi?” Yuta asked hesitantly.

She lowered her gaze, hands tightening around the edges of her jacket. She couldn’t deny it: Takumi wasn’t indifferent to her. Especially now, getting to know him better, he seemed completely different from the image she had formed at first—more spontaneous, lighter, closer than she expected.

Still, she didn’t want to make the same mistake again. Nobara had been right: she couldn’t use another guy to forget the first. Especially if she didn’t want to.

Because, deep down… she liked Yuta.

And maybe it was time to take a risk. The idea unsettled her, scared her, but at the same time warmed her chest like a sudden fire, intense and sweet all at once.

“I’d say no,” she murmured, almost to herself, voice steady, but heart racing.

A suspended silence followed, full of thoughts timidly peeking out without the courage to surface.

Maki felt nervous, a small knot in her stomach. She didn’t even know how to start without sounding ridiculous.

“On Friday, I need to pick up a book… nothing special…” she said at last, clearing her throat and looking at her feet on the sidewalk. “It wouldn’t be bad… if you came too. That way… well… at least I wouldn’t be bored alone.”

Yuta looked at her, surprised, and a faint, almost imperceptible smile curved his lips. He stepped a little closer to her, hesitant, as if he wanted to offer comfort without saying anything.
“Ah… sure, yeah! I can come.”

Another brief silence followed. This time it was him who broke the wait, voice barely a whisper “…Maybe… after, we could stop somewhere to grab something to eat?”

Maki flinched slightly, holding back a smile as a sudden warmth spread across her cheeks.

“If you want. Just… spending some time together,” he continued.

She turned slightly, hiding her face behind her hair, but her nervous hands clenched her backpack for a moment. When she looked up, Yuta was watching her with sincere eyes and a hint of embarrassment on his face.

A small smile escaped her.
“Okay.”

They didn’t speak for a while, but in that silence, there was more than words could ever convey. It was a moment of awareness, of possibility: a small step toward something they had both been afraid to name.

Chapter Text

⋆ The Weekend Survival Guide: Maki Edition ⋆

As the days passed, Yuta started acting… weird. 

More than usual.

One day, he burned the rice. Twice.

Then he poured salt into the tea, grabbing the wrong container.

When Maki opened the microwave to heat her coffee, she found a metal spoon inside. She made a face.

“What were you trying to do, start a nuclear experiment?”

Yuta didn’t respond.

From the table, Panda looked up from his matcha cup and sighed.

“He already ruined the miso. And the teapot.”

Then he bit his lip. He had said too much.

That evening, Maki found him sprawled on the couch, buried under a blanket that covered almost half his face, scrolling through videos of funny cats on his phone with a distant, vacant expression.

Occasionally, he’d flash a faint smile, then sigh, as if even laughing was exhausting.

Maki didn’t say anything. She simply went into the kitchen to grab a soda.

Inside, Panda and Toge were sitting across from each other like two challengers locked in a long, unfinished shogi match.

Panda’s face betrayed that he was holding something back, while Inumaki typed silently on his phone.

Maki scrutinized them for a moment before giving a vague nod toward the living room.

“What’s up with him now?” Her tone was sharp, commanding, like a superior demanding a status report.

Panda exchanged a glance with Toge, seeking backup. Toge shrugged and nodded—he’d find out anyway.

“A couple of days ago,” Panda started, running a hand over the back of his neck, “Yuta got the email from the museum he applied to. He didn’t get in.”

Maki raised an eyebrow, saying nothing.

“Seems like he was a sure thing, but at the last moment they pulled back. They said they’d get back to him, but you know…”

Toge, with perfect timing, showed her his phone screen: a fish emoji followed by a broken heart.

Classic.

“What happened with the other interview?”

“They took someone else.”

“And the one from last week?”

“Ghosted.”

Maki blinked.

“So now he just rots on the couch?” she commented, pressing her lips together. Her gaze sharpened.

“Not intentional, I don’t think, but… yeah,” admitted Panda.

“Yeah,” Toge echoed, succinctly.

A heavy silence fell.

Then Panda stood, casually grabbing a box of matcha mikado sticks from the shelf.

“At least he’s not breaking anything anymore.”

“You can say that again. I hid the last remaining cups,” Maki snapped.

Panda chuckled, nibbling on a stick. Then, glancing at his phone, he raised his eyebrows.

“Better get some sleep. Early morning tomorrow.”

Maki blinked.

“Ah, right. Go to your family.”

Panda nodded, smiling.

He’d been talking about it for weeks: some kind of big family gathering, part traditional lunch, part circus.

Last time, he had told the story of his brother in China, convinced he had invented a “fusion revolution,” who had made chocolate-filled gyoza—a choice that left everyone slightly baffled, and the taste decidedly… unique.

Maki had never met his parents in person, unlike Toge. He had the “luck”—or misfortune—of running into Panda’s grandmother in a particularly memorable moment.

He still recounted, half-amused, half-incredulous, how she had caught him making tea and, without a word, started talking to her plants in the garden as if they were old friends, convinced it was the only way for them to grow strong.

