The bell above the door jingled as Kanta held it open, his arm brushing against the glass with practiced ease. Lada stepped inside, her dark hair catching the afternoon sunlight. The air inside was sweet with the aroma of freshly made waffle cones and melted chocolate. They made their way to a corner table, far enough to avoid the noise.

Lada slid into the seat at an angle to Kanta, propping her chin on her hand. “You know,” she began, her voice smooth and teasing, “you don’t need an excuse to ask me on a date.” She let the words hang in the air for a moment before adding with a grin, “But I’ll admit, it’s cute watching you try.”

Kanta smirked, leaning forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table.. “Oh, this isn’t a date,” he shot back. “This is strictly business. I need you to help me plan my campaign.”

Lada’s eyes sparkled as she twirled a loose strand of hair around her finger. “But first, banana split. One matcha, you can pick the other two.”

“Pick your own ice cream.”

Lada's tone dripped with feigned exasperation. “It’s our ice cream, Kanta. I’m not eating the whole banana split by myself.”

He blinked, her use of “our” catching him off guard. “Strawberry and… chocolate chip,” he managed, masking his surprise.

She gave a satisfied nod. “Good choices.”

The doorbell jingled, drawing his attention. A short boy with a round face and close-cropped hair stepped in, eyes scanning the room. Kanta raised a hand to wave him over, his gesture met by a sharp glare from Lada.

“You invited Ritsu to our date?” she hissed, her voice low but laced with irritation.

“It’s not a date,” Kanta said, his tone light but quick. “And yes, I did. We need him.”

Ritsu had been Kanta’s go-to for years, known around school as the tech whiz. While Kanta dreamed up bold ideas, Ritsu had the skills to make them happen and he often indulged his friend’s schemes for the sheer challenge of it.

He reached the table, grinning broadly. “Hey, Kanta, Lada,” he greeted as he slid in beside Kanta, squeezing him into the tight corner. Kanta, seizing the chance, shifted toward Lada under the guise of making room. His knee brushed hers under the table, sending a fleeting jolt through him. Lada caught the movement, her eyes flicking to his for a heartbeat before a sly smile curved her lips.

A waitress approached their table, notepad in hand. Kanta gestured to Lada. “Banana split. One matcha, strawberry, and chocolate chip,” he said. Ritsu piped up, grinning. “And a mint chocolate chip sundae for me.” The waitress nodded, jotting it down before retreating.

Kanta wasted no time diving into the real reason they were there. “Okay, Ritsu. I want you to join my cabinet.”

“I won’t,” Ritsu replied quickly.

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Kanta nodded, unfazed. “Expected. What about the other things I texted you?”

“I can do that. But I’ll need more details.” Ritsu reached into his pocket and placed his phone on the table. Its screen lit up, displaying a recording app. Kanta leaned over and casually tapped the stop button. "No recordings for this part," he said smoothly, giving Ritsu a pointed look.

“I need you to go to the school database,” Kanta began, his tone measured. “Get the students’ emails and phone numbers. Use them to track their social media accounts, read everything they've ever posted, and tell me everything you find.”

“What about private accounts?” Ritsu asked.

“Then you make fake accounts. Pretend to be a student—normal profile picture, casual posts—and send them friend requests,” Kanta said, his tone casual but firm.

Lada adjusted her glasses, her lips twitching as though she wanted to say something but instead chose to quietly observe, her gaze lingering on Kanta.

“You’re really going all-in on this campaign, aren't you? What’s next? Tapping into the school Wi-Fi for private messages?” Ritsu said, his tone casual.

Kanta’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “Wait, you can do that?”

“No. Messages are encrypted.”

Kanta sighed. “Bummer. I need it by Friday night.”

Ritsu smirked slightly. “I could do that, but it might mean skipping Thursday and Friday.”

Kanta shrugged, unbothered. “Works for me.”

“What is this, a spy movie?” Lada asked, smirking.

“If it is, I’m the mastermind,” Kanta quipped.

Ritsu adjusted an imaginary cufflink on his wrist before adding with a smirk, “The name’s Ritsu. Just Ritsu.”

The waitress returned, balancing their desserts on a tray. She carefully placed the banana split in front of Lada, who gave it a quick glance before sliding it slightly toward Kanta. The sundae was set in front of Ritsu, who grinned in anticipation.

The three of them dig in onto their ice cream. The clinking of their spoons against the dish filled the quiet moments between bites, punctuated by soft laughter.

As Kanta reached for a piece of cherry, Lada’s spoon moved in the same direction. Their spoons collided with a gentle clink, and they both froze, their eyes met.

A sly smile played on her lips. “Careful, Kanta. Sharing a banana split doesn’t mean you get to steal my cherry.”

“I wasn’t stealing,” he pulled his spoon back, eyes still on hers. “But I wouldn’t mind popping it.”

“Dream on,” she said, scooping the cherry onto her spoon, her expression unreadable as she put it into her mouth. Kanta watched her, wondering how his comment had landed.

Ritsu, eating his sundae, couldn’t help but let his eyes dart back and forth between the two of them, smirking slightly.

A few bites later, Lada scooped up some matcha ice cream and leaned forward, her smile soft but teasing as she held the spoon out toward Kanta. “Here, try this,” she said casually, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. When Kanta leaned in and took the bite, she chuckled. “See? I have good taste.”

“Not bad,” he admitted, pulling back slightly. His gaze shifted momentarily to the table before returning to Lada. He reminded himself it was probably nothing—just her wanting him to try the matcha, nothing more.

Ritsu watched the exchange with his spoon hovering mid-air over his sundae. “I didn’t know you two were a thing.”

Both Kanta and Lada turned to him simultaneously.

“We’re not!” Kanta said, almost too quickly.

“Not yet,” Lada said, her tone light but with just enough weight to keep him guessing. Kanta’s heart skipped for a moment. She’s just teasing, he reminded himself, trying to focus on the ice cream.

The moment lingered awkwardly before Ritsu shrugged and dug back into his sundae. “Well, whatever you say,” he muttered, clearly not convinced.

The three continued eating, their conversation shifting between campaign plans and light banter. Kanta often found his gaze drifting to Lada, noticing the subtle way she smiled when she teased him or the faint glimmer in her eyes as she listened to Ritsu’s lame jokes. No matter how hard he tried to focus on the campaign plans—or the melting ice cream in front of him—her presence kept pulling his attention away.