Study Group Daily

As for Kushida Kikyo, Uesugi Hara wasn't particularly worried; with her social skills, she wouldn't lack for people to look after her.

She hadn't asked him to look after her either, and besides, both of them needed some time to cool off.

Afternoon, the library.

A gentle breeze swept across the bookshelves, carrying the scent of ink peculiar to old books.

Kamuro Masumi stared at the differential equation she had just solved in her notebook, her pen tip hovering over the paper, hesitant to land.

The grind of these past few days had been like a long migration; she had finally transformed from a "freshwater fish" intimidated by formulas into a "saltwater fish" capable of navigating freely between theorems and corollaries, even feeling a newfound sense of certainty as her fingertips brushed against the pages. (The ocean of knowledge)

"Uesugi," she suddenly turned her head, her gaze colliding with the eyes of the boy sitting next to her, her expression carrying a hint of the daze that comes from just pulling oneself out of a formula. "How exactly is your brain wired?"

No sooner had she spoken than Morishita Ran, sitting diagonally across, leaned over, her hair brushing against the open notebook. "Yeah, Uesugi Hara, that transformation approach you mentioned offhandedly last time took the three of us half a day to figure out!" Yamamura Miki nodded in agreement.

Uesugi Hara, spinning his pen, swept his gaze over the neat derivation process in Masumi's notebook and suddenly curled the corner of his lips. "Probably just a little bit smarter than you lot."

"Tch—" Kamuro Masumi deliberately dragged out the sound, but it was laced with a smile. Morishita Ran tilted her head, her braids swaying gently with the movement, and she actually frowned as she began to ponder. Yamamura Miki didn't speak, only lowered her eyes and pursed her lips; the smile in her eyes was like light spots cast upon a lake, rippling gently before spreading out to land on the open draft paper, softening even those crooked formulas.

Today's review session wasn't as tedious as usual. Time slipped away silently amidst the rustling of pens across paper and the occasional low-voiced discussion.

When Kamuro Masumi solved a difficult problem, she would deliberately nudge Uesugi Hara's arm with her elbow; the sight of Morishita Ran sighing while resting her chin on her hand when stuck on a theorem always drew a soft, pursed-lip smile from Yamamura Miki. Uesugi Hara appeared to be buried in his book, yet he could always provide a precise hint the moment they hit a wall.

The sunlight outside the window quietly shifted its angle, moving from the top of the bookshelf to the tabletop, casting slender light spots onto the open pages.

"Judging by your current state, you've just about finished your review." Uesugi Hara checked the time—5:23—and his gaze swept over the three open notebooks. He tapped his fingertips against the edge of the table, his tone carrying a subtle, unmistakable affirmation. "I expect you'll be able to get decent grades on this midterm."

"Really?" There was a trace of imperceptible excitement in Morishita Ran's voice, her tone lifting at the end like a wind chime brushed by a breeze.

The ballpoint pen in her hand clicked as she pressed the tip out, and she unconsciously drew a circle on her draft paper. "Then that electromagnetism problem I struggled with yesterday, I should at least get partial credit for the steps, right?"

Beside her, Yamamura Miki also lifted her eyes, her fingertips quietly sliding the formula manual a little closer to herself, a faint smile playing on her lips.

Kamuro Masumi let out a "hmph" and slapped her completed exercise book onto the table. "That goes without saying. After all, we are 'fully evolved' saltwater fish now."

Although she said that, the tips of her ears turned quietly red—being acknowledged by this "veteran saltwater fish" who loved to nitpick actually felt pretty good.

Uesugi Hara looked at the undisguised anticipation in their eyes. There was no obvious ripple on his face, but his movements slowed as he closed his book, his tone as flat as if he were stating a fact. "Pack up. Time to go. It's getting late."

He slung his schoolbag over his shoulder, his gaze sweeping over their expressions before he paused to add, "Let's go eat. That cake shop from last time—my treat." Seeing the flash of excitement in Morishita Ran's eyes, he added, "As for the rest, if you all manage to get decent grades this time, it won't be too late to treat you again then."

"Uesugi Hara!" Morishita Ran called out crisply, immediately giving him a sparkling thumbs-up. "This time I want to try the Black Forest cake! I was eyeing it on the menu last time!" As she spoke, she busily stuffed her things into her bag, her excitement irrepressible amidst the rustling of paper.

Yamamura Miki nodded silently at the side, her fingertips already beginning to organize her notebook page by page; the way she smoothed the corners showed a sense of earnestness, clearly having no intention of refusing this kindness.

