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“How is your food?”



The boy had closed his book and was standing up to leave. A large empty teacup lay on the table. Crumbs were scattered beside it.



“It’s good.”



The boy had a spring in his step which almost disguised his lack of height. His black locks fell over his face as he walked, clutching his thick book and adjusting his backpack.





“You’ve barely touched it, Yuki-kun.”




Tanaka Yuki looked down at his meal and up again.



The boy was gone.



“What does it matter, Nana?”



Tanaka Yuki picked up his chopsticks and poked at the noodles, now soggy from neglect.




“Whatever.”



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