Lunch break in the east wing was usually Reina Saeki's quietest time of day. While most students filled the cafeteria or lounged around the courtyard, she preferred her own sanctuary—the personal laboratory she had earned through relentless brilliance. Shelves of glass beakers gleamed under the fluorescent lights, papers covered in complex equations lay scattered across the desk, and the hum of a small generator echoed faintly in the background. It was solitude, her favorite companion.
Himari, however, had made herself a permanent guest. She sat across the lab table with her bento box, happily munching on rice balls while Reina wrote down her notes. For Reina, it was a balance she had grown to accept—her equations and Himari's chatter coexisted without clashing too much.
But then came the noise.
At first, it was faint—a shriek, then a chair scraping. Then another shriek, louder this time. Soon, the muffled chaos carried clearly down the hallway from Reina's classroom.
Himari paused mid-bite, blinking toward the door. "Uh… Reina? That… sounds like trouble."
Reina set her pen down, lips pressing into a thin line. "Unnecessary noise during lunch." She stood, brushing off her skirt, as if compelled to restore order by habit rather than curiosity. Himari followed immediately, tugging her bag along.
When they reached the classroom door, the scene unfolded like a poorly rehearsed play: students standing on chairs, others swatting wildly with books, one boy cowering behind the desk, and Ayumi shrieking in the corner while Hana tried to calm her down. In the center of the chaos buzzed the culprit—a single, agitated bee hovering aimlessly by the fluorescent light.
Reina let out a long, tired sigh from the doorway. Of course.
But before she could step in, she sensed something—an aura beside her. A calm presence. Someone observing the same chaos with unshaken poise.
Reina turned slightly. A girl stood there, petite and sharp-eyed, her short hair the color of polished chestnut. Though she wore the same uniform, it seemed subtly different on her, neat yet practical, as if tailored for fieldwork. Her gaze locked onto the bee, but unlike the other students, her eyes gleamed with curiosity, not fear.
She noticed Reina, offering the faintest smile. "Saeki Reina-san, right? Second year, east wing." Her voice was low, steady, precise.
Reina blinked, caught off guard by the recognition. "…Yes."
The girl nodded slightly. "I'm Fujimoto Arisa. Third year. Biology research track. I specialize in entomology and wildlife behavior."
Himari, still clinging to the doorframe, whispered, "E–entomo… what?"
"Study of insects," Reina answered automatically.
Arisa's smile grew. She pointed lightly toward the bee. "So, Saeki-san. What's your opinion of our visitor?"
Reina followed her gaze. The bee hovered with jittery movements, wings catching the light. She crossed her arms. "It's Apis cerana—the Asian honeybee. Not poisonous, but its sting contains melittin peptides that cause localized pain and swelling. It's defensive by nature, not aggressive, unless provoked. Threat level: minimal."
Her voice was crisp, clinical, textbook-perfect.
Arisa's eyes glimmered with interest. "Good assessment. Precise taxonomy too. But you left out a detail." She leaned closer, still keeping her voice even. "Apis cerana is known for forming colonies smaller than Apis mellifera. Their defensive behavior is less about aggression and more about coordinated signals—see how it keeps circling near the light? It's disoriented, not hunting."
Reina's lips twitched. Not quite a smile, but a shift. She respected the addition. "So it's lost, then. Not hostile."
"Exactly."
They turned back to the chaos. Inside the classroom, someone shouted, "Kill it!" and another tried to swat with a math textbook, missing entirely.
Himari buried her face in her hands. "They're gonna destroy the whole classroom at this rate."
Arisa exhaled through her nose, calm as ever. "Shall we?" she asked Reina, her voice neither commanding nor hesitant, just certain—like the answer was obvious.
Reina gave the faintest nod.
And then, without exchanging another word, they moved.
The door creaked as Reina entered first, her steps measured. Arisa followed, not trailing but aligned with her, as though their strides matched by design. The panicked students froze, confusion cutting through the noise at the sight of the two calm figures.
"Everyone, step back from the center," Reina said, her tone flat but firm. Authority without volume.
To their surprise, many obeyed. Perhaps it was the sheer contrast between her calmness and their panic.
Arisa scanned the desks, spotted an empty glass jar from the biology cart, and without needing to explain, Reina was already clearing a space near the bee's flight path.
"On my mark," Arisa murmured.
"Three seconds," Reina replied instantly, calculating the bee's orbit.
As the bee dipped low near the window, Arisa moved with steady precision, raising the jar. The bee darted—and at that exact moment, Reina slid the notebook she had carried under it, a perfect barrier guiding its path. The bee veered directly into the glass jar.
Arisa capped it smoothly, no wasted motion. The coordination was seamless, uncanny—as though they had practiced a hundred times.
The class, wide-eyed, erupted into relieved chatter.
Arisa stepped to the open window, uncapping the jar. She tilted it gently, and the bee, unharmed, buzzed into the open sky. A ripple of silence followed, as if the moment demanded acknowledgment.
Then, Ayumi blurted, "Wha—How did you two—?!"
Hana clapped her hands together, eyes sparkling. "That was amazing! Like, perfect teamwork!"
Kaito muttered from the back, still wide-eyed. "You guys looked… synced. Like robots."
Reina brushed imaginary dust from her sleeve, expression unchanged. "It wasn't complicated."
But Himari, peeking from the door, stifled a giggle. She had seen it—the tiny glimmer in Reina's eyes during the process, the spark of focus that always lit her when solving a problem. And for once, someone else had matched that spark flawlessly.
Arisa turned back to Reina, tilting her head slightly. "Efficient coordination. I appreciate that."
Reina met her gaze. "Likewise."
The class fell into a quiet buzz—not the panicked one from earlier, but a hum of curiosity. They whispered about Reina Saeki, the aloof genius, standing side by side with Fujimoto Arisa, the upperclass prodigy of biology. Different fields, same energy. Two forces that didn't clash but resonated.
And in that moment, to everyone watching, it felt as though the school had just witnessed the beginning of something unusual: the meeting of two geniuses, perfectly in sync.
The lunch bell rang, but no one moved at first. It was as if the room lingered on the image of Reina and Arisa standing shoulder to shoulder, their presence strangely commanding.
Finally, Ayumi broke the spell. "U-uh… thanks, Reina-chan! And, um, Fujimoto-senpai!"
Hana leaned closer to Ayumi, whispering too loudly, "They're like… the same type of person, don't you think?"
"Totally," Ayumi agreed.
Reina pretended not to hear, but her ears tinged faintly pink.
Arisa only gave a small, knowing smile.
As the students filed out, still buzzing about the incident, Reina and Arisa lingered by the window.
"You specialize in physics and engineering, don't you?" Arisa asked.
Reina nodded. "Astrophysics, robotics, chemistry. I don't focus much on field biology."
"And yet you analyzed the bee with precision. Impressive."
Reina blinked, caught off guard by the praise. Compliments usually slid past her, but something about the genuine weight in Arisa's voice made her pause.
She lowered her gaze. "…I only stated facts."
"Facts with clarity. That's a rare skill."
Their eyes met again—no rivalry, no superiority, just respect. Equal minds recognizing each other.
For Reina, it was… unfamiliar. Yet strangely grounding.
And for the first time in a long while, she wondered what it might mean to not be the only one.