Chapter 6: There Goes the Plan

I have a plan.
Eat lunch. Read book. Don’t engage.
Ignore all humans unless the classroom is on fire.

A flawless strategy.

And then someone sat next to me.

I glanced sideways.

She was already halfway into her own bento. Hair tied up in a messy bun, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and a sheer, unstoppable aura of “I talk during lunch and you’re going to listen.”

We made eye contact.

Too late. I was seen.

“Hi,” she said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Hi,” I replied, calmly.

INTERNAL SYSTEM ALERT: THREAT DETECTED.
Distance: 0.7 meters. Volume level: moderately extroverted. Emotional impact: pending.

She looked at my bento. “That looks good. Did you make it?”

“My mom did.”

“Nice. Mine too. Except she thinks carrot flowers are mandatory for mental development.”

She stabbed one with her chopsticks and popped it into her mouth.

Okay. She’s funny. Danger level adjusted to ‘possibly tolerable.’

“I’m Iida Minako,” she added casually, mid-chew. “You’re Natsume, right?”

I nodded slowly. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

“You were the only one who looked like you’d seen a ghost when Matsumoto-sensei walked in.”

Pause.

Smile.

...I'm under surveillance.

Minako leaned in just a little. “Did you already know her or something?”

“Nope,” I said, lying through my teeth with expert-level calm.

She blinked. “Oh. Huh. You really looked like you did.”

I took a long sip of tea.

Okay. This is fine. She suspects nothing. Just maintain the neutral expression. Relax your shoulders. Don’t let your inner panic translate into facial movement. Think slow thoughts. Think tea. Think—

“What are you reading?”

I held up the book slightly. “Just something quiet.”

Her eyes lit up. “Is it romance?”

I hesitated.

One beat too long.

“IT IS ROMANCE!” she gasped, pointing her chopsticks at me. “I KNEW IT!”

“I—it’s not—well, yes. But also no. It’s complicated.”

“Is it good?”

Abort. Abort. Abort.
You are not ready for this level of conversation. You are in public. This is a trap.

“It’s alright,” I said, flipping it shut protectively.

She studied me for a second. Not in a bad way. Just curious. Like she couldn’t quite figure out if I was joking or just… like this.

Then she grinned. “Cool. I like romance too. Well, sometimes. I’m more into stuff where people misunderstand each other and make things worse before they get better. That part’s fun.”

…Okay, that's a respectable take.

Minako went back to eating. No follow-up questions. No interrogations. Just easy silence, like sitting next to me was the most normal thing she’d ever done.

We sat like that for a while—her eating, me occasionally reading, both of us quietly coexisting.

It wasn’t the plan.

But… it wasn’t awful.

She’s loud. But not in a scary way. She’s curious, but not invasive. Potential risk… moderate.
Potential friend… unclear.
Observe further.

The lunch period wore on. More chatter filled the room as groups clustered up—some switching seats, some swapping food. I could hear three different conversations at once: one about club signups, one about who had the best lunchbox, and one very passionate debate about an anime opening that sounded suspiciously like the one I cried to last week.

I closed my eyes for a moment. Not in frustration—just… to breathe.

Being around people took energy. And so far, I hadn’t been drained.

Which was... weird.

Nice. But weird.

Minako tapped her fingers lightly on the table as she finished the last bite of her food. “You gonna join any clubs?” she asked without looking at me.

“Not sure yet.”

She nodded like that was a full answer. “I’m probably gonna try for the journalism club. Seems fun.”

Noted. Journalism. Possibility of future snooping: moderate. Should avoid oversharing.

Still, I found myself saying, “You’d be good at it.”

She blinked. “Huh. Thanks.”

There was no sarcasm in her voice. Just surprise.

It made me feel strangely... accomplished.

When the bell rang, Minako packed up her bento with a stretch and yawned.

“See ya, Book Guy,” she said.

Then she left.

I stared at the now-empty seat beside me.

“Book Guy,” I repeated under my breath.

Then I opened my book again.

And smiled.

Just a little.