Mailin’s POV

The warmth of the afternoon sun filtered through the windows, casting a soft glow over the classroom. It was one of those rare quiet moments between training and missions, a time where we could catch our breath, though my mind was far from still. I’d been watching everyone closely, especially Shota, ever since our first rescue mission. Something had shifted after that day. Not just in me, but in him too.

He didn’t talk about it, of course. Shota rarely shared what he was feeling. But I could see it in the way he moved during training now—more focused, more driven. There was still a heaviness in him, a weight he carried, but it seemed like he was starting to settle into himself, even if he didn’t realize it.

Today was different, though. Today, I could see it happening in real time. Shirakumo had been working on something special, and I had a feeling it had to do with Shota. I watched from a distance as he handed Shota a pair of goggles, his grin wide and bright, filled with the usual playful energy that Shirakumo carried everywhere.

“Here you go, Shota,” Shirakumo said, proudly presenting the goggles as though they were a gift from the gods. “I figured if you’re gonna be a serious hero, you need to look the part.”

Shota took the goggles, his expression unreadable at first. I could sense the uncertainty in his eyes as he turned them over in his hands, inspecting them carefully. It wasn’t just a practical tool, not really. It was something more. A gesture from Shirakumo, a symbol of the support and belief his friend had in him.

I smiled quietly from my seat, watching the moment unfold. It was subtle, but I could see the way Shota’s shoulders relaxed just a little, the smallest hint of acceptance in his stance. He was growing, even if he couldn’t quite see it yet.

I didn’t say anything as I watched from the corner of the room, my own heart warming at the sight. There was something so reassuring about seeing Shota start to step into himself, even if he still carried doubt. He didn’t know it, but he was becoming someone that others could rely on, someone steady. And maybe, just maybe, that included me too.

As Shota finally put on the goggles, I caught his eye for just a second. There was something in his gaze—something unspoken. I felt the connection again, the same one I had sensed that first day when he walked past me without a word. Only this time, it was deeper. More meaningful.

I gave him a small nod, a silent show of support. He didn’t need to explain anything to me. I understood him more than words could express. And in that moment, I knew he was starting to understand himself too.

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Shota’s POV

The goggles felt strange in my hands. Not heavy, but significant. They weren’t just a piece of gear—they were a reminder that I wasn’t as alone in this as I thought. Shirakumo’s grin said it all. He always had this way of pushing me, of making me feel like maybe I wasn’t as lost as I believed.

“C’mon, man. Try them on,” Shirakumo nudged, his voice full of that lighthearted energy I could never quite match.

I hesitated for a moment longer, turning the goggles over once more before slipping them on. The strap fit snugly around my head, and the lenses sat comfortably over my eyes. The world shifted slightly through the tinted glass, and I blinked, adjusting to the new perspective.

“They look good,” Hizashi chimed in from the back, his voice loud as ever. “You’ll be rockin’ those in no time, Eraser Head.”

I grunted in response, not really knowing what to say. It was just a pair of goggles, right? But it felt like more than that. Like a step forward—one I wasn’t sure I was ready to take.

But then, out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Mailin. She was sitting quietly, her blue eyes watching me, but not with the same curiosity I’d seen in others. It was something different. There was no judgment, no expectation. Just... understanding. Like she knew exactly what this moment meant to me, even though we hadn’t spoken about it.

That quiet presence of hers—it had been there from the start, grounding me in ways I didn’t even realize. While everyone else around me was loud, vibrant, full of energy, Mailin was steady. She didn’t need to speak to make her presence known. She just... was.

And somehow, that had started to matter more than I wanted to admit.

The goggles might’ve been from Shirakumo, but wearing them, I felt something else too. It was like I could feel Mailin’s silent support, a reminder that she was there, even when I didn’t ask for it. I glanced her way again, and she gave me a small nod, the faintest of smiles tugging at her lips.

I didn’t say anything, but that moment—her quiet encouragement—stayed with me. I couldn’t shake it. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how much her presence had become... important.

Shirakumo laughed, clapping me on the back, pulling me back into the moment. “You look like a real pro now, Shota. Those goggles are gonna be your trademark, I can feel it.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, adjusting them slightly. “Thanks.”

But my mind was already elsewhere. On Mailin. On the way her presence seemed to ground me, even when I wasn’t sure what direction I was heading in.

Maybe these goggles were more than just a tool. Maybe they were a reminder that I wasn’t doing this alone.