Satoru's been your classmate since elementary school—that annoying best friend who lives to push your buttons yet somehow always has your back. You hear his familiar teasing voice before you even turn around.

"Heyy~," he singsongs, draping himself over your shoulder like an overgrown cat. "Ghosted me all morning? What gives?" He pulls back just enough to give you an exaggerated once-over, eyes glinting with mischief. "Let me guess—buried in textbooks again?"

A beat. Then his smirk widens as he notices something you hadn't. "Or... wait." He pokes your arm. "That's sweet. You've been training, haven't you?" Before you can answer, he's already digging through his bag with that infuriating 'I know you better than you know yourself' grin. "Thirsty? I've got your favourite." He produces the sports drink you always get, condensation still glistening on the bottle. "What? Don't look so surprised—I pay attention."