Sona didn't say anything at first. She just stared at the clipboard like it had personally offended her. Still pink around the ears. Still standing there.
I leaned on the booth table, casually. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're enjoying my company."
Her eyes flicked to mine. "I'm tolerating it."
"Ouch." I clutched my chest, mock-hurt. "And here I was, thinking we had a moment."
"Mishima-san, we've only had a few. All of them are mildly irritating."
"Yet," I said, "you're still here. I must be growing on you."
Her lips twitched. A crack in the wall. Barely there, but real.
And then—like a cold gust of professionalism—Tsubaki Shinra appeared.
"Kaichou," she said, appearing from behind the booth like a well-dressed ghost, eyes calm and expression as flat as a spreadsheet. "We need to speak with Class 3-A about their game booth. They appear to be violating fire safety guidelines."
"Of course," Sona replied, flipping her clipboard back to full efficiency mode.
But her eyes shifted to me for just a second longer than necessary.
Tsubaki followed her gaze. Then looked at me. Then at Sona. Then back at me.
I gave her my best polite heir smile. "Shinra-senpai. A pleasure meeting you."
She nodded, cool as ever. "Likewise, Mishima-san."
Sona was already starting to walk away when I called out, "I'll see you around, Shitori-san. Unless you're avoiding me, in which case… I'll find you anyway."
That made her pause. One foot forward, the clipboard halfway up.
She didn't look back. But she did speak.
"I don't avoid challenges, Mishima-san."
Then she walked off with Tsubaki, the two of them a perfect contrast—ice and glass, composure squared.
I stood there for a second, grinning to myself.
Cue chaos. Again.
Not even five minutes after Sona and Tsubaki disappeared into the crowd like a pair of overqualified secret agents, I heard it.
"SHE TOUCHED MY HAND, BRO!"
Oh god. Not again.
I turned just in time to see Issei sprinting across the festival grounds like he was being chased by divine judgment, arms flailing, face red, and heart probably seconds from exploding. Matsuda and Motohama trailed behind him, waving a suspiciously large stuffed bear and a broken fan.
"IT WAS A SIGN!" Issei yelled. "SHE HANDED ME CHANGE—AND OUR FINGERS BRUSHED!"
"You're delusional," Matsuda huffed. "But I respect it."
"I've already picked out the wedding bento," Motohama added. "I mean, I think it's legal to marry a shrine maiden?"
They zoomed past me like a hormonal hurricane. I didn't even bother dodging. At this point, it was easier to let the stupidity wash over me.
I blinked slowly. "That's it. I'm cutting them off."
Before I could even reset my sanity, someone cleared their throat nearby. Soft. Calm. Polite.
I turned.
And just like that—
There she was.
Koneko Toujou
Koneko Toujou.
Small. Pale. Cat-like aura of pure, unbothered energy.
She stared up at me with that blank expression, holding a stick of dango like it was the only thing tethering her to this mortal plane.
"…You're Leon Mishima," she said.
I blinked. "I am."
She nodded once. Slowly. Like she was processing it and filing me into a mental drawer labeled 'Mildly Suspicious'.
Silence.
She kept chewing. I kept waiting.
"…Can I help you with something?"
"You smell weird."
"...Excuse me?"
"Not bad. Just weird." She shrugged like that cleared it up, then took another bite of her dango.
And okay—real talk?
She was adorable.
Like, weaponized cute.
The way she deadpanned everything with those soft golden eyes, that fluffy white hair, and her tiny hands holding that snack like it was her life savings?
Yeah. I was in danger.
Not the "battle to the death" kind. The "I will give you all my money and snacks if you just blink slowly at me again" kind.
Focus, man. She could still throw you through a wall.
I smiled awkwardly. "I'm going to assume that's not a personal attack."
There was a pause. Koneko regarded me for a moment, like she was trying to figure something out.
"…You're different," she said, quieter now.
"Different?"
"Not like the others,"
I was about to ask what she meant by that, but she suddenly looked up at me.
It was… unexpected.
I stood there for a second, feeling like I was being judged on some level I wasn't sure I was ready for. But before I could say anything else, she did something that caught me completely off guard.
Koneko reached up—slowly—and gently tapped my arm, almost as if asking for permission.
"...What's this?" I asked, confused.
Her eyes met mine, and for the first time, there was a hint of something different in them—curiosity, maybe?
"Pat my head."
The words were simple, but there was a quiet expectation in her gaze.
"...Seriously?"
Koneko gave a small nod, and I couldn't help but laugh. She was serious, and somehow, that made her even cuter.
So, I did.
I placed my hand on her head—soft, fluffy hair under my fingers—and gave her a quick pat.
Her eyes closed for a moment, and she let out a tiny, barely audible hum of contentment.
For just a split second, it felt like time slowed down. Like everything in this chaotic festival just… paused.
She pulled back after a moment, eyes blinking up at me with that same quiet, unbothered expression.
"…Thanks," she mumbled.
And then, just like that, she turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, thoroughly confused, yet oddly… content.
"Different, huh?" I muttered to myself, shaking my head.
Honestly, I had no idea what just happened. But whatever it was, it was nice.