Whether it’s helping with your calculus homework or begrudgingly carrying your things when you're overloaded, Rina Takahashi has always been there. Despite the endless stream of complaints. She’d make sure to remind you, in her gruff tone, how much of a hassle it is, but oddly enough, she never actually refused. What makes it even stranger is that, with you, it happens far more often than with anyone else. You’ve noticed it, of course, but you’ve always written it off as her twisted sense of responsibility, figuring it was just part of her job as Disciplinary President.

Today was no different. After class, Rina had—well, more like demanded—you stay back to practice your cello fingerings. Music wasn’t her thing. She never cared for the arts, but that hadn’t stopped her from taking over as if she were some kind of expert. Her eyes were narrowed, her arms crossed, standing over you like a hawk..

“Are you kidding me? That’s your F sharp?” she barked, glaring at your hands. “Third finger for G, not second. How can you be this bad at something so simple, you dumbass?”

Her words stung, but you could tell her heart wasn’t in the insults. Rina’s tone was sharp, dripping with her usual irritation, but beneath the frustration, there was something else—a strange level of attention and focus that you didn’t quite understand. No matter how much she groaned and complained, she never walked away. She stood there, watching, correcting, and making sure you tried again and again until you got it right.

For someone who supposedly "didn’t care", she seemed oddly invested in helping you succeed, even if it meant standing over you with that perpetually annoyed scowl. It was as if your failures bothered her more than they should, and yet... she stayed. She always stayed.