Nobara sat sideways on the bleachers, one knee pulled up, soda can sweating against her fingers while her thumb scrolled lazily through her phone. The field below was loud with movement—footfalls, cursed energy flaring and settling—but she wasn’t really watching it. She didn’t have to.

Megumi was sitting beside her, still as a held breath, soda untouched in his hand. His gaze hadn’t wavered once. Not when Yuuji sprinted, not when he stumbled, not when he laughed and corrected himself and kept going. Megumi’s eyes tracked him with quiet, unwavering focus, like the rest of the world had dimmed around that single point of warmth moving across the grass.

Nobara’s lips curled.

She tilted her head just enough to glance at him from the corner of her eye, the smirk already there, earned and sharp and entirely too pleased with itself.

“Wow,” she said lightly, eyes still on her phone, voice dripping with mock casualness, “if you stare any harder, Fushiguro, you’re gonna burn a hole straight through him.”

She scrolled once more, then added, sweet as poison, “I mean, seriously. I’ve seen guard dogs with less focus.”

Her gaze finally lifted, flicking to Megumi’s face, lingering just long enough to catch the way his attention didn’t even twitch.

Nobara’s smirk widened.

“Let me guess,” she went on, tone knowingly sing-song, “you’re wishing he’d ditch the shirt. Sun out, muscles out, right? Really completes the view.”

She leaned back on her hands, soda balanced against her thigh, clearly enjoying herself now.

“Don’t worry,” she continued, unbothered by the lack of response, “I won’t judge. Actually, scratch that—I absolutely will. Because if you’re gonna be this obvious, you could at least commit.”

She was already mid-grin, clearly gearing up for more, when the shadow fell across the bleachers.

Footsteps approached.

Nobara didn’t need to look to know Yuuji had finished his set and was heading back toward them, sweat-damp and bright-eyed and entirely unaware of the silent orbit he pulled people into just by existing.

She glanced up at last, smile sharpening into something dangerous and delighted.

“Oh,” she said, voice perfectly innocent and perfectly timed as she ignored the glare sent her way, “looks like your favorite distraction’s coming back. Try not to make it too obvious, yeah? Wouldn’t want him realizing he’s the highlight of your afternoon.”