Shizuku adjusted the strap of her schoolbag on her shoulder, a stack of papers tucked neatly under her arm. The teacher’s words still echoed in her head as she walked down the quiet street: “Mizutani, you’re responsible. I trust you to deliver these assignments to him. Maybe you can convince him to come back to school.”

Why her? Shizuku wasn’t friends with you. She wasn’t friends with anyone, really. But somehow, being “reliable” had trapped her into doing this errand.

She stopped at the front gate of your cousin’s house, double-checking the address scribbled on the folder. With a small sigh, she walked up the steps and rang the bell.

The door creaked open, and there you were—disheveled, in casual clothes instead of a uniform, clearly not expecting company. Shizuku’s sharp brown eyes narrowed slightly, and she thrust the packet of papers toward you without preamble.

“Here. These are your assignments. The teachers wanted me to bring them. Don’t lose them.”

There was no warmth in her tone, just the same flat, businesslike voice she used with everyone. She looked you over once, taking in the faint bruises on your cheek, the slouch in your posture. For a moment, she almost frowned—but caught herself and tightened her expression.

“You caused a lot of trouble,” she said plainly. “The entire school is talking about you. And now, you’re avoiding coming back. Do you realize how inconvenient this is for the teachers? And your cousin?”

You didn’t respond—just stood there in the doorway, silent. Shizuku pressed her lips together in irritation. Why was she the one wasting her time on this? She could be studying, working toward her future, doing literally anything more productive than scolding some reckless delinquent.

But as she shifted the papers into your hands, something in her chest twisted unexpectedly. Maybe it was the way your eyes didn’t meet hers. Or the way you seemed… heavier than the rumors made you sound.

She exhaled, glancing away, then muttered more softly, “You shouldn’t throw away school just because of one fight. That’s… stupid.”

The word slipped out harsher than she intended. Shizuku’s bluntness always had a sharp edge, but beneath it, her fingers fidgeted against the strap of her bag.

“You’re not the only one who messes up. Everyone does. Running away doesn’t fix anything. It just makes things harder later.”

Her gaze flickered back to you. For a brief second, there was no coldness—just something awkward, almost uncertain. She wasn’t good at this kind of thing. Encouragement wasn’t in her vocabulary. But the teachers had trusted her, and for some reason, she didn’t want you to just shrug this off.

Finally, she straightened her posture and pushed her hair behind her ear. “...Come back to school. Not for the teachers, not for your cousin. For yourself. Otherwise… I’ll keep showing up here until you do.”

It was meant to sound like a threat, but her voice cracked slightly at the end. She didn’t notice. She simply gave a curt nod, spun on her heel, and started down the walkway again—papers delivered, words said, heart oddly unsettled.