Morning sunlight filtered through the tall windows of the hall, painting the rows of students in soft gold. Reina sat in the front row of the senior seats like always. Heads turned. Phones were half-hidden but definitely pointed. She kept her face calm—calm and practiced—but inside she was watching a dozen CCTV feeds through the contact lens tucked behind her iris. Little squares of corridors, classrooms, and the cafeteria scrolled across her vision like a quiet movie.
Shiro, her white cat, was supposed to be the clever one. Reina imagined the cat sitting primly, calculating the proper angle to beg for snacks. In reality Shiro was sprawled on the couch at home, belly up, snoring through the morning sun. Reina smirked at the thought and tried not to get lost in it. Distractions were dangerous during assemblies.
The principal droned about discipline and upcoming examinations. The usual. Students shuffled, murmured. Phones buzzed. When the bell finally rang, the hall exhaled all at once. People stood, backpacks swung, and classmates bumped elbows. Reina blinked, switching her attention back to the room.
A hand tapped the edge of her shoulder—gentle, formal. A student council member leaned close, speaking into her ear with the soft, rehearsed tone of someone carrying a message from authority. "Principal wants to see you for a moment. Could you stay, please?"
Reina blinked, thrown off. Nobody ever called her out like this. She opened her mouth to refuse, to say she had plans, but her voice came out a little quieter than she meant. "Uh—okay."
They walked down the familiar carpeted corridor, past trophy cases and faded banners. The principal's office smelled of old paper and lemon cleaner. The principal looked up from behind the big desk, gave Reina a smile that was almost a grin. It had the kind of cheerful tension that meant scheming rather than complimenting.
"Reina," the principal said, leaning back. "Good timing. Sit, please."
Reina sat. She folded her hands like she usually did when she was about to be asked something inconvenient. "What's up?"
The principal chuckled softly. "We're planning an orientation for the new transfer student during the semester break. We want a small committee to welcome them, show them around, and help them settle in. I'd like you to be one of the committee members."
Reina nearly fell out of her chair. Her shoulders stiffened, and her first instinct was to say no—loud, dramatic, final. "No way. Daga, koto aru!" she blurted, doing an exaggerated fist-pose in her head like some ridiculous anime hero. She could practically hear the dramatic sting.
The principal raised an eyebrow. "You refuse?"
"Yes." Simple, curt, final. She remembered the camping event—the late nights, the planning chaos, the way she'd ended up managing more than her share. She wanted a break. She wanted to go back to her couch and watch Shiro nap forever.
The principal didn't look angry. He looked amused. "We thought you might say that. But before you close the door, there's one more thing."
Reina's chest tightened. "What."
"We're including Shion on the committee."
Reina felt that tiny, traitorous twitch in her face. For a half-second, the world narrowed to the single name. Shion. The way his voice had an annoying way of sitting in her head. The way he'd smiled at the last school festival like everything was a secret. Her cheeks heated without permission.
She tried to be indifferent. "Huh. That's—fine."
The principal's grin softened into something like approval. "Perfect. Shion once helped with a transfer student before; he's capable and thoughtful. With you and him together, the new student will be in excellent hands."
Reina squinted, searching his face for any hint that this was a trap. No obvious traps. Only that steady, knowing principal smile. She could almost hear the student council member holding their breath outside the door.
"Do you want a list of responsibilities?" the principal asked. "Orientation tour, introducing them to clubs, a small welcome event on their first weekend—nothing too strenuous. We thought a leadership pair might help balance things."
Reina weighed the options in her head. Refusing would make it official; accepting would drag her into more organizing. But Shion being there changed the equation. Maybe having him around would make the awkward bits endurable—or at least tolerable.
"Okay," she said before she thought too much. Her voice came out small, edged with something she'd never admit out loud. "I'll do it."
The principal clapped once, delighted. "Excellent. I'll tell Shion and the council. Thank you, Reina. We appreciate your help."
She left the office with a lightness that felt suspiciously like relief. Outside, the hall buzzed with students trading stories about tests and lunch menus. The sunlight made everything brighter, and Reina realized she was smiling without meaning to.
She pulled out her phone as she walked—more out of habit than need—and typed a quick message to Shiro in her head: Don't you dare look smug when this gets annoying.
At the same time, she felt that small, unfamiliar warmth at the thought of Shion joining her. It wasn't fireworks or anything dramatic. Just… an odd calm, like two people walking side by side in a quiet corridor, both pretending they hadn't planned it.
Her phone buzzed almost instantly. A message from the student council: "Thanks, Reina! We'll assign roles tomorrow. Shion already said yes."
Her chest fluttered for a moment. She shoved the phone into her pocket and walked toward the exit, forcing her face back into its usual expression—cool, collected, slightly bored.
As she stepped outside, she glanced up at the sky and pictured Shiro back on the couch, still asleep. Reina sighed, small and amused. Planning the new student reception might be a pain. It might be busy. It might mean long talks and sticky name tags and midnight messages. But with Shion involved… maybe it would be different.
She shrugged. Sometimes a new plan wasn't the end of freedom. Maybe it was just the start of something a little less predictable. And for once, that didn't feel entirely bad.