"Illogical," she hissed to herself.
"Rank 2 again. The derivation in Question 5 was flawless. Where did I lose the variance? Is Tsukishiro's computation speed simply superior?"
She gripped the fence. She was not the cool, calm girl from the classroom. She was a perfectionist who had just realized she was second best.
Then, she sensed a presence and turned her head sharply. Her eyes locked onto Albert. Silence stretched between them. The wind blew a stray lock of hair across her face, but she did not blink.
"Atherton," she stated. It was not a greeting; it was an identification.
"Himuro-san," Albert whispered. "I... I was just leaving."
He pushed off the fence while keeping his head down. He needed to escape because he could not handle another interaction.
"Wait." Her voice was cold, halting him in his tracks.
Leina walked slowly from her spot to where Albert had been standing. Not looking at him. She looked through the fence, down at the spot Albert had been staring at.
Then she saw Leo and Maya. The Prince and the Princess, laughing in the golden afternoon light.
Leina stared at them for five seconds. Then she turned to Albert. Her gaze was piercing. She remembered the water in his eyes from the classroom.
Leina remembered the lie he told the classmates. And now, she saw him hiding on a roof while his friends waited below.
"It is a highly inefficient system," Leina said. Her voice was flat, devoid of warmth, but heavy with understanding.
"What is?" Albert asked, his voice trembling.
"The equilibrium below," she gestured with her chin. "They are compatible variables. The environment supports their union. The student body anticipates it. Yet, the reaction fails to initiate."
She looked Albert dead in the eye.
"Because of a single, intrusive variable blocking the pathway. You."
Albert flinched. It was brutal. It was the truth.
"You are correct," Albert said, his voice barely audible.
"Why?" Leina asked. She was not mocking him. She was asking for the logic. "If you are aware you are the obstruction, why do you remain in the equation?"
"Because I'm selfish," Albert whispered.
"Incorrect," Leina cut him off. "If you were selfish, you would force yourself between them to prevent the union. But you are not doing that. You are standing here, in the cold, observing them."
She tilted her head.
"They are not dating because they are afraid that changing the group dynamic will result in your ejection. They are prioritizing your stability over their romantic progression. Is that the correct assessment?"
"Yeah," Albert choked out. The lump in his throat was back. "They're too kind. They're suppressing their own feelings just so I don't get hurt. And seeing that... seeing them hurt themselves to protect me... it hurts more than being alone."
Leina stared at him. Her expression did not soften, but the tension in her shoulders dropped.
"You are a fool," she said.
"I know," Albert responded.
"But," Leina added while looking back at the couple below, "you are a logical fool. You have calculated that your pain is a necessary sacrifice for their happiness. I respect the commitment to the variables, even if the outcome is miserable."
Albert could not hold it anymore. The wall he had built cracked.
He looked up at the sky. The gray clouds were heavy. A single drop of rain from the earlier shower clung to the metal pole above them, trembling, fighting gravity. He needed to stop the tears and distract his brain with data. Any data.
"See that droplet?" Albert said, his voice shaking violently.
Leina followed his gaze. "The water?"
"I'm curious..." Albert stammered, tears finally spilling over the rim of his glasses.
He did not wipe them. He couldn't. If he moved his hands, he felt like he would shatter so he just stared at the math, using it as a lifeline.
"I'm curious about the time when a droplet drops to the ground. Since... since the height is fixed... and gravitational acceleration is constant at 9.8 meters per second squared..."
He took a ragged, wet breath. "The time of descent equals the square root of twice the height divided by the acceleration... it should be identical for every discrete mass of water. But... is it?"
Tears dripped off his chin, landing on the dirty concrete.
"Is the duration of the fall maintaining strict constancy? Or are there second-order systemic effects? Perhaps related to minute changes at the detachment point? Or diminishing surface tension? That would cause... a measurable temporal diminution..."
He was rambling. He was using science as a tourniquet to stop the emotional bleeding.
