Yamashita showed up at my place that Saturday morning, quietly knocking before stepping in with her usual careful grace.
She carried a small stack of notebooks and a pen, eyes flicking toward me with that same soft, attentive gaze she always had.
She was wearing a blue sunflower dress.
I barely looked up from the papers scattered across my desk. "Morning, Prez," I muttered, tone flat.
"Welcome to my crib. Make yourself at home—mi casa es su casa… or something," I added with a lazy shrug.
"Good morning, Shiba-kun," she replied, voice soft and careful as she set her notebooks down.
She glanced around the room for a moment before offering a small, polite smile.
"Your place is… very comfortable," she said gently, clearly trying to compliment it as politely as she could.
Then, she set the books on the table.
"I thought we could start with math… if that's okay with you."
The apartment was quiet except for the soft rustle of notebook pages and the faint hum of my PC.
Yamashita stood there for a second, taking everything in — the posters, the cables, the half‑finished lyrics scattered across the desk.
Her eyes lingered on the sunflower dress she'd chosen, like she was suddenly second‑guessing it.
"It's fine," I said, waving a hand lazily. "Math is probably the safest place to start."
Yamashita smoothed her dress as she sat down beside me, careful not to wrinkle the fabric. She wasn't too close, but I could still smell the faint scent of her shampoo. Something floral, soft.
She placed her notebook between us, opening it with that same precise, almost ceremonial care she did everything with.
"I reviewed the material last night," she said quietly. "I think we can cover the basics today, and then move on to practice problems tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" I echoed.
She blinked, flustered. "I-I mean—only if you want to. I don't want to impose."
"You're not imposing," I said, leaning back in my chair. "I need the help."
Her shoulders relaxed just a little.
"I thought we could start with quadratic functions. You seemed to struggle with them on the last quiz."
"Struggle is a strong word," I muttered.
She blinked. "You got a 28."
"…Okay, maybe not that strong."
A tiny smile crossed her lips — the kind she tried to hide but never fully could.
She got just a little closer, enough that her shoulder almost brushed mine.
Her pen tapped lightly against the page.
"If you don't understand something," she murmured, "please tell me. I won't think less of you."
I snorted. "You already think I'm a delinquent."
Her eyes widened. "I-I don't!"
"Sure."
"I don't," she insisted, cheeks warming. "You're… you're trying. That matters."
She said it so quietly I almost missed it.
And for a second, the room felt a little too warm.
We started working through the first set of problems. She explained things slowly, patiently, checking my notes every so often with that same gentle focus she always had.
But every time she leaned in to point at something, her hair brushed my arm.
And every time it happened, she froze for half a second before continuing like nothing happened.
Cute.
After about twenty minutes, she paused, tapping her pen lightly against the page.
"Shiba-kun… your handwriting is… um…"
"Terrible?" I offered.
She hesitated. "…Unique."
I snorted. "Just say it's bad."
"It's… a little bad," she admitted, cheeks warming. "But I can still read it."
"Barely."
She smiled — small, shy, but real.
For a moment, the room felt warmer.
Then her eyes drifted to the stack of papers on my desk — the ones with tour dates, setlists, and scribbled lyrics.
Her expression softened.
"You're working very hard," she said quietly. "Even if it doesn't look like it to other people."
I shrugged. "Gotta hurry up and get a distribution deal with a label."
"And after that?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
I didn't answer right away.
Debt. Negotiations. Labels watching from a distance. A future that felt both close and impossible.
"I'll figure it out," I said finally.
Yamashita looked at me for a long moment — not judging, not pitying, just… seeing me.
"If you need help," she said softly, "with anything… not just school… you can ask."
I blinked.
She looked down quickly, flustered again. "I-I mean academically. Or… organizationally. Or—"
"Yeah, yeah," I cut in, smirking. "I get it."
Her blush deepened.
But she didn't take it back.
And somehow, that meant more than anything.
"I'd… like you to come to my show, I guess. You don't have to be a regular or anything, just drop by once?," I asked, rubbing the back of my neck.
She froze for a heartbeat, eyes widening just slightly. Then her lips curved into a soft, careful smile.
"I… I'd like that," she said quietly, voice almost trembling.
Her face got redder as she glanced down, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'll come. Just… once, like you said."
I smirked faintly, letting the corner of my mouth twitch.
That small, hesitant agreement felt heavier than any promise she'd made before.
I took her hands gently in mine.
"Thanks, Yamashita. You're the best."
Her eyes widened, and her blush deepened, creeping up past her ears. She looked torn between pulling away and just giving in.
"…Y-You're welcome, Shiba-kun," she murmured, voice soft and barely above a whisper.
Then she puffed out her cheeks slightly, trying to mask her embarrassment.
"A-anyway… let's get back to studying!" she said, voice tinged with a pout, shoving the notebooks toward me.
The study session was quite long, but efficient. Yamashita explained the tricky problem slowly, pointing at each step in her notebook, her voice soft yet very teacherly.
I followed along, nodding as it clicked. "Ah… okay, got it," I said, flipping the page.
She smiled faintly, clearly relieved. "See? You just needed to break it down step by step."
After solving a few more problems, I closed my notebook. "Alright, that's enough for today. Thanks, Yamashita."
She packed her things, glancing at me expectantly.
I leaned back in my chair, smirking slightly.
"Hey… you wanna stay and watch a movie? I've got some time before I need to do anything else."
Yamashita blinked.
She hesitated for a moment, playing with the edge of her sleeve like she always did when she was nervous.
"…I-I guess… I could," she said quietly, voice gentle and a little unsure.
Her lips curved into a small, shy smile.
"Just… one movie?" she added, as if confirming the rules to herself before agreeing.
I chuckled.
"Yeah. You can pick one while I go make some coffee. And I got some popcorn," I replied.
Yamashita, whose cheeks were still a little pink, nodded shyly, a silent consent.
"Okay… I'll pick something light," she murmured.
While I headed to the kitchen, she scrolled through the options for a moment before settling on Cha‑Cha, a recent romance about a free-spirited artist falling for a shy guy.
By the time I came back with two mugs of coffee and a bowl of popcorn, the opening scene was already playing.
Yamashita glanced up at me from the couch, still a little embarrassed.
"Um… I hope this one's okay," she said softly, patting the seat next to her. "It looked… sweet."
"It's fine," I shrugged, sitting down next to her on the couch.
Watching a romance movie with a girl after a study session. Guess that's what people call a green flag.
The movie played on. Our shoulders brushed lightly from time to time, and Yamashita kept letting out tiny squeaks whenever something overly sweet happened on screen.
At some point, just to mess with her, I slipped an arm around her shoulders.
She stiffened immediately. "S-Shiba-kun…!" she protested in a small voice, cheeks turning bright red.
"What? I felt like it," I smirked. "You'll survive."
After a second, the protest faded into a quiet sigh, and she didn't move away.
"Yeah, you actually like it. Liar," I chuckled.
Yamashita's eyes widened, her expression turning almost offended. Before I could react, she leaned in and planted a quick, shy kiss on my cheek.
Then she grabbed my head and yanked it down until it landed in her lap.
Wait—what?
She immediately looked away, cheeks burning, fingers nervously brushing through my hair like she didn't know what else to do with them.
"J-Just… shut up, Shiba-kun," she mumbled, voice small and flustered. "E-enjoy the lap pillow…"
And somehow, my place felt a little warmer than usual.