Thursday morning.
Keon had never seen a classroom this quiet before first period.
Even Daiki wasn't cracking jokes. Kira was unusually silent, staring out the window like he was waiting for the apocalypse. Fuyu was the only one acting normal—which, in his case, meant emotionally unavailable.
Keon shuffled his notes.
"Stop stressing," Nova whispered beside him. "Worst case, someone bombs their part and I'll drag you out of the building."
"…That's not actually comforting."
They were scheduled fourth. Just enough time to overthink everything.
The group had spread out across the hallway benches to rehearse. Reina stood near the far wall, scrolling through her phone—but not actually reading anything. Her eyes kept drifting.
Keon noticed.
He walked over. "Hey. You okay?"
Reina didn't look up. "You always ask people that. Like some kind of hero complex."
"Just making sure."
"Why?" she snapped, finally looking at him. "Why do you care? About her. About this stupid group. You could've coasted. Let someone else crash and burn."
Keon blinked. "I don't want to watch people fall apart just because I can."
Reina scoffed. "You really mean that, huh?"
He gave her a half-smile. "What, you expecting me to say it's all an act?"
She went quiet.
Then said, almost like a confession, "Everyone I've ever worked with either wants something from me… or wants me to fail. And you just—help people. Like that's normal."
"It should be normal."
Reina looked at him again. Really looked.
"…You're weird," she muttered. But there was no bite in it.
Just something fragile.
Keon could tell she wanted to say more.
But then Mr. Tsuda's voice rang through the hallway:
"Group four! Let's go!"
The classroom lights dimmed.
The projector hummed to life.
Keon stood at the front of the room with Reina, Hina, Daiki, Kira, and Fuyu. All eyes were on them.
"Let's begin," Keon said calmly.
Slide one: check.
Reina stepped forward for the intro. Confident. Polished. Cold fire in her eyes.
Hina followed with the urban breakdown. Clear. Smart. Steady.
Daiki and Kira gave a chaotic but weirdly insightful overview of city zoning.
Fuyu summarized their conclusion in three sentences that somehow made everyone feel stupid.
Then it was Keon's turn.
He stepped forward—
—and the screen glitched.
Slide 12 didn't load.
It froze.
Keon clicked again. Nothing.
Mr. Tsuda raised an eyebrow.
Keon's heart skipped.
From the back of the room, Daiki mumbled, "Oh crap… did I accidentally—?"
"Don't finish that sentence," Kira hissed.
Reina stepped forward. "Give me the pointer."
Keon handed it to her.
Without missing a beat, Reina turned to the class. "As you can see, our conclusion slide is… shy. So I'll speak for it."
She launched into an impromptu wrap-up.
Flawless.
Funny. Sharp. Unshakable.
When she finished, she passed the pointer to Keon with a little smirk. "You're welcome."
The class applauded.
Even Mr. Tsuda nodded in approval.
"Well," he said, "either you're the most synchronized group this year, or you're all extremely lucky. Either way—good job."
After class, Keon stepped out into the hallway.
Reina was already waiting there.
He smiled. "Nice save."
She tossed her hair back. "I know."
Then, after a beat, softer: "Thanks… for earlier. Before we presented."
Keon blinked. "…You mean the part where you called me weird?"
She looked away, flustered. "Shut up."
He chuckled.
Then Reina added, without looking at him, "You made me want to try. I hate that."
Keon didn't say anything.
He didn't have to.
Later, when Hina passed him in the hall, she offered a quiet: "You were great today."
"So were you," Keon said.
She hesitated, then smiled. "Even she was."
Keon blinked. "Reina?"
Hina nodded. "Yeah. I think… she's trying."
"…That's scary."
"It's progress."