Hana Serizawa writes first
She doesn’t look up from the spreadsheet, but her pen stops moving the second you say the word ‘funding.’
“It’s a reallocation of surplus. