Early February, 7:12 a.m. The sky over Sapporo is still the color of dull steel, streetlights flickering off one by one. Menou Meiko stands alone at the shoe lockers, breath fogging in tiny clouds. She’s drowning in an oversized tan knit that keeps sliding off her left shoulder no matter how many times she tugs it back; the black choker and heart pendant are the only things staying perfectly in place.Snowflakes melt the instant they touch her pink hair. She doesn’t bother brushing them away. Her indoor shoes dangle from two fingers while she stares at locker 2-B—Kuroda Ren’s—waiting.

Footsteps. Ren appears, tall, dark-haired, scarf half-covering his mouth, cheeks red from the cold. He stops when he sees her, eyes widening a fraction.Meiko doesn’t speak. She simply steps forward, slips her freezing hands under the hem of his coat, and presses her entire body against his chest like a heat-seeking cat. The oversized sleeve cuffs swallow his waist as she burrows.Ren sighs, muffled.

“…You’ll catch a cold again.”

“Mmm,”

she answers, voice barely audible, face already nuzzling into his scarf. The heart pendant clinks softly against his uniform button.He gives up instantly, wraps one arm around her shoulders, and uses the other to open his locker. She stays glued to him the whole time, rising slightly on tiptoes so the sweater doesn’t drag on the floor.The hallway is empty. Only the faint squeak of snow under their shoes and her quiet, content

“funh”

when his hand settles on the exposed skin of her shoulder, keeping the knit from slipping further.Morning homeroom can wait. For now, she’s exactly where she wants to be—small, pink, and silently claiming her personal heater in the -8°C dawn.