"So... wanna trade?"

It felt warmer than usual that morning, with the spring sunlight soaking into the walls of their classroom. Some students have been swapping schedules and exchanging contact IDs, some were laughing at inside jokes, while others were talking about breaktime plans—all are evidence of the several budding friendships within the first week of class.

Suzuki Hikari had always liked this time of day—when the room hadn’t quite settled, when it was still okay to talk and drift before the teacher came in.

As she set down her bag and slid into her seat, she instinctively glanced behind her. And there she is, as if lost in her own thoughts—Nakayama Yuzuki.

Today was no different from the previous days. Yuzuki sat with her back straight, both hands gently resting on top of her desk. Her brown hair fell just a bit below her shoulders, with curtain-like bangs, framing her face. There was a softness to her features—calm brown eyes, fair skin that seemed to blush easily, and lips that always offered a smile to anyone meeting her gaze.

Her eyes drifted back and forth from the window beside her, to the empty blackboard, then finally, to her classmates as if she’s observing everyone—or rather, everything. Just looking at her at this very moment, her presence screams composure. But Hikari had seen enough of her little misadventures to know better.

During the first day, Hikari noticed her walking into the wrong shoe locker row and pretended to tie her shoe until everyone left. The other day, she saw her enter the wrong classroom right after lunch. And yesterday, she saw her bumping into the doorframe when she tried to leave their classroom hastily. None of it was loud or attention-seeking—just small missteps that went unnoticed by most.

During break, the classroom suddenly got more lively. Desks scraping against the floor as some pushed them together in groups, laughter bouncing off on every wall, and a single pop as someone tore open a bag of bread bought from the school store.

Hikari turned around casually and leaned her chin against the backrest of her chair. “Hey, Nakayama-san.” she said with a soft smile. “Are you eating lunch here?”

Yuzuki blinked, startled, like pulled out from some distant world. “I… Yes….” She trailed off, as if wondering how to address her.

Hikari sensed her slight dilemma and responded, “Ahh sorry. I am Suzuki Hikari. Nice to meet you.” She found it a bit strange but then she thought, maybe Yuzuki is the type of person that is not good at memorizing people's names.

“...Nice to meet you too, Suzuki-san.” Yuzuki replied politely with a small nod.

“About lunch,” Hikari smiled.  “So… wanna trade?”

Yuzuki tilted her head, her voice tinged with slight confusion. “...Trade?”

Hikari grinned, pulled out her bentō box swiftly from her bag and slid it across her desk to Yuzuki’s front. “I’ve got the good stuff today. Crispy karaage—mom’s specialty! If you want, we can swap something from yours.”

Yuzuki hesitated at first. But after a moment, as if convinced this was some unspoken rule of high school socializing, she reached out for her bentō and carefully set it on her desk. Her fingers fumbled as she opened the lid.

When Hikari’s eyes set sight on its contents, she was genuinely amazed. “Nakayama-san, your’s is so neat!”

Everything inside Yuzuki’s lunch box was carefully arranged: rice topped with furikake, two pieces of perfectly rolled tamagoyaki, and—the thing that caught Hikari’s attention the most—little sausage octopuses, neatly lined up on the side, cutely staring at her.

“Did you make this yourself?” Hikari asked as she continued adoring the sausage octopuses, “Ahhh! These little ones. They’re very cute!”

Yuzuki gazed lower, her cheeks slightly tinged with pink. “I… just packed it normally.”

“Normally… you say.” There was a slight pause as Hikari looked at her own bentō. Hers, although surely tasty, still looked sloppy compared with that of Yuzuki’s, which looked like something out of those cooking magazines she often sees at some bookstores.

Hikari then chuckled.

When she glanced back at Yuzuki, she caught a fleeting look on her face—almost as if Yuzuki had just heard something she hadn’t in a long time.

But the moment passed so quickly that Hikari wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination. And so, she pushed the odd thought away and brushed the strange feeling aside.

Hikari leaned closer, chopsticks already in hand. “Nakayama-san… can I?” Her voice sounded like a little kid, shyly asking for something, “My karaage for those adorable sausages? Even just one is okay.”

Yuzuki, seemingly flustered, slowly nodded. “S…sure. Have some.”

“Yatta!” Hikari felt a spark of victory.

With playful eagerness, Hikari reached for one of Yuzuki’s sausages and plopped it on her bentō. Then, as carefully as she could, she shifted a piece of her karaage to Yuzuki’s box, wanting to keep its neat arrangement intact.

A small laugh slipped from Yuzuki’s mouth, something Hikari wasn’t expecting. “You can get another one… if you like.”

“Really?” Then, I’ll gladly accept the offer!” As Hikari’s chopsticks caught one of the other sausage octopuses, she cheerfully said. “Thank you, Nakayama-san!”

Yuzuki’s lips parted for a moment. Hikari noticed the sudden pause, as if her words were abruptly halted by something. Hikari followed her gaze which landed on her bentō. But for some reason, it felt to Hikari as though Yuzuki’s eyes were fixed on something far beyond it.

Before she could muster her own words, she heard Yuzuki, “Mm…” Her voice was almost drowned by the gleeful noise surrounding them. “Thank you, too… Suzuki san.”

What was that pause just now?

Although Hikari’s growing curiosity pushes her to want to know more about Yuzuki, she didn’t want to scare her off. And so, after that tiny exchange, they both ate in silence on their seats. And she tried not to look back too much.