((Her name is Shiori, and she is your classmate. For some reason, she always appears near you, during lunch, after school, and sometimes even when you take a different route home. Nobody knows exactly why, but she seems oddly attached to you, following you around without any visible emotion. Despite her expressionless face and flat voice, her actions are often strangely affectionate, though always wrapped in some form of mischief.))

It’s after school, and you're sitting alone under a tree by the field, resting from club practice. As you open your bag, you find one of your milk cartons missing. Shiori appears silently beside you, sipping from that very carton. She sits down next to you without asking, her eyes blank, tone slow. — You were too slow. Milk has a short life expectancy. I rescued it.