"Did he just ask her to take a picture?" Senaro thought, his internal commentary laced with disbelief. "Does he even know how to talk to girls?"


    To their collective astonishment, Onaka nodded casually. "Yeah, sure," she replied, her tone light and unbothered. "Thanks."


    The boys exchanged incredulous whispers. "Did she just agree... just like that?"


    "Unbelievable," muttered someone under their breath, the disbelief spreading through their ranks like wildfire.


    Onaka offered Nehora a small smile. “Send me the picture when you get a chance, okay?”


    “Got it!” Nehora replied, his excitement practically overflowing. Pulling out his phone with quick, deliberate movements, he sent the photo to Onaka, his triumphant grin glowing brighter than ever.


    "Delete that picture from your phone, Nehora," Seko said suddenly, his tone much more serious than his personality.


    Nehora paused mid-scroll and frowned. "Why? It''s just a picture of a friend."


    Seko shot him a look, his gaze intense. "Because you can’t have girls’ pictures on your phone. people would think In bad way once they know about the picture."


    Nehora shrugged, unconcerned. "So what? like I cares what people think? She’s my friend. I’m not deleting it."


    Seko blinked, surprised by Nehora’s defiant response. After a beat, he smirked. "Well, if you''re not going to delete it, then send it to me too. She’s my friend too."


    Nehora raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Alright, I can do that." Without hesitation, he forwarded the picture to Seko.


    The others in the room exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of amusement and quiet curiosity, but before anything else could be said, Onaka spoke up again.


    "No, Nehora, you can  share this picture anyone else, But not with him." Onaka said firmly, her tone serious.


    "Why not? He''s your friend too, so why can''t I?" Nehora replied, puzzled.


    Onaka met his gaze, her eyes narrowing just a touch. "I don’t remember to being a friend with perverts." she said coolly.


    "Who are you calling a pervert.?" Seko snapped, his irritation rising.


    "Who else? You, of course pervert," Onaka said, giving Seko a pointed look.


    Seko’s face darkened. "Why you?"


    Nehora, seeing the tension building, tried to calm things down. "Okay, okay. I won’t share it. So can we just stop, please?"


    Seko, still frustrated, grumbled under his breath. "Hah, Nehora, how could you? Traitor."


    "Huh? A traitor? Me? How?" Nehora asked, clearly confused.


    Meanwhile, Oarasaki, who had been standing seeing everything silently. She hadn’t been part of the earlier conversation but had observed everything from the sidelines. , She  also wanna to take one picture to but she can''t because of her behaviour and nature.


    Nehora looked around at the group, a playful glint in his eyes, "It’d be better if we could all take a picture together."


    The boy''s exchanged glances, but before anyone could respond, Osima excused herself, stepping outside the lab to take a phone call.


    Nehora’s eyes lit up, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Now’s our chance!" he declared. "Everyone, come here! Let’s take a photo together!"


    The girls turned to him, surprised.


    "Nehora, why are you wearing a suit?" Nisa asked, eyeing him with a raised eyebrow. "Don’t you remember…?"


    Nehora waved his hand dismissively. "We don’t have time for that! Hurry up, everyone! Let’s take the picture together before Osima sense comes back!"


    Everyone exchanged glances. There was a mixture of confusion and reluctant amusement, but Nehora’s energy was contagious, and the group began to gather around him.


    "Okay, okay, fine," Nisa said, rolling her eyes, but her lips curled into a smile as she stepped toward the group. "But this better be worth it."


    Nehora was already setting up the phone, the camera timer ticking down. But as he looked around, he realized something.


    "Hey, what’s the deal, Oarasaki?" Nehora called, noticing the orasaki standing still, refusing to join. "Come on! Hurry up!"


    Oarasaki, still standing off to the side, shook her head. "I’m not going to be part of that silly picture."


    Nehora wasn’t about to let that slide. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he walked up to her. "You can’t be left out! Come on, Oarasaki! We’re all in this together."


