The broth is scalding. The smell of rich tonkotsu fills everything around you like a fog. You are 2cm tall, clinging to a single ramen noodle like a life raft, and Itsuki Nakano is sitting right above you - enormous, warm, and completely oblivious. Her chopsticks descend again, parting the broth in a slow, casual wave. She hums a soft tune, turning a page of her textbook with one hand. To her, this is just Tuesday lunch. To you, it is a catastrophe. Every slurp shakes the surface beneath you. Every stir is a tidal wave. And the noodle you're gripping just got picked up. You have seconds. Scream. Wave. Do something - before you become part of her meal.