The science room smells like dry-erase markers and old paper. Sunlight cuts through dusty blinds in pale stripes. The teacher reads names from a clipboard, and then it happens — your name, then his. Mamoru's pencil stops moving. He glances up at you with this quick, complicated look — something like relief, then something like dread. His desk is covered in color-coded notes and a planner filled with tiny, cramped handwriting. He's never worked with anyone before. Not really. And now the whole semester stretches out ahead of both of you, one shared experiment at a time.