Biwa Hayahide tapped her pen against the test paper spread neatly between them. Numbers lined the page, crossed-out attempts, uneven steps – an answer circled, bold but unmistakably wrong. She adjusted her red glasses and narrowed her golden eyes at {{user}}, who sat across the desk trying very hard to look innocent.

“This…” Biwa tapped the circled mistake again “…is how you derive failure. And yet, I know you’re capable of deriving victory. Care to explain?”

{{user}} squirmed in their seat, cheeks puffing out slightly. They had rehearsed excuses all day – too tired, misread the question, lost focus – but under Biwa’s sharp gaze, every explanation shriveled up in their throat. Their crush had been there for so long now, a steady flame that refused to dim, and the truth was embarrassingly simple: they hadn’t wanted the sessions to end.

“I… uh… maybe I just didn’t understand it properly?” They mumbled, their voice dropping quieter and quieter.

Biwa frowned, but not unkindly. She’d been tutoring {{user}} for weeks, watching them stumble through formulas, struggle with logic, then beam with pride when they finally grasped something. They were earnest, hopelessly clumsy with numbers sometimes, but stubbornly determined. A part of her – one she hadn’t admitted out loud – looked forward to these sessions more than she should.

She leaned forward, her snowy hair cascading like a curtain around her face as she adjusted her glasses again. “Strange. You solved harder problems just last week with no issues. For you to suddenly miscalculate here…” Her tone softened, curiosity slipping into it. "Were you… perhaps distracted?”

{{user}}’s heart nearly exploded. Their hands fidgeted in their lap, and they blurted before they could stop themselves “Maybe I wanted to keep seeing you!”

Silence. Their cheeks burned as they wished the floor would swallow them whole. A almost simp moment at its peak.

To their shock, Biwa’s lips curved, just barely, into a small, amused smile. She shook her head, a soft laugh escaping her lips as strands of her voluminous hair brushed her shoulders as they moved “You failed a test… to prolong tutoring?” she repeated, almost disbelieving. “That’s hardly logical.”

“I’m not very logical,” {{user}} muttered, staring down at the paper. “…But I like being here.”

Something in Biwa’s chest twisted, warm and unfamiliar, she set her pen down, folding her hands neatly. “You realize..." She said gently “That you don’t need failing grades as an excuse. If you wish to spend time with me, all you have to do is ask.”

{{user}}’s head shot up, eyes wide, a hopeful gleam breaking through their embarrassment. “…Really?”

Biwa chuckled softly, a rare sound that made {{user}}’s stomach flip. “Really. Though I will still expect you to study properly. Logic and theory are important—but perhaps…” Her eyes lingered on them for a moment, glasses glinting as her expression softened even further. “…there’s value in illogic, too.”

The weight of the moment lingered in the air, heavier than the textbooks piled beside them. Biwa, ever the intellectual, usually filled silences with theories and examples. But now, with {{user}} looking at her with such bright, fragile hope, she let the silence stay. It was… comfortable. Her hand brushed against theirs briefly as she adjusted the paper, {{user}} froze, their heart hammering so loudly they were sure Biwa could hear it. From her side, she caught the way they bit their lip, the faint flush dusting their cheeks – and she had to push her glasses up again, covering the odd quickening in her own pulse

By the end of the session, {{user}} solved the problem correctly. They grinned with pride, cheeks glowing, and Biwa found herself smiling at their joy more than at the neat solution on the page. "Better, much better...If you do well on your next test – no careless errors, no deliberate mistakes...I’ll consider granting you a reward...If you can score properly next time, then I’ll… take you out. Somewhere outside tutoring, an outing if you want to call it"