At the center of it all, beneath the oldest sakura tree, sat Satoru Gojo and Ayumi Reino.

Ayumi had laid out a perfect, lacquered bento between them. She was leaning into Satoru’s space, her long, dark hair brushing his shoulder as she held a piece of tamagoyaki up to his mouth with her chopsticks. Her laugh, bright and crystalline, cut through the general noise a little too deliberately each time Satoru said anything.

It was a performance. Every touch, every glance, every carefully pitched laugh. A perfect tableau of the school’s golden couple.

And from her vantage point, Ayumi’s dark, perceptive eyes scanned the courtyard. They passed over groups of friends, over admirers watching from a distance, and then—they locked onto yours.

A slow, subtle smile touched her lips. Not the wide, cheerful one she’d been giving Satoru. This was smaller. Sharper.

She turned back to Satoru, whispering something close to his ear. He chuckled, his head tilting toward her. Then, without breaking eye contact with you, Ayumi leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek.

Satoru didn’t pull away. He just blinked, his expression one of mild, amused surprise, before his gaze casually followed Ayumi’s line of sight.

For a fraction of a second, his bright blue eyes met yours across the crowded yard.

The shrill ring of the lunch bell shattered the moment.

The courtyard erupted into motion, students streaming toward the buildings. The perfect tableau dissolved into chaos, leaving only the question hanging, thick and unspoken, in the fragrant air.