Compared to the composure of the first two, Kamuro Masumi seemed somewhat flustered. She hurriedly shoved her pens into her pencil case, mumbling "Got it" in response, but she wasn't paying attention and dropped her eraser, which rolled right to Uesugi Hara's feet.

Uesugi Hara bent down to pick it up, and as he tossed it back to her, his tone carried an inadvertent piece of advice: "Clumsy. If you make a mistake like this during the exam, you'll be in trouble."

Masumi paused as she caught the eraser, her cheeks burning slightly, but she stiffened her neck and retorted, "Mind your own business." Her movements, however, were noticeably steadier.

By the time the four of them walked out of the library with their bags, the sunset was spilling along the path, stretching their shadows out long like a string of crooked ellipses.

Uesugi Hara walked in the lead, Kamuro Masumi followed beside him, and they traded barbs, their conversation filled with a competitive edge. Morishita Ran chimed in from time to time, always managing to steer the topic precisely toward cake flavors. Yamamura Miki followed half a step behind, her lowered eyelids masking most of her expression; only when she heard something amusing would she raise a hand to cover her mouth, a faint smile crinkling the corners of her eyes.

The evening breeze brushed past them, lifting their hemlines and gathering their fragmented chatter into a bundle that drifted slowly into the distance.

At the cake shop, the warm yellow light washed over the glass counter, making the various desserts look as if they were soaked in honey.

Morishita Ran practically lunged at the counter, her eyes lighting up as she pointed at the Black Forest cake in the display case. "This! I want this one!" Kamuro Masumi didn't hesitate either, pointing her finger at the label for the caramel pudding, though her tone was deliberately calm. "I thought this looked alright when I saw the menu last time."

When it was Yamamura Miki's turn, she didn't hesitate for a long time clutching her hem like last time. She simply looked over the counter, her gaze lingering on the matcha red bean roll for two seconds before she said softly to the clerk, "Please give me one of these, and a cup of brown rice tea." Her voice wasn't loud, but it was clear.

Uesugi Hara stood to the side watching, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing his terminal. The time they had spent together was like water slowly coming to a boil, quietly melting away the initial awkwardness—she no longer needed others to encourage her repeatedly before she dared to speak, and when the clerk asked if she wanted ice, she even shook her head gently: "Room temperature is fine, thank you."

Morishita Ran was already sitting at the table with her cake, and seeing Yamamura Miki approach, she immediately waved. "Yamamura Miki, come here! This cherry is super sweet!" Yamamura Miki smiled and sat down, pushing the brown rice tea toward the edge of the table, right within Kamuro Masumi's reach—Masumi had mentioned last time that black tea was too astringent, perhaps preferring the mildness of rice tea.

Kamuro Masumi glanced at the teacup and said nothing, but when she picked up her spoon, she first poured half a spoonful of the caramel sauce from the side onto her pudding—that was the "it tastes better this way" tip Uesugi Hara had mentioned offhandedly earlier.

Uesugi Hara was walking over with his coffee just as he caught this scene.

He didn't say anything, simply placing his cup on the table; the soft clink of the cup bottom against the surface sounded like a beat struck for this silent rapport.

This friendship was like a thin stream quietly flowing over stone steps in spring; there were no earth-shattering ups and downs, yet in the day-to-day interactions, it had soaked into something warm and gentle.

Kamuro Masumi's thorns had retracted a little; her stubbornness now hid a concern for her friends, and even their bickering had lost some of its sharpness. Morishita Ran's excitement was like a small stone that could easily ripple the calm, yet she was also quietly learning to look after others. Yamamura Miki's silence was no longer cowardice, but had transformed into delicate observation; she would remember who disliked cold drinks and who was interested in what, building a bridge of rapport in the quietest way possible.

This bond didn't need deliberate maintenance; just like the library breeze that would always brush past the bookshelves on time, it was natural, yet before they knew it, it had become each other's softest support.

Uesugi Hara picked up his coffee cup and took a small sip. As the slightly bitter liquid slid down his throat, he lowered his eyes to watch the ripples in the bottom of the cup, the corners of his mouth twitching imperceptibly, and a silent thought crossed his mind: "This is actually quite interesting."

The twilight outside the window spilled into the shop, landing on Morishita Ran's hand holding the fork, on the slightly curved corners of Yamamura Miki's eyes, and on the sugar jar that Kamuro Masumi had quietly pushed over while pretending to be impatient.

These fragmented, warm scenes were completely at odds with the "profit" and "efficiency" he often calculated, much like a lump of sugar that hadn't dissolved at the bottom of a cup, slowly spreading a flavor in his heart that he couldn't quite name.