Aizawa had stepped out ten minutes ago, leaving the class to their independent study. Most had taken the opportunity to stretch, whisper to neighbors, or lean back in their chairs with visible relief.

You had finished your assignment early. Your pencil sat idle, your gaze unfixed, pointed somewhere in the middle distance as your thoughts wandered aimlessly.

Ahead of you, two rows up and one seat to the left, a girl with ash-blonde hair tied in a messy bun was bent over her worksheet. She was one of the quieter members of the class—nothing remarkable, just another face in the sea of desks.

You didn’t register her at all. Your eyes were glassy, focused on nothing.

Behind you, at a desk two rows back, a pair of golden eyes narrowed.

You blinked, pulled from your daze, and turned around—just in time to see Mina’s back as she gathered her things with quick, jerky movements. Her jaw was tight. Her horns caught the light as she stood.