Mechamaru's hope!

The commotion at the dinner table continued for a while.

"Todo, that beef was mine! I was saving it for last!"

"Hmm? You were saving it, Mai?"

"I thought nobody wanted it. Hahaha, sorry."

"Idiot!"

Aoi Todo, Mai Zenin, Momo Nishimiya, and Kasumi Miwa argued red-faced over the last shrimp ball.

"Honestly."

"If I'd known, I wouldn't have brought them out."

Utahime Iori scolded her students for their terrible table manners, but her hands kept adding food to the pot.

"Chuan, hurry up and eat, or..."

Wangchuan held a glass of iced tea, a relaxed curve to his lips as he watched the noisy scene at the table before him.

The mood was just right.

At the other end of the table, a silent gaze rested on Utahime Iori's face.

Mechamaru.

His face, covered in mechanical components, showed no expression, but the eyes hidden behind his lenses stared unblinkingly at Utahime Iori. Or rather, at the area above her left cheekbone.

That scar.

It was gone.

Her skin was smooth and intact, as if the scar had never existed.

Mechamaru's lips moved slightly, and he murmured something only he could hear.

"...It really is gone."

Beside him, Kasumi Miwa was bringing a slice of lotus root toward her bowl with her chopsticks when, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Mechamaru staring toward Utahime Iori, with a distinctly odd look in his eyes.

Her chopsticks paused in midair, and then her lips slowly curled into a slightly mischievous smile.

"Hey!"

She lowered her voice and nudged Mechamaru gently in the ribs with her elbow.

"Huh?!"

Mechamaru snapped back to his senses, his whole body going rigid as though he had been shocked.

He turned to Kasumi Miwa and found her watching him with a meaningful, amused look.

"Miwa?"

"Mechamaru, why do you keep staring at Ms. Iori?"

Kasumi Miwa kept her voice very low, but there was no hiding the teasing in it.

She nudged him lightly again and spoke in a low voice.

"You can't do that, you know~ Our teacher has a boyfriend."

"Huh?!"

No blush showed on Mechamaru's mechanical face.

But his voice was clearly flustered, and he spoke nearly twice as fast as usual.

"What? No! Miwa! Don't get the wrong idea! That's not what I meant!"

His gaze darted frantically between Kasumi Miwa and Utahime Iori.

His mechanical fingers gestured twice in the air, as though searching for a way to talk himself out of this hole.

"I... I wanted to know! How did the injury on her face disappear?"

His tone finally steadied a little as he said this.

Indeed, that was what he truly cared about.

At his words, Kasumi Miwa's teasing expression turned to realization, as though she had suddenly understood something.

She put down her chopsticks and lowered her voice, taking on that gossipy tone peculiar to sharing secrets.

"Oh."

"You mean that."

"I thought..."

"About half a month ago, I think, when Momo, Mai, Todo, and I went on that mission to Mount Yoshida, we ran into three special grade cursed spirits."

"Then Mr. Wangchuan came to back us up..."

As she spoke, she gestured with her lips toward Wangchuan across the table, who was taking a sip of iced tea and turning to chat and laugh with Utahime Iori.

"Our teacher's boyfriend, Mr. Wangchuan."

"A few days after that mission, I noticed the scar on her face was gone."

"Later, I asked her about it in private. Guess what she said?"

Mechamaru's attention was now completely captured, and he leaned forward slightly.

"She said Mr. Wangchuan used magic to make the scar disappear."

Kasumi Miwa's own eyes sparkled.

"Amazing, right? He just erased it with magic! There wasn't even a trace left!"

Mechamaru's eyes flew wide open.

His pupils contracted behind his lenses, though his mechanical face showed no change in expression.

But his fingers unconsciously tightened a little around his cup, making faint clicking sounds at the joints.

"...Magic?"

His voice was much quieter than before, with an uncertain caution, as though he were trying to confirm something.

"Miwa... the magic you mentioned, is it real?"

"Of course it's..."

"Real."

A voice slipped in between them, carrying that distinctly girlish tone that seemed to slip right into their heads to share a secret.

Momo Nishimiya poked her head between them.

Resting her chin on her arm, she glanced around before lowering her voice and speaking mysteriously.

"Mechamaru, Mai and I heard it too."

"Ms. Iori said it herself."

"But she specifically stressed that it wasn't magic like in the movies. It was done using cursed energy."

She paused, then added another remark.

"But she didn't seem too clear on how it worked herself. She just said that guy was always being cryptic and impossible to have a proper conversation with."

"Anyway, that's how it turned out. The scar really is gone."

Mechamaru's gaze settled on Utahime Iori's face again.

At that moment, Utahime had her head turned, saying something to Wangchuan.

There was a smile at the corners of her eyes and a curve to her lips, and the place where the scar had once been was perfectly clear, as though time had erased it.

Then his gaze slowly shifted to the figure beside Utahime Iori.

Wangchuan was lounging against the back of his chair, one hand resting on it, his posture relaxed.

He seemed to sense something and turned his head slightly, meeting Mechamaru's gaze through the rising steam.

There was no scrutiny or probing in his gaze, only a casual glance.

As though checking who was looking at him, he gave a slight nod in greeting, then looked away again.

Mechamaru's breath stopped for an instant.

He lowered his head, looking at his hands resting on the tabletop.

They were hands covered in mechanical components, the metallic paint on their joints gleaming softly under the warm yellow light.

He could feel the mechanisms inside his fingers working minutely and sense the range of motion of every joint, but he could not feel temperature.

He could not feel Kasumi Miwa's nudge through his uniform earlier.

He could not feel the warmth on the surface of the teacup.

He could not feel anything.

He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, the gaze behind his lenses had changed.

There was a faint light in it now, as though something had kindled it, weak but steady.

If... magic really exists.

He said it softly in his mind, his gaze unconsciously drifting back to Kasumi Miwa beside him.

She was huddled together with Momo Nishimiya, talking about something funny, though he did not know what. A smile graced her profile, and the light gilded the edges of her eyelashes with a warm yellow halo.

When she smiled, her eyes curved into two crescents, and her whole being seemed wrapped in something bright.

Mechamaru watched her profile, the ends of her hair swaying slightly as she played around with Momo Nishimiya, and the strip of wrist exposed when she reached for the distant plate of meat.

He repeated those words in his mind.

If...

If something like that really exists.

Maybe I.

He lowered his head and gently curled his mechanical fingers into his palm, his joints making a faint, metallic sound.

Really could stand by her side.

He raised his head, looking toward Wangchuan.

That figure was still lounging against the back of his chair, saying something to Utahime Iori, his lips wearing that curve that suggested nothing mattered.

Mechamaru watched him for a long time.

Then he looked away, picked up the chopsticks before him, and placed a slice of beef in his bowl.

His movements were no different from usual. Only he knew that his fingers had trembled slightly when he picked up his chopsticks.

Beside him, Kasumi Miwa was fighting Momo Nishimiya for the last slice of tripe, completely unaware of Mechamaru's momentary oddness.

Laughing, she snatched the tripe into her bowl, then turned and stuck her tongue out at Mechamaru.

"Hehe! I won!"

Mechamaru looked at her brightly smiling face and paused for an instant.

Then the mechanical components of his face shifted slightly, producing an extremely soft sound, almost like a breath.

Though he could not produce a real laugh, the eyes of his broken body, hidden behind the mechanical one, curved slightly.

"...Yeah, you won."