“Who Cares?”

The doorbell rang, its cheerful chime echoing through the small house. Lily glanced up from the couch where she was curled up, her legs tucked under her, wearing her pajama set—soft and cozy, a tank top and blue shorts.

"I'll get it!" she called to her dad, who was sprawled on the other couch, half-asleep with the TV still murmuring in the background.

Grabbing a few bills from the kitchen counter where Kenjiro had left them, she made her way to the door, humming softly to herself. She unlocked it with a click and pulled it open, expecting to see a bright, chatty delivery person.

Instead, the figure standing before her was entirely unexpected.

He wore all black—a simple jacket zipped up to his neck and gloves that seemed a little too thick for the mild evening. A black motorcycle helmet concealed his face entirely, the dark visor reflecting the soft glow of the porch light. In his gloved hands, he held the insulated bag of pizza, silently extending it toward her.

For a moment, Lily hesitated, caught off guard by his appearance. "Oh, uh… hi" she said, her tone soft and a little unsure. She reached out to take the pizza, offering a polite smile even though she couldn't see his face. "Thanks for bringing this."

The man didn't respond. Not a word. Not even a nod. He just stood there, still as a statue, one hand outstretched expectantly.

Lily blinked, glancing between him and the bag. "Oh, right! One second" she said quickly, fumbling with the money in her hand. She counted out the exact amount for the pizza and then hesitated, adding a few extra bills for the tip.

"Here you go" she said, handing him the cash. "And, uh, keep the change."

He accepted it silently, his gloved fingers closing around the bills with an almost mechanical precision. Still no response. No "thank you," no acknowledgment. He simply turned, walking back toward the dark motorcycle parked by the curb, his movements calm and deliberate.

Lily watched him go, her brows furrowing slightly. There was something about the way he carried himself—something stiff, almost calculated. But she shook the thought away, chalking it up to his unusual outfit and the eerie stillness of the night.

Closing the door behind her, she carried the pizza back to the living room. "That was… weird," she murmured, more to herself than to her dad, who was already waking up at the smell of melted cheese.

"Who cares?" Kenjiro said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "Pizza's here. That's all that matters."

Lily shrugged, setting the box down on the table. "Yeah, I guess."

As the two of them dug into their dinner, the image of the silent, black-clad delivery driver lingered faintly in her mind. But it was fleeting, soon lost in the warmth of food and her dad's animated complaints about pineapple on pizza.

⊂ •͡˘∠•͡˘ ⊃

"Does it still hurt?" Koji asked quietly, his voice tinged with concern.

Lily glanced at him, startled out of her thoughts. "Oh," she said, offering a small smile. "Not really. It's just a little sore now."

Koji's brow furrowed, and he shifted in his seat. "The bruise is still there, isn't it?"

"A little," she admitted, lowering her hand to rest it on her lap. "But it's fine, really. Don't worry about it."

He frowned,his round cheeks puffing slightly in frustration. "I still feel bad, you know. If I hadn't—"

"Koji," she interrupted gently, her green eyes meeting his with a reassuring warmth. "It wasn't your fault. Okay?"

He hesitated, then nodded, though the guilt lingered in his expression. "Okay," he said softly, sitting back in his chair.

Her smile widened slightly, and she gave him a quick thumbs-up with her uninjured hand. "See? All good."

The faint hum of chatter filled the classroom as students shuffled around during the short break. Now, Koji was animatedly recounting his latest manga obsession, complete with exaggerated hand gestures, as Lily leaned her chin on her hand, laughing softly at his antics.

"I'm telling you, Lily," Koji said, his eyes sparkling with excitement, "if you don't read Bento Battle Royale, you're seriously missing out. It's got everything—epic food fights, heartfelt friendships, and—"

"—and probably a ridiculous amount of unnecessary drama," Lily teased, her lips curling into a playful smirk.

Koji gasped, clutching his chest as if wounded. "How dare you! Drama is what makes it a masterpiece! I—"

"Um… excuse me?"

Both of them turned toward the source of the voice. Standing a few feet away was a girl neither of them recognized. She was petite, her neatly cropped black hair framing her face with a straight fringe that just brushed her eyebrows. Her round, almond-shaped eyes had a quiet brightness to them, like someone who noticed more than they let on.

She looked nervous, clutching her notebook against her chest, but there was a certain spark in her gaze—an intelligent sharpness beneath the sweet demeanor.

