Hearing Chika's frustrated mumbling, Masao wordlessly offered her his own straw.
"Here, use mine. It's still perfectly good."
Chika glanced at the proffered straw but shook her head.
"It's fine, I can manage this one. You should go help the others, Masao-kun." She gestured to their friends, who were all having the same struggle.
The rest of the group had chosen lighter drinks—fruit teas, floral infusions, and lemon water—and thus were all equipped with the same flimsy, slender straws. Only Masao, with his milk tea loaded down with tapioca pearls and pudding, had needed a thick, sturdy one.
Whether it was due to shoddy manufacturing or inexplicably tough protective film, none of the girls could pierce their seals.
Masao sighed in resignation. 'I guess it's my duty, then.'
Two distinct pops later, his straw was infused with the faint, mingling aftertastes of two new drinks.
Fujiwara Moeha: "Thank you, Masao-senpai."
Shirogane Kei: "Thank you, Senpai."
'Oh.'
The honorifics sent a distinct thrill of pleasure through him. He felt so gratified he was tempted to just hand the straw over permanently. But his work wasn't done.
"Me next! Hurry up!" Jahy demanded, thrusting her cup under his nose.
With noticeable reluctance, Masao stabbed the straw through her lid with a bit too much force, causing a wave of liquid to slosh over the rim.
"Hey, watch it!" Jahy cried, sounding genuinely pained. She quickly brought the cup to her lips, lapping up the spillage with a determined efficiency that brooked no waste.
With Jahy's minor crisis averted, Masao's gaze fell on Yukinoshita. He raised his brow and his straw in a silent offer.
Yukinoshita hesitated, her pride warring with practicality for a moment before she extended her cup. "If you would, please."
"Of course."
After successfully delivering her drink back to her, a collective, silent attention settled on the final holdout: Shinomiya Kaguya.
Internally, Kaguya was in turmoil. 'What is this strange communal ritual? If the straws are defective, the logical solution is to request replacements from the vendor. Is this an unspoken exercise in resource conservation? When everyone else is participating, refusing would make me appear standoffish.'
In the end, Masao successfully served everyone, finally freeing him to address his own drink.
His straw, a veteran of too many battles, was now soft, slightly warped, and looking worse for wear. But even a weary warhorse is stronger than a newborn foal; despite its sorry state, the straw valiantly pierced the thick seal on his own cup.
'You have completed your duty. You may rest now.'
(Straw: On the contrary, I have exceeded my duty. I can go no further.)
With their drinks finally in hand, the group meandered through the mall.
"Wow, look at this panda thermos! It's so adorable!" Chika held up a white thermos shaped like a stylized panda's head, its black ears serving as the grip.
"Chika-senpai, how do you even open that thing?"
"Masao-kun, don't tell me you don't know? It's simple, like this!" With a demonstrative twist, she unscrewed the panda's head from its body.
"Ah! Senpai! You decapitated it!"
"My bad! I didn't mean to— Wait, no, I didn't! This is just the lid!" Flustered, Chika stared at the panda head in her hand before screwing it back on with a huff. "You know what? This is poor design. Who thought it was a good idea to make a cute panda's head removable? It's morbid!"
Yukinoshita, who had been eyeing a similar ceramic mug, silently retracted her hand.
"A better design," Masao mused, "I wouldn't use such a literal panda. It feels low-effort. I'd model it after a segment of bamboo. More subtle, more elegant. It would have a classic, timeless feel."
The others nodded, considering it. Chika brightened. "You could still have cute panda illustrations on the bamboo!"
"Or," Yukinoshita added, her voice soft but clear, "you could inscribe it with a line of panda facts. It could even be customized to the customer's preference."
Nearby, the shopkeeper, who had been discreetly eavesdropping, straightened up, his eyes gleaming. 'Now there's an idea!'
The man approached, beaming.
"Please, excuse my interruption. I couldn't help but overhear your brilliant suggestions. I'd be honored to implement them. As a small token of my gratitude, please accept these." He presented each of them with a finely woven friendship bracelet.
"We get a gift?!" Chika accepted hers, delighted. She never imagined she'd be rewarded for her off-the-cuff ideas.
Moeha and Kei, who had stayed quiet, were also touched to be included and offered their shy thanks.
The unexpected presents lifted everyone's spirits, and they each ended up purchasing a small souvenir before moving on, leaving the shopkeeper already on the phone, excitedly describing his new product line.
—
Their next stop was the shop next door. Masao paused, looking at the familiar, grumpy-looking panda mascot on the sign.
"Is that... Panda-kun?"
This wasn't just any panda; it was the specific, slightly fiercer-looking "Mr. Panda" character, less roundly cute and more... intense.
Yukinoshita's eyes lit up with a rare, unguarded sparkle. "They have a dedicated store. I've never seen so many in one place."
Seeing her obvious delight, Masao led the way inside. Yukinoshita made a beeline for the plushie mountain, her usual composure forgotten.
Chika picked up a standard Mr. Panda doll, tilting her head. "He feels different from other pandas. It's this stern, judgmental look in his eyes... doesn't it remind you of the Student Council President?"
'The President!'
It was as if a secret command had been uttered. Shinomiya Kaguya, who had been loitering near the entrance with an air of boredom, instantly glided over.
Her eyes locked onto the plushie, and her gaze sharpened with startling clarity.
'The resemblance is uncanny. It has his exact stare.'
A single, grumpy plush panda had simultaneously captivated the two most unapproachable girls in the group.
Masao picked up a different variant. This one was a delinquent, a miniature Mr. Panda clutching a tiny liquor bottle in its paw.
'So the 'bad boy' appeal even extends to stuffed animals? It seems Yukinoshita has a hidden rebellious streak.'
An absurd image flashed in his mind: Yukinoshita, a bandage wrapped around her chest, swimming in an unbuttoned white lab on the back in marker. She'd be crouched in a delinquent's slouch, tapping a baseball bat against her shoulder as she growled, "Hey, you. Masao. You got your allowance today, don'tcha? Be a pal and hand it over."
'Delinquent Yukinoshita... I have to admit, it's a compelling look.'
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