Afternoon

The noise by the pool gradually gave way to the bustle of students leaving after class. Yun Lan had just stuffed his last piece of clothing into his locker when the lock clicked crisply. A lively figure, still radiating warmth and trailing a faint mist of water, suddenly leaned in from behind and to the side.

"Hey! Nice job, Yun Lan. You're really good at swimming."

It was Sota Shibata, a classmate of his. Shibata wore a bright, carefree smile and naturally lifted an arm to hook it around Yun Lan's neck without asking, giving him the sort of playful headlock boys often used to show congratulations and closeness. He had just the right amount of strength—not enough to make Yun Lan uncomfortable, but enough to convey his enthusiasm.

Shibata's hair was still dripping wet, and he smelled faintly of chlorine and boundless energy. He gave Yun Lan's shoulder a hearty shake, his admiration sounding entirely sincere. "I was stunned! The speed, the form! I can honestly say I lost fair and square! First place was well deserved!"

His voice carried, drawing the attention of several boys nearby who were packing up. Shibata was popular in class, outgoing, and athletic. His open and straightforward praise—and his willingness to admit defeat—had, in its own way, helped validate Yun Lan, a somewhat distant student, at least in the realm of sports, where skill spoke for itself.

The sudden physical contact and enthusiasm made Yun Lan stiffen slightly, but he relaxed again almost immediately, wearing his habitual gentle, modest smile. He raised a hand and lightly patted Shibata's sturdy arm—not quite pushing him away, but signaling that he could let go.

"Thanks." Yun Lan sounded polite, with just the right touch of surprise at the praise. "You're flattering me, Shibata. You're pretty good too. You put a lot of effort into your swimming." He offered the standard encouragement one gave an opponent in a social setting, looking at Shibata with friendly warmth, as if he truly remembered his performance.

That was a lie.

Yun Lan calmly called out the words he'd just spoken in his mind. In fact, from the moment he entered the water until he touched the wall, his attention had been entirely on his rhythm, his breathing, and the distance to the other end. The other swimmers in his heat, Shibata included, had been nothing more than blurry background figures beside the lane, quickly overtaken as he sprinted. How many seconds had Shibata taken? Had he placed second or third? Had he made a mistake while breathing? Yun Lan hadn't noticed, nor did he care. His only goals had been the finish line and first place. As far as he was concerned at the time, the other swimmers' results weren't data worth collecting.

But now, faced with Shibata's sincere—or at least apparently sincere—congratulations and open goodwill, an appropriate response was a necessary social cost of maintaining a basic classmate relationship and avoiding the impression that he was "arrogant about his talents." A vague compliment about Shibata's skill cost little and might achieve quite a lot.

Shibata seemed to like the response. He laughed and released Yun Lan, then patted him on the back. "Let's have another go sometime! Though swimming against you would be too stressful. How about basketball? I'm pretty good at that!"

"If the opportunity comes up." Yun Lan smiled without committing either way. He pulled his locker key out and put it in his pocket, making it clear he was ready to leave.

"Great! It's a deal, then!" Shibata took the vague response as a promise, waved to Yun Lan, and turned to find some other friends. His retreating figure was just as full of energy.

Yun Lan watched him go, the polite smile slowly fading from his face. He didn't dislike Shibata's straightforward nature. People like him were usually relatively simple and easy to deal with, and in some situations, they could even make useful "cover" or sources of information. But Yun Lan also knew they were fundamentally different. Shibata's enthusiasm was based on his recognition of Yun Lan's athletic performance, and to Yun Lan, that recognition was merely a byproduct of achieving his goals—not something he valued in itself.

(The swimming teacher's invitation, Shibata's attempt to befriend me... The side effects of showing off my physical abilities are coming faster than I expected.) Yun Lan pondered as he followed the crowd out of the changing room.

He noticed that Ryuji Kanzaki had already changed and was standing not far away, apparently still taking notes. Their eyes met briefly. Kanzaki adjusted her glasses without comment, but Yun Lan knew she had probably recorded his interaction with Shibata as well.

With the 5,000 points he'd just earned and the water still damp on his body, Yun Lan stepped out of the gym. The campus remained lively in the sunlight, and the small stir he'd caused in the pool seemed to have already begun sending faint, unpredictable ripples through the class's social network.

The afternoon sun slanted through the clear windowpanes and spilled into the classroom of Class 1-B, bathing the neat rows of desks in a warm golden light. Most of the students had gone to the cafeteria, the school store, or the courtyard, leaving just a few behind to enjoy the peace of lunch break. A faint aroma of food lingered in the air.

At a set of desks by the window, Yun Lan and Honami Ichinose sat facing each other. The desks had been pushed together temporarily, with a plain placemat spread across them. What caught the eye was that Yun Lan had not just one lunch box in front of him, but two square boxes placed side by side, one blue and one orange. The blue was like a tranquil deep sea, the orange like a warm sunset. They contrasted sharply, yet somehow looked perfectly harmonious together.

The source of the lunches was obvious. Early that morning, in Yun Lan's somewhat dreary dorm room, Honami Ichinose had tied on an apron and expertly used his nearly brand-new kitchen equipment to prepare them herself. The smell of rolled omelet had briefly chased away the room's loneliness.

By now, both lunch boxes were open. The blue one held a balanced combination of staples and protein: rice balls shaped like tiny animals, carefully pan-fried teriyaki chicken, and bright green blanched broccoli. The orange one was filled with side dishes and treats: rolled omelet, candied cherry tomatoes, crisp pickled radish, and several strawberry daifuku that looked delicious. She had thoughtfully taken care to balance nutrition, color, and flavor—and even to account for how much Yun Lan might eat.

Honami Ichinose had only one pale pink lunch box in front of her. Its contents were just as exquisite, but the portion was clearly smaller. She ate in small bites, but her gaze often drifted to Yun Lan and the generous double lunch before him. Satisfaction shone in her blue eyes; seeing him enjoy his food seemed to make her happier than eating her own.