"Yes?" Lily asked, tilting her head slightly.

The girl shifted on her feet, her lips curling into a shy but genuine smile. "Sorry to bother you," she said softly, her voice light but clear. "You're Aikawa-san, right?"

Lily blinked, surprised, but nodded. "That's me. How can I help?"

The girl let out a small breath, looking relieved. "I hope this isn't too forward, but… could I ask for your help with something? It's about English."

"English?" Lily repeated, her curiosity piqued.

"Yes," the girl said quickly, stepping a little closer. "I… well, I'm terrible at it. Like, really terrible. And I heard from someone that you're fluent, so I thought maybe…" She trailed off, looking at Lily hopefully.

"Oh!" Lily said, her face lighting up. "Of course, I'd be happy to help! What do you need?"

The girl's smile widened, and she ducked her head slightly. "Thank you so much! I just want to make sure I don't completely fail the next test. Our teacher's super strict, and I don't want to fall behind."

Koji, who had been silently observing the exchange, leaned closer to Lily and whispered, "Popular already, huh?"

Lily gave him a playful nudge before turning back to the girl. "Don't worry, we'll figure it out together. I know how stressful it can be. What's your name?"

"Oh! I'm Kaho," the girl said, bowing slightly. "Sakurai Kaho. I'm in Class 1-D."

"It's nice to meet you, Kaho-chan," Lily said warmly. "I'll do my best to help."

Kaho's cheeks turned pink at the honorific, and she shifted the notebook in her hands. "Really, thank you so much. I wasn't sure if you'd have time, but—"

"Of course I have time," Lily interrupted gently. "It's no trouble at all."

Kaho bit her lip, clearly touched by the response. "Um, is it okay if I get your number? That way I can text you if I have questions… only if it's okay!"

Lily smiled and nodded, pulling out her phone. "Sure, here. Let me add you."

As the two exchanged numbers, Koji watched the interaction with mild amusement, his manga complain now forgotten. "Wow" he said, crossing his arms dramatically. "You're practically a celebrity now. Helping first-years and everything."

"Don't be silly, Ko-ko." Lily said, rolling her eyes but smiling all the same. "I'm just being nice."

Kaho glanced between them, her lips twitching into a tiny smile. "You two seem really close," she said, her tone light but genuinely curious.

Koji puffed out his chest dramatically. "Well, of course. We're desk buddies. Partners in crime. The dynamic duo."

Lily laughed softly, shaking her head. "He's exaggerating. But yes, we're friends."

Kaho's smile widened. "That's nice," she said simply. "You seem… really kind, Aikawa-san."

The compliment caught Lily off guard, and she felt her cheeks flush faintly. "Oh, um… thank you. But you can call me Lily."

"Lily-senpai," Kaho said, testing the name on her tongue with a soft giggle. "It suits you."

Before Lily could respond, the bell rang, signaling the end of the break.

"I'll text you later!" Kaho said quickly, bowing once more before hurrying out of the classroom.

Koji leaned back in his chair, watching her retreating figure with a thoughtful expression. "She's sweet," he remarked, glancing at Lily. "You sure you're not secretly starting a fan club?"

Lily rolled her eyes, gathering her things for the next class. "Oh, please."

But as she settled back into her seat, she couldn't help but feel a warmth in her chest. It was nice, she thought, to feel like she belonged—even in the smallest, most unexpected ways.

(▰˘◡˘▰)

The secluded corner of the school courtyard was bathed in the soft glow of the afternoon sun. It was their spot—strategic, secluded, yet with a clear vantage point of the rest of the school grounds. A place where they could observe without being seen, command attention without inviting it.

Arata leaned against the brick wall, arms crossed, his sharp eyes following a group of students passing through the courtyard. His expression was calm, unreadable, but the faint flicker of irritation in his gaze hinted at his thinning patience. Tsubasa stood nearby, his posture relaxed but vigilant, as if he were always anticipating the next move. Rika sat on the edge of the bench, her legs crossed elegantly, tapping her polished nails against her knee as she spoke about something trivial. The hum of her voice was background noise to Arata, who remained largely indifferent.

Hayato, however, seemed uncharacteristically quiet. He leaned back against the railing, his golden hair catching the sunlight in a way that seemed almost deliberate. A cigarette dangled unlit between his fingers, purely for effect—it wasn't allowed on school grounds, but Hayato lived for the image. His fox-like grin was firmly in place, but his sharp eyes darted occasionally toward the main school building, as if waiting for something.

