Kanta leaned back in his seat, one arm resting lazily on the window frame. He turned his head toward Lada, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Why do we have so many girls with Russian-sounding names in our class? You, Tanya, Anna... Was that a trend or something?”

Lada shrugged. “Beats me. My mom said ‘Lada’ is the name of some love goddess from a fairytale or something.”

“So you’re not Russian?”

“Do I look Russian to you?”

Kanta gave her an exaggerated once-over, his eyes scanning from her head to her feet before meeting her eyes again. “Nah, not really.”

He paused, his smirk widening. “But with all those comments about the Ukraine war being the U.S.'s fault, you might as well be Russian.”

Lada laughed. “Hey, that was you putting those ideas in my head! Now my dad thinks I’m a communist. Thanks for that.”

She paused, her expression softening. “Though, if I remember right, Tanya’s grandmother was actually Russian. I think that’s who she’s named after.”

“Tanya’s actually Russian? That explains a lot.” Kanta said, nodding knowingly.

Lada shot him a skeptical glance. “Explains what exactly?”

Kanta leaned back, ticking off on his fingers. “Her pale skin, how she’s always serious and doesn’t talk much. Oh, and how she never wears a jacket, even when it’s freezing.”

“Now that you mention it... she is kinda like that.” Lada paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Wait a second—how do you even know she never wears a jacket? What are you, stalking her?”

She looked at him with a smirk. "You creep."

Kanta's eyes glinted mischievously, his smirk still in place. “Maybe I do pay a little extra attention. Not like it's a crime, right?” He shrugged casually. “Anyway, where is she? Haven’t seen her all morning.”

“Probably at morning practice. Basketball, I think,” Lada replied.

Kanta’s eyebrows shot up again. “It’s only the third day of school. Who even has practice this early?”

Before Lada could answer, the door slid open, and Tanya stepped inside. Her usual serious expression was firmly in place, but something was different today—her short gray hair was dyed black, a deep, glossy color that made her seem younger, almost softer, but no less composed.

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Kanta couldn’t help but stare for a moment, captivated. The black hair suited her, framing her face perfectly. On one hand, she looked strikingly beautiful. On the other, he couldn’t help but wonder—why did she dye it? Was it something he said? Had he crossed a line talking about her gray hair?

Tanya walked to her seat without a word. She moved with a quiet grace, her gaze steady, seemingly unaware of the attention. She sat down. Kanta exchanged a glance with Lada. Neither of them spoke.

The morning classes dragged on, mostly filled with the usual introductions and syllabus reviews. Tanya hadn’t spoken much, her focus elsewhere. Eventually, it was the fourth period—art class. Kim split off to the calligraphy class, while Lada, Tanya, and Kanta headed toward the music room.

Kanta and Lada walked into the room together, choosing seats right in the front row. Kanta glanced around, eyeing the instruments scattered about, his gaze lingering on the grand piano directly in front of them, its polished surface gleaming under the lights.

“Remind me why I’m in this class again?” Kanta muttered.

Lada grinned. "Because you can’t draw, and calligraphy drives you crazy."

Kanta opened his mouth to retort, but his words caught in his throat as Tanya stood up. She glanced at the teacher, who gave her a nod. Bowing slightly in acknowledgment, she moved to the grand piano, adjusting the bench with precision. Her fingers hovered above the keys, ready, as if the music was already playing in her mind.

Kanta shook his head, smiling. "Nah, wrong."

Before Lada could question further, Tanya’s movement caught their attention. Kanta’s eyes softened as he watched her. "It’s because I’ve always wanted to see her play," he said, his voice quieter, almost a whisper.

Tanya's fingers hovered above the keys for a moment before pressing down, her black hair falling slightly forward as she played, a hauntingly beautiful melody drifting through the room. The notes were soft, melancholic. Kanta watched her, captivated. Her eyes, usually so guarded, seemed to shine with an inner light. The corners of her lips curved slightly, as if she was allowing herself a rare moment of joy. There was something in the way her shoulders relaxed, the fluidity of her movements, that spoke of contentment—a quiet happiness that hid beneath the sadness of the notes.

Lada was silent, her gaze softening as she watched Tanya. Her smirk was replaced by something gentler, a quiet appreciation for the beauty of the moment.

Kanta felt his chest tighten, a warmth spreading through him as he watched. The music seemed to wrap around her, and for once, she looked at peace. It wasn't just the melody—it was the way she seemed to lose herself in the music, her fingers dancing across the keys with a tenderness that made him believe she was happy, even if only for a fleeting moment.

The music flowed, and for that moment, the rest of the world ceased to exist. Kanta leaned back, his eyes fixed on Tanya, the soft smile on her lips making his heart swell. He knew, without words, that this was a side of her she rarely showed—a side he always wanted to see.

When the final note lingered in the air, Tanya looked up, her gaze meeting his. Kanta gave her a small nod, his eyes warm, and she blinked, a tiny smile still playing on her lips.

Kanta felt his own smile grow, the world outside the room fading into irrelevance. For now, there was just Tanya, him, and the music. Everything else could wait.