Toge had stood there, frozen, unsure whether to be fascinated or scared.

Panda started down the hallway, then paused halfway, as if he’d forgotten something.

“Oh, right. Can you keep an eye on Yuta while I’m gone? Nothing heavy—just make sure he checks his emails and remembers his interviews. He’s really down at the moment.”

“... Like a babysitter?” Maki snapped, almost knocking over her bottle. “Can’t Toge do it?”

She gestured at their roommate, but he raised his hands in surrender.

“Aetherfall Online tournament in Chigasaki,” Panda said solemnly. “Top five. He’ll be gone all weekend.”

Toge raised two fingers in a victory sign.

Maki huffed, crossing her arms.

“Come on…” Panda insisted. “Can’t you see how he’s doing?”

He nodded toward Yuta, still curled up under the blanket, eyes blank. He scrolled through videos on loop without really watching, as if his mind was elsewhere.

Maki stopped. She observed him for a few seconds, then lowered her gaze. 

Then she looked back at Panda.

“Fine. But he cooks for himself.”

“Perfect!” he replied, satisfied, then added with a sly grin, “Maybe if he survives the weekend with you, I’ll even have his name engraved on the doorbell.”

Toge chuckled mercilessly.

Maki shot both of them a sharp look.

“Do you need my permission to adopt him, too?”

She grabbed her soda and left the kitchen without another word.

A little later, she paused in the hallway, soda in hand. The bubbles tickled her lips, but they couldn’t chase away the insistent thought buzzing in her head.

One whole weekend alone with Yuta. 

Perfect. Absolutely perfect. 

Not awkward at all, no.

They hadn’t actually planned to meet that Friday. Not a “real” date, fine—but it would have been a step forward.

A moment just for the two of them, without roommates, Nobara, Takumi, or anyone else.

And yet, Yuta seemed to have forgotten.

Maybe he didn’t care. Maybe he’d only said yes out of courtesy.

Now Maki felt too uneasy even to ask.

There was only one strategy: survive those two days. Just. Two. Days.

She took a deep breath, letting the cool air fill her lungs, trying to calm the racing of her heart.

Then she slowly turned toward the living room.

Yuta was still curled under that blanket, pulled up nearly to his nose.

The laptop screen played another video on autoplay, while his vacant eyes stared at nothing, motionless like a statue.

Maki exhaled—a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of all the silence.

With one last, lingering look, she turned and walked toward her room, her steps heavier than usual.

⸻ ✧ ⸻

Friday had finally arrived. Panda had left early, as planned, while Toge would be heading out in the early afternoon.

At home, however, the atmosphere was stagnant. Frozen.

As if even time itself had gotten bored and decided not to move.

And Yuta… of course, he wasn’t moving from that cursed couch.

Maki, on the other hand, had had a day to remember: she’d forgotten her umbrella and gotten soaked both on the way there and back. Naturally, it had started drizzling just when she was almost home, for the finishing touch.

Perfect. Drenched, exhausted, and trapped with Yuta doing his best impression of a houseplant.

What a shit day.

When she walked in, he was still in exactly the same position: curled up under the blanket, eyes glued to his phone as if trying to swallow every thought.

She sighed. Part of her just wanted a hot bath, a slice of cake, and a few hours of total relaxation.

But then Panda’s words came to mind, how Yuta seemed lost, the weight of failure perhaps keeping him stuck.

After she closed the door behind her, kicked off her shoes, and hung her jacket with careless ease.

She checked her watch.

Okay, she still had time.

Without thinking too much, she sat down next to him, propping a pillow behind her back and grabbing the remote.

“Okay, might as well try something light,” she murmured, more to herself than to Yuta, pressing the TV button. On the screen appeared the melodramatic opening of a Korean soap: dazzling lights, tormented glances, endless crying.

Yuta glanced up from his phone, already suspecting that this would be a surreal session.

“What… are you watching?” he muttered, his voice muffled and unenthusiastic.

“Don’t be annoying,” Maki replied, winking and pointing the remote at him. “It’s… therapeutic. Trust me.”

The drama was so over-the-top it was almost comical: fake tears streaming too quickly, heart-wrenching music at every line, actors delivering dialogue like they’d had ten espressions too many.

At first, Yuta remained silent, with his usual vacant expression. But gradually, his gaze brightened.

He made a small grimace, then a more genuine smile, and finally let out a stifled laugh when the male lead made a face so ridiculous it looked like a living meme.

Maki watched, amused.

“See? You’re relaxing. Even if you don’t want to admit it.”

“It’s not my fault that guy looks like a roast chicken with eyes,” Yuta replied, and the genuine smile that accompanied it made her feel warm inside.

They continued watching: the female lead, in a fluorescent dress, kept getting lost in the sprawling mansion, tripping over imaginary rugs.

“You know, I thought that movie the other day was a one-time thing. Didn’t think you’d be into this kind of stuff.”

Maki raised an eyebrow.

“Well… someone has to survive your sad-face expressions.”

He smiled, shaking his head.

Almost thirty minutes passed like this: she sarcastically commented on every soap exaggeration, he laughed along, and gradually the couch stopped feeling like a prison.

