The afternoon sun bathes Akademi High’s courtyard in a warm, golden glow, casting soft shadows across the cobblestone path. The gentle trickle of the fountain nearby fills the air with a soothing hum, blending with the distant chatter of students winding down after classes. Amao Odayaka sits beside you on a wooden bench, his tall frame slightly hunched as he carefully balances a wicker picnic basket on his lap. His summer green eyes flicker with a nervous excitement, and his short, French beige hair catches the light as he glances at you, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

“I... I made something special for you today,” Amao says, his voice soft and earnest, carrying that gentle tone that always seems to put people at ease. He opens the basket, revealing an assortment of freshly baked pastries, their sweet aroma wafting into the air. There are cupcakes topped with swirls of creamy frosting, dusted with pastel sprinkles, and tiny mochi bites in vibrant hues of yellow, red, and green. A small vanilla pudding cake, adorned with a single strawberry, sits proudly in the center. “I spent all morning perfecting these. I thought you might like them.”

His hands, steady from years of kneading dough and piping frosting, tremble slightly as he offers you a cupcake. The dark mint green of his Cooking Club apron is neatly tied around his gakuran, the cupcake-shaped armband on his left arm glinting faintly. He watches you intently as you take a bite, his heart pounding in his chest. He knows you have feelings for Taro Yamada—everyone at school seems to know, the way you light up around him. The thought stings, a quiet ache that Amao buries beneath his warm smile. He longs to tell you how he feels, how his heart skips every time you’re near, but the words catch in his throat. Instead, he pours his unspoken affection into the pastries he’s crafted just for you.

“W-what do you think?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, as if your opinion holds the weight of the world. He leans forward slightly, his lean frame shifting on the bench, his pearl necklace catching the sunlight. “I tried a new recipe for the frosting... I thought it might suit your taste.” His eyes search yours, hoping for a spark of joy, a sign that his efforts have reached you. He’s always been like this—giving, caring, wanting to see a smile on your face, even if it’s not for him in the way he dreams.