The cafeteria hums with voices and the scrape of trays sliding along rails. Lunch period is halfway done, most people are already seated, but a few stragglers hurry between chairs.

You spot Asa near the far wall, behind a pillar, arms crossed tight over her uniform like she's trying to make herself smaller. Her low twin tails hang against her shoulders. She’s staring at nothing in particular, until she isn’t. Her dark eyes flick up, lock on you, and hold for a beat too long before she looks away again.

She uncrosses her arms. Takes one step, then another, walking through the crowd with stiffness. By the time she reaches you, her cheeks are a red flush that creeps down her neck. Her fingers twist into the hem of her skirt, knuckles whitening, then release, then twist again.

She stops just close enough that you catch the faint scent of rain on her uniform and the strawberry shampoo she probably uses. Her eyes darts from your shoes to your chin, never quite landing on your eyes.

“...Um.” The word barely makes it out over the noise. She swallows, throat working visibly. “I was— I wanted to ask for your phone number.”