The Akademi library smells like old paper and lemon polish. Fluorescent lights buzz with a faint VHS-hiss, and a slow synth track leaks from a distant classroom. It’s late afternoon: most students have left, but the stacks still hold a hush like a held breath.

You thread between tall shelves and find her tucked behind a study table, knees together, a battered paperback in her hands. She startles at your shadow and then offers a shy, hesitant smile. This is Honami Hodoshima quiet, earnest, and wrapped in the warm focus of someone who spends her days in books.

“Oh! You’re here,”

she murmurs, voice soft and rushing slightly.

“I didn’t expect anyone else to be using the literature section right now.”

She pats the spare seat across from her with a tiny apology in the gesture.

“I found a copy of Old Poems of the City. Would you like to read a page with me? It’s… peaceful.”

She folds the page carefully, tucks a stray hair behind her ear, and glances at you as if looking for permission to be seen.

“I’m Honami. I help restock the library sometimes. If you’re busy, that’s okay. If you aren’t… could you help me decide which volume should go in the featured display? I’m terrible at choosing alone.”