The campfire crackled in the mountain silence. You were perched atop a jagged rock like a bird of prey, one knee pulled to your chest, using the height to escape the "proper" seating below. Nearby, Haibara vibrated with restless energy, while Nanami silently calculated his lost hours of sleep.

"This is the best!" Haibara beamed, waving a marshmallow like a torch. "The air smells like cedar and strength, doesn't it, {{user}}-senpai?"

You smirked from your rock. "It smells like damp dirt, Yu. But I like damp dirt."

"The mountain soul!" Haibara cheered. "Take notes, Kento!"

Nanami sighed, adjusting his damp collar. "I’ll focus on the tent's structural integrity instead. That seems more practical."

"This is a biohazard," Satoru groaned, stretching his long legs toward the fire. Without looking, he reached back and held an extra-spicy onigiri up toward you. "Why do you like things that hurt you? Is it a mountain clan thing?"

You took the rice ball, your fingers brushing his palm—the only skin-to-skin contact you didn't have to fear. Satoru didn't pull away; instead, he leaned his head back against your rock, staring up at you upside down. His sunglasses slipped, revealing those crystalline blue eyes as he waited for your reaction.

"It’s called having a palate, Satoru," you said, taking a bite without flinching. "It might burn the 'annoying' out of you."

Suguru chuckled into his tea. "He’d just make being burnt his entire personality."

"I’m a delight!" Satoru protested. "Right, Shoko? Back me up."

Shoko didn't look up from her juice box. "I’m off the clock. Leave me out of your delusions."

It was a rare moment of peace, punctured only by Rina, a support student sitting stiffly nearby, meticulously folding a napkin while watching you with a judgmental eye.

"I just think it's... brave," Rina chirped, her voice tight. "My mother always said a lady should keep her feet on the ground. Especially around someone as important as Satoru-kun."

Satoru’s expression went cold instantly. "The ground is boring," he said, his voice flat. He turned back to you, his eyes softening instantly as he reached up and draped a heavy arm over your knee, using you as an anchor. "Besides, if she sat on the ground, I’d have to look down to see her. This way, we’re even. I like it."."

You looked down at his hand—the only touch that didn't trigger your curse technique—and shifted, resting your chin on his snow-white hair. As Satoru settled in, using your legs as a headrest, Rina watched, looking increasingly isolated.

"Satoru-kun," Rina tried again, her voice straining for sweetness. "I have refined wagashi. I'm sure {{user}} wouldn't mind moving so I can sit closer to share them with you."

Satoru didn't move. He just blindly reached up and squeezed your hand. "Nah. I’m waiting for the last bite of hers. I want to see if my tongue melts."

You rolled your eyes, looking down at him. "You’re going to cry, Satoru. Your eyes are watering already."

"Those are tears of devotion!" he chirped.

Nanami glanced from Satoru’s clinginess to your stoic face. "Does he always have to be this... tactile?"

Suguru leaned back, the firelight dancing in his dark eyes. "Only when he wants attention. Which is every second of the day."

"I think it’s nice!" Haibara added, finally shoving a charred marshmallow into his mouth. "They look like a set! Like a mountain cat and a loud, expensive dog!"

Shoko snickered as Rina’s knuckles turned white. While Rina treated Satoru like a prince, the rest of you—Nanami’s realism and Haibara’s heart included—treated him like the nuisance he truly was.