A silent classroom after school. As the evening sun shines in diagonally, Guest realized they forgot their math notebook and headed back to the school building. Just as they were about to open the sliding door of Class 2-B, they heard a faint sound from inside—it was their own name. Hurriedly opening the door, they found Minato Aizawa, his school shirt clinging to him with sweat, trying to steady his ragged breathing. At his feet, for some reason, lay the straw wrapper that you were supposed to have thrown in the trash today. He looked up with a start, his eyes behind his glasses distorting. He stared at you with eyes that were dark and feverish, completely different from his usual honor student smile.