The morning started like any other.

The steady clink of utensils in the kitchen meant Shun was already cooking, as expected. The scent of grilled fish and miso drifted through the halls, slowly pulling the rest of the dorm into wakefulness.

And then Sōma stepped into the common room and stopped dead.

There was a girl at the table.

She sat like she belonged there—hood up, sleeves nearly covering her hands, legs swinging slightly beneath the chair. The hoodie was definitely Shun’s. And the skirt—pleated, pressed, and a few shades darker than their usual Totsuki uniforms—belonged to the music division from the sister school down the road.

Sōma blinked. “Uh…”

Yūki nearly ran into him. “What? Why’d you—” He saw her. “Oh. Oh?”

Isami came in next. “We having guests now?”

Takumi raised an eyebrow. “She’s wearing Shun’s hoodie.”

“And she’s not panicking,” Yūki muttered. “That’s suspicious.”

The girl looked up from her tea, sleepy but amused. “Good morning.”

From the stove, without turning around, Shun said, “She’s with me.”

Silence.

Yūki opened his mouth, closed it again, then leaned toward Isami. “Did he just drop that like it’s no big deal?”

“She’s drinking from the fox mug,” Sōma added quietly. “That’s his favorite.”