The air in Reina Saeki's laboratory was never still.
Fans hummed, monitors glowed faintly, and papers fluttered under the steady breeze from the air conditioner. For anyone else, the room would feel overwhelming, cluttered with diagrams, star maps, equations scratched onto whiteboards. But for Reina, this was serenity. Each formula was a puzzle piece, each chart a constellation that only she could put into place.
Yet even serenity had its cracks.
Reina sat slouched at her desk, pen dangling in one hand as her sharp eyes stared at the sprawling equations across the board. Normally, her mind cut through numbers like a blade. Today, however, it snagged—every calculation leading to the same dead end.
"This isn't right," she murmured, tapping the board with the back of her pen. "No matter how it loops, it breaks."
Her expression was calm, but a subtle furrow tugged at her brow.
From the corner of the room, Himari peeked up from the tea tray she was preparing. She had learned the rhythms of Reina's moods. That faint crease meant frustration, though Reina would never call it that aloud.
Before Himari could speak, a knock rapped against the lab door.
Reina didn't move. Her focus remained on the board, as though sheer will might untangle the paradox before her. Himari sighed softly, dusted her hands on her apron, and went to open the door.
"Welcome, Fujimoto-senpai!" Himari greeted warmly.
Arisa stepped inside, her presence as calm as always, carrying a few biology journals. Her sharp eyes scanned the whiteboard immediately, noting the scattered vectors and collapsed formulas.
"You're troubled," she said plainly.
Reina finally turned, tilting her head slightly. "…Confused," she corrected. The word was clipped, but weight lingered beneath it.
Arisa moved closer, resting her books on a side table. "What paradox?"
Reina gestured to the board. "Artificial gravity. When accelerated toward relativistic collapse, the energy distribution contradicts itself. My hypothesis predicts stability, but the math rejects it. It's as though the universe itself forbids the state."
Her voice was steady, but Himari caught the faint irritation under her calm mask.
Arisa studied the formulas. She was brilliant, but astrophysics wasn't her expertise. After a long pause, she shook her head gently. "This is outside my depth. My field doesn't cross these stars."
For a flicker, disappointment crossed Reina's eyes. She turned away slightly, lips pressing into a thin line. She hadn't realized until now how much she wanted another mind to meet her halfway.
Arisa, noticing, spoke softly. "But I know where you might find those who will at least try. My club."
Reina blinked. "Your… club?"
"The Independent Research Society," Arisa explained. "We're small, but each member carries a fire. Different fields, different minds. I can't promise you answers… but you might find reflection. Resonance."
Himari's face lit up instantly. "That sounds perfect for Reina-chan!"
Reina crossed her arms. Clubs were noise, distractions. She avoided them for a reason. "…If I refuse?" she asked.
"Then nothing changes," Arisa replied calmly. "But if you come… perhaps something will."
The silence stretched between them. Finally, Reina exhaled, eyes narrowing. "…I'll go. But only once."
"Good," Arisa said with the faintest smile.
Himari clapped her hands. "Yay! I'm coming too!"
By evening, the north building corridors were quiet, save for the echo of their steps. The plaque at the far door read: Independent Research Society.
Arisa slid it open. Warm air greeted them, carrying the scent of spices and the faint buzz of electronics. Unlike Reina's sterile lab, this room lived—tables cluttered with strange tools, half-finished projects, and books stacked precariously.
Three students looked up as Arisa entered with her guests.
The first was tall and wiry, dark hair messy, glasses reflecting the glow of his laptop. Cables and circuit boards sprawled around him like vines.
"That's Nakamura Ren," Arisa introduced. "Programming systems. Don't touch the wires."
Ren lifted his hand briefly in greeting before returning to typing. "Yo."
The second was shorter, with sandy hair and a grin as wide as the hotplate pan he stirred. The smell of curry filled the room.
"Ishikawa Sei," Arisa continued. "Cooking experiments."
sei waved with his spoon. "Nice to meetcha! Want to try prototype curry later?"
The last was a girl by the window, neat and precise, flipping through thick textbooks. Charts covered her desk, perfectly aligned. She adjusted her glasses before bowing.
"Takano Mei," Arisa said. "General sciences."
Mei smiled gently. "Welcome."
Reina stood still, hands folded behind her back. Finally, she bowed slightly. "Saeki Reina. Second year. …Please treat me well, senpai."
The word "senpai" tasted strange on her tongue. Heavy. Yet correct.
Arisa's eyes glinted faintly in approval.
Himari set tea while Arisa explained Reina's paradox. Soon, all eyes turned to Reina as she rose to the whiteboard. With sharp strokes, she redrew her equations, her voice calm and crisp.
"This is the contradiction. If artificial gravity approaches relativistic collapse, stability fails. My theory suggests otherwise, but every model rejects it."
She stepped back, arms crossing.
Silence.
Ren pushed his glasses up. "…Looks like an infinite loop error. In code, that's when a system repeats until it crashes. You'd need an interrupt."
Sei squinted at the symbols. "Reminds me of recipes. Some ratios look perfect, but still curdle. Sometimes the ingredient itself won't cooperate. You gotta swap it out."
Mei adjusted her charts. "From chemistry's side, this is like a forbidden compound. No matter how you balance, some reactions just destabilize. Maybe the cosmos has forbidden states."
Reina listened quietly, her gaze unreadable. But inside, her pulse quickened. They weren't solving her paradox—but they were reframing it, bending it into metaphors she hadn't considered. Their languages of code, food, and chemistry brushed against her stars.
For the first time, she felt her thinking shift.
The clock ticked late. Himari cleared cups while the senpai packed away tools.
"Saeki-san," Mei said kindly, "you should join us. You'd fit here."
Daichi grinned. "Yeah! We need a space genius. Plus, I bet you'd like my cooking experiments once you loosen up."
Ren shrugged. "Wouldn't mind running astrophysics simulations."
Arisa met Reina's eyes, silent, steady. No pressure—only invitation.
Reina hesitated. "…I can't."
Sei blinked. "Eh? Why not?"
"My path is elsewhere," Reina said softly. "I work best alone. And besides…" She glanced toward Arisa. "It's your last year. Bonds like this are temporary. Fragile."
The room quieted. Then Mei smiled gently. "We understand. No pressure."
"Door's always open," Daichi added.
Ren muttered, "Figures," but his smirk betrayed no malice.
Arisa only nodded. "Her choice is hers."
Reina exhaled slowly, tension leaving her shoulders. She bowed lightly. "Thank you, senpai. Truly."
The title hung in the air. Heavy. Formal. Distant.
Reina stared at them, lips parting slightly. Then, almost against her own nature, she spoke.
"…No. Don't call me Saeki-san. Or second-year. Or anything distant."
Her voice was calm, but sharper than usual. She looked at each of them in turn, her eyes dark yet steady.
"Call me Reina. Just Reina."
The silence that followed was stunned—not by command, but by the intimacy of the gesture. Reina Saeki, the untouchable genius, lowering her walls even slightly.
Himari's mouth curved into a soft smile, pride shining in her eyes.
Sei chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Alright then, Reina."
Mei's smile warmed. "Reina. Understood."
Ren lifted a hand lazily. "…Reina it is."
Arisa said nothing for a moment, then nodded once. "Very well… Reina."
The name lingered in the air, lighter than titles, heavier than formality. For the first time, Reina didn't feel weighed down by it.
As they walked home, Himari whispered with a grin, "You did it. You opened up."
Reina looked away, a faint color brushing her cheeks. "…It was correct."
But inside, for the first time in years, she didn't feel so alone.