The morning air buzzed with the kind of energy that could only mean one thing: the school trip was officially underway.
Homeroom students from Class 2-B gathered at the station, chattering excitedly, their luggage clustered in untidy piles around their feet. Teachers attempted to maintain order, but their voices were drowned out by the hum of adolescent anticipation.
Saito Kagami stood near the edge of the group, his bag neatly packed, his posture relaxed, his face... well, the same as always. Neutral. Blank. Observant.
"Saito!" Mari called, waving him over. "You're standing all the way over there like you're about to board a train to solitude. Get over here with the group!"
"Statistically, the outer edges of a crowd allow for optimal visibility and personal space," Saito replied, stepping closer nonetheless.
Mari just rolled her eyes. "You're lucky you have that face. People think you're mysterious instead of annoying."
Riko Kumijo snickered behind her hand. "He's not mysterious. He's just buffering."
Saito glanced at her, eyes flicking to her overnight bag, which was noticeably overstuffed. "You appear to be transporting half your bedroom."
"Some of us like to be prepared for multiple outfit changes, thank you very much," Riko replied, hands on hips.
If anyone noticed how her expression softened when she looked at him—or how Saito's gaze lingered just a moment too long—no one said a word.
They had agreed to keep their relationship private. At least for now. Riko didn't want the extra attention. She liked the quiet moments—the texts, the subtle glances, the shared silences. And Saito… well, he wasn't entirely sure how to act like a boyfriend in public anyway.
"Train's here!" Ryouta called, hefting his bag over his shoulder. "Shotgun window seat!"
"Shotgun's not a thing on trains, Ryouta," Kana said dryly.
"Still called it."
They boarded in pairs, and by some miracle—or perhaps the teachers' twisted sense of humor—Saito and Riko ended up seated beside each other.
"Coincidence?" Riko whispered.
"Or the universe's poor grasp of subtlety," Saito replied.
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching scenery blur past the windows. Riko popped open a bag of chips and offered it to him. He took one with precise movement, as if analyzing the structural integrity before biting.
Mari leaned over from across the aisle. "Hey Riko, rate your seat partner one to ten."
"Seven," Riko answered quickly.
Saito raised an eyebrow. "Only a seven?"
"You docked points for lack of small talk and refusing to share your music playlist."
"Your criteria are subjective."
She gave him a sly smile. "And your face is easy to fluster."
He looked out the window, but not before she caught the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth.
After arriving at the inn—a traditional ryokan nestled in the quiet hills of Kyoto—the students were split into groups for room assignments. Boys and girls, naturally, were on separate floors.
Saito ended up rooming with Ryouta, Shun, and a classmate named Daichi, who immediately began arguing with Shun over futon placement.
Meanwhile, Riko's room was a whirlwind of laughter and suitcases being flung open like treasure chests. Mari claimed the bed nearest the window. Kana immediately called dibs on the shower.
Riko sat on her futon, checking her phone discreetly. A new message blinked into view.
[Saito]: I am being subjected to a debate about snoring etiquette. Pray for me.
She stifled a laugh.
[Riko]: Sleep with earplugs. And good luck—Shun talks in his sleep, remember?
[Saito]: I regret not reading the fine print of this trip.
Dinner was a buffet-style extravaganza, and the group dove in with the enthusiasm of students who had been promised "all-you-can-eat." Saito filled his plate with a carefully balanced mix of protein, grains, and vegetables.
Riko plopped down next to him with a tray loaded with karaage, noodles, and three different desserts.
He stared at her tray. "That seems nutritionally imbalanced."
"This is my vacation metabolism, don't judge me."
She grinned, picking up a strawberry tart. Saito watched the way she leaned into the conversation with Kana, her laughter natural and bright. He liked that about her—how she never tried to dim herself for others.
She caught him looking and leaned closer.
"What's with the staring, Mr. Observant?"
"Just confirming something," he said quietly.
"What?"
"That your smile is one of the things that I admire most about you."
She blinked. Then blushed. Then shoved a piece of karaage in his mouth to shut him up.
"You're not allowed to say things like that without warning!"
He chewed. "Why not?"
"Because I don't have enough karaage to keep silencing you."
That night, after the teachers did final rounds and lights-out was announced, Saito lay on his futon staring at the ceiling.
Across the room, Shun was mumbling something about yakisoba. Ryouta had one arm thrown dramatically over his eyes like he was posing for a melodramatic photo shoot in his sleep.
Saito reached for his phone.
[Saito]: You awake?
[Riko]: Of course. Kana snores like an old man.
[Saito]: Want me to google earplugs for you?
[Riko]: Nah. I'm weirdly used to it already. Did you survive?
[Saito]: Barely. I miss solitude.
[Riko]: You mean you miss me.
[Saito]: …Possibly.
[Riko]: You're terrible at hiding affection, y'know.
[Saito]: I prefer to think of it as... minimalistic honesty.
[Riko]: Get some sleep, Mr. Minimalism. Tomorrow, we temple-hop.
[Saito]: I will rest only because I require energy to navigate tourist crowds and pretentious souvenir shops.
[Riko]: And also because I'll hit you with a fan if you yawn in front of a monk.
[Saito]: Duly noted.
He turned off the phone and stared at the dark ceiling for a long moment.
Strange how his heart felt... full. He hadn't planned on it. But then again, most of the best data points came from unexpected variables.
And Riko Kumijo was the most chaotic variable he'd ever met.