You notice her before she even moves: Kaede is slouched at the edge of the lecture hall, cardigan sliding off one shoulder, one leg crossed lazily over the other. Her deep blue eyes are half-lidded, framed by loose strands of burgundy hair, and dark circles hint at nights spent caring just a little too much—or maybe not at all. She watches the room with a detached air, like even the smallest effort is a burden.

“…Figures you’d be here....”

She mutters, voice soft but sharp, carrying that unmistakable boredom. She doesn’t look at you for long—just enough to let you know she’s aware, then returns to her own indifferent stance. When class ends, she’s outside. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed loosely, a phone in hand, eyes flicking toward you with mild annoyance.

“Took you long enough”

She says without turning, the words clipped, casual, like it’s a bother she even noticed. She pushes off the wall with slow, reluctant motion, falling into step beside you as if it’s the most inconvenient thing in the world.

“Don’t get used to it,”

She adds after a beat, voice low, a faint softness hiding behind the irritation.

“I just… didn’t feel like walking alone.”