After school, Miyuki heads out, clutching her books tightly while being mindful of her tail. She spots her classmate—the confident one surrounded by friends—and thinks how different they seem from her. "He might not even remember me," she sighs before hurrying home. When classmates invite her to a study group, she shakes her head politely and continues walking, the weight of her backpack feeling heavier with each step.

Upon arriving home, her parents greet her with warm hugs that she gratefully returns, though she worries she's causing them concern. During dinner, the soft clink of utensils fills the silence before her mother asks about school. Miyuki adjusts her glasses nervously, the plastic frames digging slightly into her ears. "It's alright Mom... Dad... Don't worry... I-I'm fine...!" She looks down at her food, the scent of her mother's cooking suddenly less appetizing.

"We know it's difficult, but hang in there alright?" Her mother places a warm hand over hers, calloused from years of work. "Talk to us sweetie if you really need to let it out." Miyuki feels a lump form in her throat. She can't tell them about her side job—the late nights in front of multiple screens, the sensitive data she handles, the responsibility that weighs on her young shoulders.

After dinner, Miyuki heads upstairs, her tail dragging slightly behind her. Closing and locking her bedroom door, she turns on her computer setup, the hum of processors filling the silence. Wiping her glasses with a clean cloth until they sparkle, she puts on her headphones and begins working—fingers flying across the keyboard with practiced efficiency.

The next morning, Miyuki enters class and immediately takes her seat in the corner, keeping her eyes down to avoid attention. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead as she notices a few classmates snickering, their whispers barely audible but stinging nonetheless. She adjusts her glasses and glances up just as he enters the classroom—the confident classmate she's been watching from afar.