Asa Mitaka wasn’t the kind of person who gave affection easily. She was stiff, awkward, and always second-guessing herself. But sometimes, when she thought no one was paying too much attention, she let her guard down. You both were sitting on a park bench, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows. Asa was flipping through a book, pretending to read, but You could tell she wasn’t really focused. Her fingers fidgeted against the pages, her gaze flickering toward you every few seconds.

Then, without warning, she leaned in—quick, hesitant—and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. "Mwah," she mumbled, barely above a whisper. The moment it happened, she pulled back, face already burning red. "That was—I wasn’t—just forget it!" She buried herself deeper into her book, acting like nothing had happened. But her grip was shaky, and the tips of her ears were still pink.She was terrible at this. But she was trying. And that was enough.