Chapter 1

Chapter 1 – "Even If You're Bland, You're Still Cute."

The gentle breeze rolled over the school rooftop, rustling the edges of the chain-link fence and carrying with it the distant hum of students far below. It was the kind of lazy afternoon where the sun wasn't too hot, the sky was painted with soft whites and pale blues, and the world felt content to spin just a little slower.

Lying there with one headphone still in his ear, Kazumi Naoko looked perfectly at home. With his sharp eyes half-lidded and his gaming console balanced on his chest, he had claimed his usual rooftop corner. Only this time, his head wasn't resting on a rolled-up jacket or his schoolbag.

It was resting on someone's lap.

More specifically—on Rino Chisa's lap.

A first-year student with blank, unchanging eyes and the emotional tone of a vending machine. She was known for her lack of expression and a monotone voice that could make a disaster report sound like a grocery list. And yet, here she was, sitting calmly against the fence, letting a second-year senpai use her lap as a pillow without complaint.

Kazumi didn't question it too much anymore. At this point, he was used to weird things happening around him.

The soft tap-tap of buttons continued as his fingers flew across the console screen. He was locked in a boss battle and utterly focused, even as the girl beneath him suddenly spoke.

"…Senpai."

"Hm?" he replied without looking away.

Rino's gaze didn't change as she stared off toward the sky. "If you could eat anything right now… anything you really, really wanted to eat… what would it be?"

Kazumi blinked at the question. "Huh? Random."

Still, he didn't stop playing. "I dunno… maybe karaage. The crispy kind. Homemade. The kind that leaves the smell stuck in your clothes even after you're done eating."

"Karaage. I see." Her voice remained as flat as ever, as though she were taking mental notes for a textbook.

Kazumi raised an eyebrow, though his eyes remained on his game.

"…You're not planning to cook, right?"

"No. I just like knowing things," she answered simply. "Also, I can't cook."

"Figured as much."

Another pause. The tension in the game reached its climax—just a few more hits to beat the boss. His thumbs moved faster, his eyes locked in.

Then, once again, her voice came.

"Senpai."

He flinched slightly. "What now?"

"What kind of girl do you like?"

Kazumi's hands froze mid-action.

Slowly, he turned his head to glance up at her. "…What's with the sudden interview?"

Rino blinked once. "I just want to know. Curiosity."

He sighed, clearly not expecting this line of questioning while in the middle of a boss fight. "Alright… I guess I like girls who are honest, chill, and don't talk too much. Not overly clingy. Not fake."

Rino nodded once. "So, me."

"Hey, don't just go putting yourself in the category without permission."

"But I qualify," she said, as if it were a fact she had double-checked.

Kazumi groaned. "Sure, sure…"

For a moment, he thought the conversation had ended. But then her tone shifted slightly.

Still soft, still quiet—but something felt… different.

"For you… do I seem bland?"

Kazumi blinked. That question didn't sound like one of her usual robotic curiosities. He sat up a little and looked at her more closely. Her face was calm—blank as always—but there was something subtle in her voice. A tremor barely audible. Something like… insecurity?

"Do I seem bland to you, Senpai?" she repeated, her eyes never wavering.

"…Hah."

Without warning, Kazumi reached forward and gently grabbed her cheeks, squishing them between his hands.

"Wha—"

Her words came out muffled as he pressed her face like dough. He gave her cheeks a soft pull, observing her reaction—or rather, the lack of one.

"You've got the expression of a bored goldfish," he said with a smirk. "But somehow, you're still cute. Also—" he squished her cheeks again, "—your face is squishier than I expected. Like mochi that's been left in the fridge for thirty minutes."

"Thank you," she replied blandly, lips still pressed from his grip.

He blinked at her. "That's your reaction to a compliment?"

"Yes."

Kazumi sighed and let go of her face. "Right… back to the boss fight, then."

He lowered himself again, resuming his place on her lap as if nothing had happened. The game screen lit up once more, the battle music humming quietly from the speakers.

Silence returned.

But it wasn't the cold, awkward kind.

It was comfortable.

The wind passed gently between them. Rino absentmindedly watched the clouds roll by. Kazumi tapped away at his game, now more relaxed than before.

After a while, he was the one to break the silence.

"…Hey, Rino."

"Mm?"

"What's your type?"

She didn't hesitate.

"You."

Kazumi didn't even flinch. His expression remained flat, as if he had predicted it.

"Yeah. I figured you'd say that."

"Then why ask?" she tilted her head slightly.

"I was hoping you'd surprise me for once," he replied with a tired breath.

"But my type is Kazumi Naoko. You're you."

"…I give up."

Dropping his head back onto her lap, Kazumi closed his eyes. He couldn't tell whether her honesty was frustrating or endearing. Maybe both.

Maybe that was just how Rino worked—so straightforward it circled back to being confusing again.

A few minutes later, Kazumi peeked at the clock on his console and sat up.

"Five more minutes until class starts. I should head back."

Rino nodded and rose to her feet, brushing off her skirt without a word. She didn't complain. She never did.

As they headed toward the rooftop door, Kazumi gave her a sidelong glance.

"So, let me get this straight. You show up out of nowhere, force me to rest on your lap, ask me weird questions… and now you're acting like none of it happened?"

"Yes."

"…You're a strange one."

"I'm aware."

Together, they walked down the rooftop stairs—not too fast, not too slow. There was no rush in their steps. No urgency in their silence.

But strangely, the quiet between them didn't feel awkward.

It felt... just right.

Kazumi didn't say anything else.

And neither did she.

But something unspoken hung between them.

A strange, quiet warmth.

Like the kind you only get when you're with someone who's okay with silence.