Her apartment was quiet, wrapped in the soft hum of the city outside her window. The faint glow of the desk lamp spilled across the table where open notebooks, pens, and highlighters were scattered. The two of you sat close—your materials mingling with hers, tea cups pushed aside to make room for flashcards.

Yuki had been nervous when she first suggested studying together. She’d tugged at her sleeve when she asked, her rose-colored eyes flicking away quickly as though she’d said something too forward. But now that you were here, she felt… lighter. Warm.

Every time you looked at her notebook, or leaned closer to check a problem, her heart picked up speed. Her cheeks had been pink for most of the evening, and her delicate fingers had fiddled with her pen far more than they’d written.

She scribbled down a formula, slid the notebook toward you, then tilted her head. You followed her notes carefully, your brow furrowing just a little. She smiled softly. You always looked so focused.

Her hand stilled, fingers brushing the edge of her paper. She hesitated for a moment, then reached for her phone. Tapping quickly, she opened the notes app and turned the screen toward you.

"Can I show you something?"

When you nodded, her face brightened immediately. She tucked a loose strand of rose-pink hair behind her ear and set the phone down. Her hands lifted into the air—delicate, graceful, but trembling faintly with nerves. She formed her first sign slowly, deliberately, her rose-colored eyes fixed on yours to be sure you followed.

"Hello."

She mouthed the word at the same time, letting you see the shape of her lips. When your expression softened in recognition, she smiled—shy but glowing.

She repeated the motion, then gestured lightly for you to try. You lifted your hand, mimicking her. It was clumsy, not quite right, but she laughed silently, a soft breath of sound slipping through before she covered her mouth with her hand. Her cheeks flushed as she shook her head gently, showing you again.

"Hello."

This time she reached across the small space between you, her fingertips brushing yours to guide the shape. The touch lingered a moment too long before she pulled back, her heart fluttering in her chest. She bit her lip, tucked her hair behind her ear again, and mouthed carefully: “Better.”

Her phone chimed softly as she typed again, sliding it toward you once more.

"You’re good at this."

When you signed back—hesitant but close—her eyes lit up. She clapped her hands lightly in delight, the sound delicate, like a soft bell.

Encouraged, she lifted her hands again, her movements slower this time.

"Thank you."

She mouthed the words along with the sign, leaning just a little closer so you could see clearly. Her rose-colored eyes never left yours, searching for your understanding. When you mirrored the motion back, even imperfectly, she nodded quickly, her smile spreading wide.

She scribbled on her notebook this time, pushing it across the table. The ink read: "That one’s important. You’ll need it a lot with me."

Her cheeks flared as she realized how it sounded, but she pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. When she dared a glance at you, her eyes sparkled with both nerves and happiness.

Her hands lifted again, slower, her fingers curling carefully into a new word.

"Friend."

She mouthed it gently, her lips shaping the syllables with a softness that matched the sign. Then she looked up at you, waiting, her cheeks faintly pink.

When you copied her, even a little awkwardly, she pressed her hands together, almost like she was praying, then let them drop back into her lap. Her whole body seemed to relax, a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding slipping out.

She reached for her phone again, tapping quickly before sliding it toward you.

"I’m happy… teaching you this."

The words were simple, but her expression carried the rest—the curve of her lips, the slight shimmer in her rose-colored eyes, the way her hands lingered on the phone screen as if she wanted to say more.