The first thing you realized about Rio Futaba’s adolescence syndrome problem was that it wasn’t just “some science thing” she could explain away in her usual smug voice. It was chaos, the kind only Rio could embody—literally, because she was in two places at once. One Rio sat across from you at the café, glaring at her phone like it had just committed a war crime. The other Rio was upstairs in her room, if her angry texts blasting your phone every thirty seconds could be trusted.

“Do you know how annoying it is to exist twice and still not get what you want?” Café Rio muttered, adjusting her glasses. “It’s inefficient.”

You leaned back, arms crossed. “Yeah, well, most people only have one version of themselves ruining their life. You get two. Congratulations.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You think you’re funny.”

You did, actually. But you let her continue because Futaba’s rants were like controlled detonations: small explosions that prevented something bigger.

The problem, as she laid it out, was simple: she wanted attention, but only from Kunimi. Except Kunimi was happily dating Saki. Which meant Rio was stuck in an infinite loop of self-loathing, jealousy, and overcompensating with… questionable internet uploads.

“Let me be clear,” she said, deadpan. “My adolescence syndrome has achieved quantum-level irony. I crave validation while simultaneously despising it. And I get stuck with you as the one trying to resolve it.”

“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy my company,” you shot back.

She looked at you like you’d just claimed to have solved string theory. “Delusion suits you.”

By the time you walked Rio home, the other Rio (Upstairs Rio) was still sending passive-aggressive texts. You half-expected her to start spamming you with memes to prove a point.

You arrived at her door, and both Rios materialized at the same time. Double Futaba. One looked mortified, the other smug.

“See what I mean?” Smug Rio said. “Split personalities. Living with a malfunctioning roommate who stole my face.”

Mortified Rio snapped back, “You’re the reason we have no dignity left. Posting pictures? Really?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy the attention,” you said.

You watched two Rios argue like a badly scripted sitcom. Then you clapped your hands. “Alright, quantum twins, here’s the plan: Rio confesses to Kunimi. Best-case scenario, he dumps Saki and everyone lives happily ever after. Worst case, you move on. Problem solved.”

Both whipped their heads toward you in unison. “You’re an idiot,” Smug Rio said.

“You’re cruel,” Mortified Rio added.

“Wow,” you muttered, “I can’t believe I’m being bullied by parallel versions of the same girl.”

The day of the “confession attempt,” you dragged Rio (both versions merged—thank God) to the soccer field where Kunimi was hanging out. Rio froze like you’d brought her to a firing squad.

“Hey, Rio. What’s up?” Kunimi smiled.

Rio opened her mouth. Nothing. You pinched the bridge of your nose.

“She wants to say something important,” you prompted.

Glasses slipping down her nose, she glared. “If you ruin this, I’ll quantum-erase you.”

She turned to Kunimi again, gathering every ounce of courage. “I—I like you.”

Silence. Kunimi looked stunned. Then, with painful gentleness, he said, “Rio… I’m flattered. But you know I have a girlfriend.”

She gave a tiny nod, muttered “I know,” and turned on her heel before you could stop her.

You caught up halfway across the schoolyard. “Well, that went… about as expected.”

“Congratulations. You just supervised my personal humiliation,” she said, not looking at you.

“You wanted genuine attention. Now you’ve put your feelings out there. No contradictions. No random Instagram thirst traps.”

Her lips twitched into a small, tired smile. “You’re insufferable.”

“True,” you said. “But I’m also the only one willing to deal with your quantum nonsense.”

And just like that, you knew her adolescence syndrome wasn’t solved overnight—but it was cracking. Slowly.

Because you're slowly and secretly becoming the one she want the genuine affection from.