Chapter 9: Whispers After Midnight

The library was quiet again. The chaos of the pillow war had faded, leaving behind a battlefield of feathers, open books, and one overworked tutor trying not to die of embarrassment.

Yuuto Kanda sat up slowly, rubbing his neck. Across the floor, Akari was snoring softly, sprawled over her futon like she’d wrestled a bear. Rika had fallen asleep in her chair, glasses tilted, book still open in her lap. And Mizuki—delicate, calm Mizuki—was still awake.

She sat beside the dim lamp, hugging her knees, eyes glimmering faintly in the soft light.

Yuuto blinked. “You’re still up?”

Mizuki smiled faintly. “Mm. I can’t sleep. My heart’s still beating fast… from all that.”

“All that” could’ve meant the pillow fight—or the time she fell into his lap. Yuuto decided not to ask.

He got up quietly and sat beside her, careful not to wake the others.

The night was cold, but the glow from the lamp and the faint scent of paper made everything feel strangely peaceful.

Mizuki spoke first.

> “Kanda-kun… you’re really patient. With us, I mean.”

Yuuto chuckled awkwardly. “Patient? More like one nervous breakdown away from quitting.”

She laughed softly—barely a giggle, but enough to make him smile.

Then her voice turned gentle again.

> “Still… you didn’t get angry even once today. You just helped us, even when we were being… silly.”

Yuuto scratched his cheek, trying to ignore how close she was.

> “Well, that’s kind of my job. Besides, you three aren’t that bad. Just… chaotic.”

She leaned forward a little, eyes softening.

> “I used to study alone, you know. I thought working with others would just slow me down.”

Yuuto turned to her. “And now?”

Her eyes shimmered under the light. “Now it feels… warm.”

She paused, then added with a shy laugh, “And confusing.”

Yuuto felt something stir in his chest. Her voice carried a quiet honesty that made it hard to look away.

> “Confusing how?” he asked.

Mizuki hesitated, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Like… even when I mess up, even when we fight or laugh too much… I don’t hate it. I don’t want it to end.”

There was a silence between them—comfortable, but heavy with unspoken meaning. Yuuto looked at her, really looked this time, and realized how delicate she looked under the lamp glow. Her eyes were big and thoughtful, her lips soft, her expression innocent but uncertain.

> “You know,” he said quietly, “that’s what I like about you three.”

Her cheeks tinted pink. “L-like?”

Yuuto’s eyes widened. “I mean! That’s what I like about tutoring you! You all make things… interesting!”

Mizuki pressed her fingers together, a small smile creeping back. “You’re bad at talking sometimes.”

> “You have no idea,” he sighed.

They both laughed quietly—careful not to wake the others.

The sound echoed softly among the shelves, blending with the faint hum of the night outside.

---

Then the wind shifted.

A soft whoosh swept through the window, and the lamp flickered. The curtain fluttered open, revealing the pale moonlight spilling across Mizuki’s face.

Yuuto froze. His breath caught in his throat.

Under the moonlight, she looked almost unreal—like something out of a poem she’d write.

Her eyes met his, and for a moment neither of them moved.

> “Kanda-kun…” she whispered.

Her voice was so quiet it was barely sound—more like a feeling that brushed against him.

He could feel his heart pounding in his ears.

> “Y-yeah?”

> “Thank you… for being here.”

He swallowed, his throat dry. “Anytime, Koyanagi-san.”

> “Mizuki,” she corrected softly.

“Call me Mizuki when it’s just us.”

That was it. His brain short-circuited again.

“M-Mizuki…?”

Her name fell from his lips awkwardly, but she smiled anyway.

And that smile—it hit harder than any test grade or pillow to the face.

She turned slightly, resting her head on her knees again, facing the moon.

> “You know… I think Rika-chan likes you.”

Yuuto blinked. “Eh!?”

> “And Akari too. She doesn’t know it yet, but she acts… different around you.”

He groaned. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

Mizuki shook her head. “No. I’m just… saying what I see.”

He sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “Great. So all three of you are gonna end up failing your exams and my sanity test.”

Mizuki giggled softly.

> “Then you’ll have to keep tutoring us forever.”

He turned to look at her again. Her eyes were half-closed, her smile drowsy now.

“Forever” shouldn’t have sounded that dangerous—but it did.

---

A faint rustle came from behind the bookshelf.

Unnoticed by either of them, Rika Saginomiya peeked through the gap between the shelves. Her glasses reflected the moonlight, hiding her eyes—but her hand was gripping the edge tightly.

She had woken up earlier, heard their voices, and followed the sound.

When she saw Mizuki resting her head against Yuuto’s shoulder, something small but sharp twisted in her chest.

What’s wrong with me? she thought. It’s not like I care.

But her heart said otherwise.

She turned away quietly, walking back to her chair before they noticed her.

---

Meanwhile, Mizuki’s voice was growing faint.

> “Kanda-kun… promise you won’t give up on us. No matter what.”

Yuuto smiled, brushing a stray feather off her hair.

> “That’s one promise I can keep.”

She didn’t answer. Her breathing softened; she had fallen asleep sitting beside him.

For a while, Yuuto just sat there, staring at the quiet night. Then he sighed and leaned back, watching the moon.

> “What kind of study camp is this…?” he muttered.

From the far side of the room, Akari murmured in her sleep, “Go team… gooo… Yuuto…”

He smiled helplessly. “Yeah. Go team.”

Outside, the moon drifted higher, painting the shelves in silver. Inside, the tutor and his students slept, tangled in dreams of laughter, chaos, and the beginnings of something neither could yet name.