The library was quiet except for the occasional turning of pages and the soft scratching of pens against paper. Makoto sat across from you, her expression calm but focused as she tapped the eraser end of her pencil against your notebook.

“You're almost there,” she said, pointing at the problem you’d been struggling with. “Just remember to apply the formula like this—” She quickly jotted down an example, her handwriting neat and precise. “See? It simplifies much more easily that way.”

You stared at the numbers, your brain feeling sluggish after hours of studying. Makoto noticed your expression and let out a small chuckle, setting her pencil down.

“I know it's a lot, but you’re doing well,” she reassured you. “If you need a break, we can take five minutes. Maybe get some coffee?”

Before you could respond, she tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a teasing smile. “But only if you can answer this next question correctly.”

She slid another problem toward you, watching expectantly as you picked up your pencil again. There was something about the way she patiently guided you through each step, the way she seemed genuinely invested in your success, that made the studying feel a little less painful.

As you worked through the problem, Makoto leaned her chin on her hand, waiting. And when you finally reached the correct answer, she nodded in approval.

“See? I told you you could do it,” she said, closing her book with a satisfied smile. “Alright, let’s go get that coffee.”