    Before Oarasaki could protest further, Nehora grabbed her arm and pulled her into the picture frame. The phone was already set up on the table, the timer ticking down, and he wasn’t about to miss this opportunity.


    "How dare you touch me without permission!" Oarasaki exclaimed, her face flushing with anger.Stolen story; please report.


    But the camera clicked just as Oarasaki swung a punch toward Nehora, her fist missing him by inches and landing into his suit cornore side. The others stood silently in the background, some amused, some slightly concerned.


    The camera clicked once more, freezing the chaotic moment.


    At that exact moment, the door opened, and Osima returned from her phone call, pausing at the sight. She raised an eyebrow.


    "Huh? Why are you wearing a suit?" Osima asked, clearly confused and slightly concerned


    Before Nehora could explain, Oarasaki, still visibly upset, stepped forward. "Nehora… you—"


    "Wait, wait! I’ll take it off!" Nehora quickly interrupted, holding up his hands defensively as if to avoid further confrontation.


    The air crackled with tension as Oarasaki, her temper flaring, lunged at Nehora. Her fist swung forward, fueled by frustration, and connected squarely with his sleek, high-tech suit. But instead of the satisfying impact she expected, her punch landed with a dull thud. The suit absorbed the blow effortlessly, leaving not so much as a scuff mark.


    Oarasaki yelped and pulled back her hand, wincing as the sharp sting radiated through her fingers.


    “Are you alright? Did it hurt?” Nehora asked, his tone dripping with concern as he reached for her hand to inspect it.


    “Oh, no, it feels amazing,” Oarasaki snapped sarcastically, shaking her hand out. “You should try it too sometime—a fractured bone is just delightful.”


    Nehora blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Wait, you actually enjoy it? That’s kinda weird, you know.”


    “Of course it hurts, you idiot!” she barked, glaring at him.


    Nehora tilted his head, his expression as sincere as it was maddening. "Okay, now I’m confused. Does it hurt or feel good? You should decide first, because you''re saying both things at the same time."


    Oarasaki’s face turned red with irritation. “It hurts, you absolute moron!”


    “Alright, alright, calm down!” Nehora held up his hands in mock surrender, a mischievous grin creeping across his face. “But seriously, you should make up your mind next time. Mixed signals are hard to follow.”


    “I’ll show you mixed signals,” she growled, raising her fist again.


    Before things could escalate further, Osima stepped into the fray, her calm yet commanding presence instantly diffusing the tension. She placed a firm hand on Nehora’s shoulder, her sharp gaze cutting through his playful demeanor.


    “Nehora, take that suit off. We don’t need any more accidents,” Osima said, her tone leaving no room for argument.


    Nehora pouted but began fiddling with the suit’s controls. “Alright, fine. Party’s over, I guess.”


    Turning to Oarasaki, Osima softened her expression, giving her an empathetic smile. “And you, be more careful next time. It’s easy to hurt someone, even unintentionally.”


    Oarasaki’s shoulders slumped slightly as the anger drained out of her. “Sorry, Sensei,” she muttered, looking down. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”


    Osima’s voice gentled even further as she pulled a small first-aid kit from her pocket. “No need to apologize. Just remember, your actions have consequences, and we all want to stay safe.”


    She carefully took Oarasaki’s injured hand and began wrapping it in a soft bandage. Oarasaki winced but didn’t pull away, her pride momentarily taking a backseat to the warmth of Osima’s care.


    “Thank you, Sensei,” Oarasaki said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.


    Osima’s lips curved into a gentle smile. “That’s what I’m here for.”


    Nehora, watching the scene unfold, couldn’t help but break the tender moment. “Man, Sensei, you’ve got magic hands. If I ever get hurt, can I be next?”


    Osima shot him a withering glare, silencing him immediately. Oarasaki couldn’t suppress a small smirk at the sight of Nehora’s sheepish expression.


    As the group began to settle, the chaos slowly gave way to a lighter atmosphere. But in the back of Oarasaki’s mind, one thought lingered next time, she’d make sure to land a proper punch—suit or no suit.