"Seriously," Rika was saying, her voice laced with annoyance, "I don't know why the teachers bother with these stupid projects. It's not like group work is going to magically make anyone smarter."

Hayato snorted, twirling the cigarette between his fingers. "Don't tell me you're still bitter about having to carry your group, Rika."

She shot him a glare, though the faint twitch of her lips betrayed her amusement. "You think I let those airheads drag my grade down? Please."

"Of course not," Hayato drawled, his tone dripping with mock sincerity. "You're Rika Sugimoto. Perfect, capable, and always one step ahead."

Her lips curved into a satisfied smirk, but before she could reply, a timid voice broke through the comfortable rhythm of their banter.

"Hayato-senpai?"

The group turned in unison, their collective attention landing on the petite figure standing a few feet away. Kaho stood awkwardly, her small frame dwarfed by the weight of their stares. Her cropped hair framed her flushed face, and her fingers gripped the strap of her bag tightly.

Hayato's grin widened slightly, though his sharp eyes glinted with something unreadable. "Kaho-chan," he said smoothly, pushing off the railing. "What brings you here?"

Rika raised an eyebrow, her gaze flicking between the first-year and Hayato with a faint curl of disdain. "Oh, look," she said under her breath, loud enough for Tsubasa to hear. "His little fan club is expanding."

Kaho didn't seem to hear—or maybe she chose not to. She focused entirely on Hayato, her cheeks burning as she took a small step forward. "I, um… I have something for you."

Hayato tilted his head, his golden hair falling into his eyes. "Oh? And what might that be?"

Her hands fumbled with her bag, pulling out a neatly folded piece of paper. She held it out to him, her fingers trembling slightly. "It's… what you asked for."

Hayato's grin didn't falter as he took the note, his movements slow and deliberate. His eyes flicked briefly to hers, and for a moment, the intensity of his gaze made her shrink back slightly. "Good girl," he murmured, unfolding the paper with a flick of his wrist.

Rika watched the exchange with narrowed eyes, her irritation growing with each passing second. "Seriously?" she muttered, crossing her arms. "What is this, a middle school love letter?"

"Shh," Hayato said without looking up, his tone light but dismissive. "Don't ruin the moment."

The paper crinkled softly as he unfolded it, his golden eyes scanning the contents. Whatever was written there made his grin widen, the sharpness in his expression softening into something almost smug. He folded the paper again, slipping it into the pocket of his blazer with a satisfied pat.

"Well done, Kaho-chan," he said, his tone low and smooth. "You've been very helpful."

Kaho's face lit up like a sparkler, and she ducked her head to hide her smile. "T-Thank you, Hayato-senpai," she stammered. "I'm glad I could help."

"Mm," he hummed, his gaze flicking toward her again. "Run along now."

She nodded quickly, bowing slightly before hurrying off, her steps almost skipping with excitement. To anyone watching, it would have looked like she'd just won the lottery.

"Pathetic," Rika muttered, her sharp eyes following the retreating figure. "She looks like she just got asked to marry."

Hayato leaned back against the railing, his hands tucked into his pockets as he watched Kaho disappear around the corner. His grin remained firmly in place, though there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes.

"What's that about?" Tsubasa asked, his voice low and measured.

"Nothing," Hayato replied easily, brushing off the question with a wave of his hand. "Just a little favor. Nothing important."

Rika frowned, clearly unconvinced. "Since when do you do favors for anyone?"

Hayato's grin widened, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement. "Since it gets me what I want."

"And what do you want?" Arata spoke for the first time, his voice low and even, though his dark eyes held a glint of curiosity.

Hayato glanced at him, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he pushed off the railing, straightening his blazer with a casual shrug. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Arata's gaze lingered on him, sharp and calculating, but he didn't press further. He simply leaned back against the wall, his expression cool and detached as always.

Rika, however, wasn't as easily deterred. She leaned forward, her polished nails tapping against the bench. "You're hiding something," she said, her tone laced with suspicion. "What's on that paper?"

Hayato's grin turned teasing, his voice taking on a singsong lilt. "Wouldn't you like to know?~"

"Hayato," she snapped, her irritation flaring.

But he was already walking away, his hands still deep in his pockets and his whistle echoing softly in the courtyard. His steps were slow, deliberate, almost playful. Whatever was written on that note, it was clear he wasn't sharing it.

In his pocket, the folded paper burned like a promise.