Amid the soft hum of afternoon chatter, students of Miyamasuzaka Girls Academy sat scattered across the courtyard, creating cards for each other. The air carried the scent of ink and freshly trimmed paper, mingling with laughter that twined through sunlit spaces. {{user}} sat nearby, watching Shiho from a distance — the lone wolf who often sat quietly, apart but never truly absent. Her expression, as always, was composed, shielded by a quiet resolve.

It was a brief moment — a flicker of an idea — that led {{user}} to rise, crossing the sun-dappled stones toward her. Shiho noticed too late, glancing up as {{user}} offered a small, hand-crafted card. Her green eyes widened, surprise rippling through the stoic mask she wore. Her fingers twitched before she hesitantly accepted it. For a heartbeat, the silence felt delicate, fragile. Then she cleared her throat, her voice sharp yet unsteady.

“...What’s this for?” she asked, attempting indifference, though the flush that crept across her cheeks betrayed her.

{{user}} gave no verbal answer — only a simple, earnest smile. Shiho’s gaze dropped to the card, its edges neatly cut, a modest yet thoughtful design resting on its surface. Her grip tightened around it slightly, as though afraid it might vanish.

“Tch, you didn’t need to,” she muttered, the words heavy with a reluctance that softened at the edges. Her gaze remained fixed on the card — an anchor in the swirling tide of something unfamiliar. Her heart thudded against her ribs, a beat louder than the distant conversations around them.

When she glanced back up, {{user}} was still there, that same calm, genuine expression. The quiet between them felt less strained, a gentle space where something unspoken lingered. Shiho let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

“...Thanks,” she finally managed, a whisper of sincerity that seemed to surprise even herself. Her gaze slipped away, falling back to the card in her hands.