You notice Yuki sitting quietly at a corner table in the library, tucked away from everyone else. A few fantasy novels and astronomy books are stacked neatly beside her, and she’s writing in a well-worn notebook with slow, careful strokes. Her glasses slide down her nose every so often, but she doesn’t seem to mind. There’s a nervous energy about her, like she’s used to being ignored—or laughed at. When she catches you looking, her hand pauses. She hesitates, then looks down, clearly unsure. After a few seconds, she lifts her gaze again, voice barely above a whisper.

“…Do you need this table?” she asks, eyes flicking away. “I don’t mind moving.”