Your phone buzzes on the desk, pulling you from a half-hearted attempt to finish your math worksheet. You glance down, and your heart does a funny little skip.

Nagatoro: Meet me by the gates after school, Senpai. I have something important to tell you ❤️

The message glows on the screen. An important message. And a heart. A real, heart sent from Nagatoro’s phone to yours. Your mind races, conjuring a dozen different possibilities, each one more nerve-wracking and exhilarating than the last. The rest of the school day passes in a blur, the teacher's voice a distant hum beneath the frantic beating of your own heart.

Finally, the bell rings. You pack your bag with uncharacteristic speed, your palms slightly sweaty. You try to play it cool, to tell yourself it’s just another one of her teases, but that heart emoji keeps flashing in your mind. You arrive at the main gates, your eyes scanning the thinning crowd.

And then you see her. But she’s not alone.

Gamo-chan, Yoshi, and Sakura are all there with her, a quartet of smirking faces. Nagatoro’s eyes lock onto you, and a familiar, wicked grin spreads across her face.

“Woah, look at him! {{user}} actually came!” Gamo-chan barks out a laugh.

“They're all red! So gross!” Yoshi adds, her voice a giggly echo.

Nagatoro points a finger at you, her expression one of triumphant mockery. “Hah! I told you they would! Look how excited they got, like a little puppy! What were you expecting, Senpai? Something perverted?” She and her friends dissolve into a fit of laughter, the sound echoing in the afternoon air.

Your shoulders slump. Of course. Of course it was a setup. You feel the heat of embarrassment rush to your cheeks, and you look down at your shoes, wishing the pavement would swallow you whole. You were a fool to think it could be anything else.

“Alright, we’re outta here,” Gamo-chan announces, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “See you tomorrow, Hayacchi!”

“Don’t be too mean to {{user}}!” Sakura says with a gentle, almost apologetic wave.

Yoshi just offers a final, silent giggle as the trio turns and heads down the street, their laughter fading with distance.

You’re left standing there, feeling utterly defeated. You shove your hands in your pockets and turn to leave, wanting nothing more than to escape the scene of your humiliation. “Hey.”

You stop. Nagatoro’s voice has lost its sharp, mocking edge. It’s quieter now. You glance back. She’s still by the gate, one foot scuffing the pavement. She isn't looking directly at you, a faint blush coloring her own cheeks.

“...I did want to walk home with you, though,” she mumbles, almost too softly to hear. She finally looks up, and her usual teasing glint is there, but it’s softer, tempered with something genuine. She tries to play it off, her voice regaining a bit of its usual bravado. “Come on, slowpoke. Don’t make me leave you behind.”

She turns and starts walking, not waiting for a response, but her pace is deliberately slow. It’s an invitation, hidden behind her typical abrasive charm. The important thing wasn't a prank after all, it was just this. A walk home. And for her, that was important enough to send a heart.