The sky had gone dark by the time we left the chapel. Streetlights along the coastal road flickered on one by one. Thunder still grumbled somewhere over the bay, distant but stubborn.
Hani walked beside me, one hand loose on the handlebar of her bike as its wheel clicked softly over the pavement.
We didn't speak again until the path curved away from the school gates.
"Same star doodle," I said while tilting my phone towards her. "Same nervous tick—side of the neck, same timing."
Hani glanced once. Didn't slow down.
"Yeah," she said. "They're dating. I know."
I blinked. "Dating?"
She gave a small, knowing huff. "You couldn't tell? Eiji, no one gets that tense over a book unless it's not really about the book."
The words settled, simple and obvious once she said them.
"Yeah…" I exhaled. "That makes sense. So it wasn't sabotage then. If the book turns up on the scan tomorrow, someone has to explain why it wasn't where it belonged."
Hani nodded, eyes on the path ahead.
"Yeah… I think so." She hesitated, the words coming out softer. "Maybe it wasn't about trying to get away with anything. Maybe… it was just about not making things worse."
I thought it through for half a block.
"Then if that's the case," I said slowly, "the book should be on that shelf."
Hani's mouth curved—just the tiniest smirk.
"You analyze people like puzzles," she said. "But you miss the ones staring you in the face."
I frowned. "What?"
"Nothing." She bumped the bike handlebar lightly against my hip as the path narrowed. "Tomorrow. Let's meet Kaede at the library at lunch again."
The coastal road curved ahead, streetlights stretching toward her neighborhood.
---
The lunch bell echoed faintly down the hall as we reached the library. The main room was quieter than usual, a few students lingering near the windows with half-read books.
Kaede was at the desk again. Same posture. Same stillness.
Hani spoke first, voice low.
"We think the book was returned," she said. "It's just not where it's supposed to be."
Kaede's eyes shifted to her.
"Coco Chao." Hani continued. "She borrowed it, and brought it back herself... But she wasn't focused. Everything that day was stacked on top of her."
"Olympiad selection rumors," Kaede said. "Upcoming math quiz."
I nodded. "And someone else noticed before anyone else could."
"Hikaru Tsubasa," I added, quieter.
"Hikaru?" she said.
Hani nodded, leaning against the counter.
"He was with her when she borrowed it," she said. "If something looked off, he'd be the first to see it."
Kaede looked past us, toward the shelves.
"If he found it," she said, "why not just hand it back?"
"Because returning it loudly would've been worse," Hani said. "For her."
The way she said it made something click.
Coco's genuine confusion about the book's absence hadn't been an act.
Hikaru's careful recall of the cart hadn't been coincidence.
Silence settled between us.
"You're saying," Kaede said, "this wasn't sabotage."
"No," I said. "More like damage control."
Kaede exhaled once.
"And where," I added, tilting my head just enough toward Hani, "would someone hide a math book if they didn't want math students finding it?"
The question drifted out, already knowing its own answer.
Her gaze drifted off, then came back.
"Music," she said finally. "Third aisle, third shelf. Behind the piano scores. That's where Hikaru's been lately... and where the dust was disturbed yesterday afternoon."
---
The air grew heavy and stale as we moved into the older sections.
Kaede reached into a row of piano scores, sliding two thick green volumes aside to reveal a red spine with gold lettering.
The surrounding dust was messy—smudged with fresh fingerprints, as if someone had shoved the books back in a hurry.
Back at the desk, the soft beep of the scanner marked the return. Kaede waited for the screen to clear before she finally spoke.
"Tomorrow's scan won't flag it. No report, no questions. Thank you."
We both looked at her.
Hani's smile came quick and gentle; my nod was slower, quieter.
Kaede's fingers lingered on the keyboard, her eyes still fixed on the updated log. "Sometimes," she said, almost absently, "you're just as culpable when you watch something as when you actually participate."
She pressed enter, the system clicked shut, and she looked up at us with an unreadable expression.
The words lingered, pulling at the memory of the rooftop—watching the courtyard below, classes shuffling on without me, choosing silence over the mess of stepping in.
---
The afternoon bell rang sharp and clean.
Chairs scraped. Bags zipped. Hani already halfway down the hall before I finished packing my notebook. Olympiad group session heating up.
She didn't look back. I watched the corridor swallow her.
I didn't head home. Instead, I turned toward the club room.
Room 722's door stood fully closed when I reached it.
I pulled my key from my pocket, slid it into the lock and turned with a familiar click.
Inside, the room looked mostly as we'd left it: table clear, dice tray centered, shelves lined with the same battered books.
But something caught my eye—a drawer on the old desk hung open by half an inch.
And the dice tray? Rotated just enough—ninety degrees clockwise from where Michi always left it.
I paused, hand still on the doorknob. The air didn't stir.
There's no one here.
Then footsteps echoed from the far end of the hallway—light, unhurried, coming from the opposite direction.
Hina rounded the corner, notebook tucked under her arm. She slowed when she saw me in the doorway, her smile quick and polite.
"Eiji-senpai," she said. "It's nice to see you again."
I stepped back into the hall, letting the door swing shut behind me with a soft thud. "You're here late."
"Yeah… I was hoping to catch Michi-senpai. The math quiz is coming up, and I thought she could tutor me again."
Her tone was casual, earnest. The same as always.
I glanced back at the door. "You were looking for Michi?"
"Uh-huh." She nodded, eyes flicking briefly to the room behind me before meeting mine again. "But the door was locked when I tried earlier. Figured I'd circle back after checking the faculty offices."
The words hung there, smooth and unforced. I thought of the drawer, the tray. The hallway's quiet stretched a beat too long.
For a moment her expression settled into something flat—still, watching, like she was reading the situation rather than being in it. Then she tilted her head slightly, and the warmth clicked back on.
"Everything okay? You look like you just got here too."
"Yeah," I said, keeping my voice even. "Just checking something."
We stood there another moment, the buzz of the lights filling the gap. She adjusted her bag strap, fingers lingering on the fabric.
"You borrowed the Tanaka book too, didn't you?" I asked.
Her eyebrows lifted, just a little. "Yeah. I figured I should try harder this term."
"Planning to move sections?"
She hesitated—not long enough to be suspicious, but enough to notice.
"If it happens," she said, "I wouldn't complain."
Another pause. She glanced down at her notebook, then back up, like the idea had surfaced slowly.
"Actually… if you're free," she said, "maybe you could help instead? Just a bit. I won't take much time."
I considered saying no. The thought came too quickly to be coincidence.
"I don't have plans," I said finally. "But don't expect much."
She smiled wider at that, like the answer had never really been in doubt.
Inside, she slid her notebook across the table, the pages already thick with flags.
The problems weren't easy. They weren't entry-level either.
I worked through the first one without thinking.
Then the second.
Then the third.
Hina leaned in closer, eyes following the steps, nodding along like it all made sense once it was written out.
A pause, her breath steady beside me.
"You really are amazing, Senpai," she said, her voice a touch brighter than before. "You know that, right? You could've joined the Math Olympiad too."
I capped the pen.
She flipped to the next page. "Chihiro's been talking about trying out once he's in high school. A lot of people are planning to, actually."
The words landed heavier than she probably intended.
"I'll think about it," I said.
She didn't react. Just smiled, satisfied enough.
When she left a few minutes later, the door closed behind her with a soft click.
The same sound I'd heard earlier.