It was pathetic. He knew it was pathetic. But he couldn't stop.
Leina watched him. She stood rigid, her hands clenched at her sides. She watched the tears sliding down the face of the boy who had tried so hard to pretend he was fine.
She felt a sharp, unfamiliar tightness in her chest. It was not logic. It was sympathy.
She wanted to help him. But she did not know how.
She was not Maya; she could not offer a warm smile or a hug. She was not Leo; she could not make a joke to lighten the mood.
She was Himuro Leina. She only knew numbers and efficiency.
Input:Subject is crying. The subject is isolated. Standard consolation protocols (hugging/pity) will likely damage Subject's pride further.
She needed a solution that allowed him to cry without feeling like a charity case.
"I do not understand," Leina said. Her voice cut through his rambling, sharp and clear.
Albert stopped. He hiccuped as he wiped his eyes with his sleeve, shame washing over him.
"Sorry. I'm just... talking nonsense. I'm weird. I'll go."
"I do not understand the physics," Leina corrected loudly while stepping in his path.
"My focus is Pure Mathematics. I intend to defeat Tsukishiro Shiina in calculation, not in abstract theory. Your terminology regarding 'surface tension' and 'temporal diminution' is beyond my current scope."
She looked away and stared hard at the chain-link fence. Her posture was stiff.
"However," she said, her voice slightly faster than usual, "I observe that verbalizing this 'nonsense' stabilizes your emotional state."
Albert looked at her, his eyes red and swollen.
"What?"
"You are overflowing," Leina stated.
She refused to look at him, focusing intensely on a rust spot on the railing.
"You have no output terminal. If you continue to store this data internally, you will suffer a catastrophic system failure. It is... not good to watch."
"I require a distraction," she lied.
"Being Rank 2 has caused significant mental stress. I need to clear my mind. Listening to your incomprehensible science ramblings might serve as suitable white noise. It's... like listening to static on a radio. It helps me focus."
Albert blinked. The tears had stopped flowing, replaced by confusion. He was not stupid. He ran the logic instantly.
That makes no sense. If she wants a distraction, she could read a book. She could listen to music. Listening to a crying guy talk about fluid dynamics is the worst possible way to relax. There is zero benefit for her. The trade is completely uneven. She gives me her time, and I give her... boredom?
He looked at her.
She was still looking away, her ear tips turning a bright, betraying pink.
I see now. She made herself sound selfish but I know. She's trembling slightly, probably terrified I would call her bluff. She was not being logical. It is Kindness. She was inventing a ridiculous excuse to stay with me, just so I wouldn't have to be alone.
"Himuro-san," Albert whispered.
"You'd be bored. I'm Rank 2001. You're Rank 21. It's a bad trade."
"I decide what is a bad trade!" Leina snapped, finally looking back at him. Her eyes were fierce, almost angry, desperate to keep her strict persona intact.
"Do not misunderstand! I am not offering to be your 'buddy.' I am offering a contract. You may vent your illogical science fiction theories to me. In exchange, I will use your voice to... calibrate my patience. It is a mutually beneficial arrangement."
She crossed her arms, trying to look imperious, but she just looked like a clumsy girl trying to be a hero.
"Do you accept? Or do you intend to waste more of my time?"
Albert stared at her. She was strict and cold. She called his passion "static."
But she was the only person in the entire school who had seen him break, and instead of walking away, she had built a clumsy, illogical bridge to reach him. A small, genuine smile—the first one in weeks—touched Albert's lips.
You're a terrible liar, Himuro-san, Albert thought. But he nodded.
"Yeah," Albert whispered as he wiped his glasses on his shirt. "I accept the contract."
"Good." Leina let out a breath she had been holding. Her shoulders relaxed.
She turned back to the railing and leaned against it, but she stayed close to him.
"Then continue," she commanded softly. "You were hypothesizing about the surface tension of the droplet. Explain it to me. And... don't skip the details."