From time to time, Yuta lifted the blanket slightly to sip water or clumsily imitate an actor, and Maki couldn’t help but watch, shaking her head, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

After yet another joke, Yuta’s hand slipped by accident and brushed against Maki’s, resting at the center of the couch.

Panic.

He froze instantly, as if he’d touched something forbidden, then jerked his hand back.

She said nothing. Just a quick sideways glance, a flicker of something in her eyes, before settling back comfortably, leaving her hand exactly where it was.

Yuta mirrored her, but the air between them had changed—the easy laughter from before now replaced by a heavy, expectant silence, where even the TV’s noise felt distant.

Their eyes met occasionally, fleeting and tense, as if neither dared to betray what they were feeling.

Yuta noticed Maki hadn’t moved her hand; it stayed in the center, patient, almost inviting. 

Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe not.

His heart hammered as, on a sudden impulse, he edged his hand closer again.

Fingers tentative, slow, glancing at Maki for any sign—ready to pull away at the first flicker of discomfort.

When their hands touched again, Yuta held his breath. This time he didn’t pull away. He inhaled sharply, letting his fingers linger lightly, hesitantly, over hers.

Maki didn’t move. She didn’t pull back. She kept her gaze on the screen, outwardly calm, yet when Yuta was about to retreat once more, he felt it—a delicate, unmistakable pressure: her fingers pressing against his.

His chest jumped. He wanted to speak, to shatter the tension humming in the air, but he knew that even a word might break the fragile magic of the moment.

So they stayed there, hands meeting in secret at the center of the couch, brushing, seeking, tentative touches that felt impossibly intimate.

Fragile, yes—but charged, electric, a secret that belonged only to the two of them.

When the episode ended, Yuta exhaled and stretched, the movement almost exaggerated, as if to cover up the lingering embarrassment from before. The couch creaked under him.

“Okay… I admit it was funny, but only because I see you smiling every two minutes.”

The comment caught Maki off guard. A sudden warmth rose to her cheeks, her hands fidgeting nervously on the couch, trying to find something to hold onto as her mind raced with thoughts she couldn’t dismiss.

Then she looked at him. Yuta didn’t seem to have said it with malice. And maybe that was the problem: he was always so sincere, so spontaneous, and that small genuine smile pierced her heart more than any rehearsed words could.

“Calm down…” she thought, gripping the pillow lightly, trying to refocus on reason. Yet, despite her efforts, a small smile escaped her lips.

“So… I work as… an antidote to sadness?”

He nodded, still with that little smile.

“Maybe.”

There was silence again. To escape the awkwardness, Maki absentmindedly turned back to the TV, which was now airing a ridiculous toothpaste commercial. 

Yuta watched her, that slight smirk still on his face.

Then he leaned forward slightly, addressing her.

“What do you feel like doing?”

Maki turned her face toward him. She didn’t say anything, but the gesture alone made him blush up to his ears.

“I-I mean… if you don’t already have other plans.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Actually… on Fridays I usually like to order something.”

Yuta’s eyes widened, and he slapped a hand against his forehead.

“Today is Friday!”

“Yeah.”

A flash of panic crossed his face.

“I was supposed to take you to the bookstore!”

She didn’t comment, just shrugged again.

“I-I’m sorry, Maki. I completely forgot when—”

“It doesn’t matter,” she interrupted, naturally, shrugging once more. “It wasn’t anything important.”

Yuta stared at her for a long moment, a little taken aback by that nonchalance that smelled faintly of feigned indifference.

The nothing important hit his stomach like a weight. He feared there might be resentment behind it, even though Maki never truly showed when something hurt her.

And yet, that outing hadn’t been random: she had been the one to suggest it first, and it was supposed to be just the two of them.

The idea that she now considered it a trivial detail made him feel even guiltier, as if he had disappointed her without even realizing it.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“It’s fine.”

That was her curt reply, but Yuta lunged forward anyway, improvising with the fervor of someone who doesn’t accept defeat.

“I can cook something for you!”

Maki stared at him, surprised. For a moment, she didn’t know whether he was serious.

Yuta immediately took a step back, hand to his cheek, looking embarrassed.

“I mean… if you want.”

“I don’t know…” Maki crossed her arms, glancing toward the kitchen. “Uber Eats is faster.”

Yuta swallowed, following her gaze toward the kitchen, then back to her with a spark of stubbornness in his eyes.

“But we have everything we need here.”

Maki raised an eyebrow, as if testing just how far he was willing to go with that confidence.

“I like cooking, you know…” he stammered, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “It kind of relaxes me. And then, since there’s some leftovers in the fridge…”

He trailed off, almost awaiting judgment.

She scrutinized him for a moment longer, unsure whether to take him seriously or shut him down immediately. Then, with a barely perceptible sigh, she nodded.

“Alright.”

Before Yuta could celebrate or add anything, Maki stepped closer, pointing a finger at him.

“But nothing too green. And don’t you dare make one of your zen broths.”

Yuta swallowed audibly, caught red-handed, then let a disarming smile slip across his lips.

“Don’t worry.”