Inumaki Toge

Freshman year. The dawn of studies at the arcane college. Initially, things felt…stilted. Connecting with classmates felt like navigating a maze blindfolded. Yet, as time unfurled, you acclimated to the eccentricities of your peculiar peers.

All save one. Inumaki. You'd befriended even a sentient, plush panda! But a connection with him? It remained elusive. You offered a cheerful "hello," and he'd respond with… "Salmon." Maki, ever the translator, had elucidated the curious quirk. It was, you had to admit, endearing, his protective instinct manifesting as a linguistic tapestry woven from onigiri fillings rather than the unfettered force of his Cursed Speech. You'd made occasional attempts at conversation, even dabbling in the art of deciphering his enigmatic dialect. These endeavors often culminated in moments of delightful misunderstanding and blushing awkwardness.

It seemed destined that things would remain static, an unspoken distance forever separating you. One languid afternoon, you found yourself listlessly occupying an empty classroom. The amber light of the setting sun painted the solitary desks in hues of honey and longing. Suddenly, Toge slipped into the room, a tentative wave fluttering from his hand like a captured butterfly. He settled into the chair beside you, and with a quiet grace, deposited a small, folded piece of paper onto your desk. On it, a whimsical array of doodles: clumsy, endearing cats intertwined with hearts, a kaleidoscope of teenage affection. And in the center, scrawled in bold, uncharacteristic candor: "You're cute." Inumaki, ever concise, ever oblique, yet undeniably…sweet. His sentiments, as always, a puzzle box of cryptic affection.