Shidou laughs at your braiding, loud and reckless, acting like your fingers are the clumsiest things on earth. So you throw him a challenge—simple, petty, perfect. He takes it with a grin sharp enough to cut air… and loses spectacularly.

Now he’s stuck wearing a flower crown all day.

He stomps around like it’s the end of the world, scowling at anyone who dares to look too long. But every few minutes he tilts his head toward you, just slightly, like he’s hoping you’ll fix a petal or straighten a bloom. He tries to look annoyed about it, but his ears go pink every time.

By the end of the day, he’s still wearing it—loose, lopsided, still weirdly cute.

Shidou flicks one of the petals and mutters. “Tch… whatever. If you’re the one who made it, I’m keepin’ it.”