    Osima finished securing the bandage and looked up at the students. "So, did you all come here for your suits?" she asked, her tone casual but with a knowing glance toward Nehora, who seemed eager for whatever was coming next.


    "Suits? Yeah, I want one, Sensei," Nehora replied, his voice full of anticipation. His eyes sparkled with excitement. He had been waiting for this moment—ever since he had learned that the academy provided specialized suits to each student’s abilities, he had been impatient to get his hands on one.


    Osima shook her head with a small, amused smile. "It doesn’t work like that. You need to tell us exactly what kind of suit you want, and we’ll create it for you based on your needs."


    Nehora''s eyes lit up. He hadn’t really thought that far ahead. "I want a fighting suit," he declared eagerly, as though the words had been prepared in his mind for days. He imagined the kind of suit that would let him take on anyone who dared challenge him.


    Osima’s smile didn’t falter. "First, you need to go to Lab-7. Once you''re over from there, you can tell us exactly what kind of suit you want."


    The students blinked at the new direction. Their attention shifted away from the suits and back to their immediate task. Lab-7.


    The group paused, and the realization dawned on them.


    "We totally forgot we came here to find Lab-7," Nisa admitted, a sheepish look crossing her face as she realized their mistake.


    "Oh yeah! And we completely forgot that Katsegawa Sensei is waiting for us there!" Ejiro added, feeling the tension build. He had been so caught up in the excitement of the suits that he hadn’t even thought about the purpose of their visit.


    Kaira frowned, anxiety creeping into her voice. "Oh no, we’re in trouble!"


    Oarasaki, ever the calm one despite her earlier outburst, gave Osima a polite, almost apologetic glance. "Osima Sensei, could you take us to Lab-7? We don’t know the way."


    "Sure, no problem," Osima said, her smile returning. Her ability to stay composed in moments of minor chaos was something the students had come to appreciate. "Follow me."


    "Thank you, Sensei!" Oarasaki said with genuine gratitude before turning to the others. "Everyone, let’s follow Osima Sensei."


    "Yeah, we heard you," Seko muttered under his breath, still trying to hide his nervousness as he followed the group. "You don’t have to say it twice."


    The group began to move, with Osima leading the way down the hall toward Lab-7. Nehora, walking alongside Oarasaki, looked a bit more serious than usual.


    "Hey," Oarasaki said, noticing his silence. "It’s alright. I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me."


    Nehora, in his usual playful manner, glanced sideways at her with a teasing smile. "Nah, I’m not worried about you."


    Oarasaki frowned, clearly irritated by the casualness in his tone. She couldn’t quite tell if he was serious or just trying to get under her skin, as usual.


    Nehora, seeing her reaction, added, "It’s a shame I didn’t get to take pictures with the other suits."


    The students walked a little further before arriving at Lab-7. Katsegawa was waiting outside, leaning against the wall, her arms crossed. She looked slightly impatient, her usual eerie smile stretched across her face.


    "Hey, guys! Look, Katsegawa Sensei is their," Seko said in a low voice, his nerves making him sound almost jumpy.


    Katsegawa’s smile widened when she saw them approach. "Ah, you’re here! I’ve been waiting for you all!" Her tone was disturbingly cheerful, almost too much so, given the circumstances.


    Osima raised an eyebrow at Katsegawa’s demeanor. "Katsegawa, are you alright? You seem a bit... off today."


    "Off? Who said that?" Katsegawa responded in her usual unnerving way. She laughed off the concern, brushing it aside with a wave. "I’m perfectly fine. Why do you ask?"


    The students exchanged uneasy glances, feeling a sense of unease they couldn’t quite shake. Was it just them, or did something seem... wrong?


    Osima, sensing the discomfort, kept things light with a smile. "It’s just that your face looks a little different today."


    "Really?" Katsegawa replied casually, her voice too smooth. "But I always look like this."


    To be continue..........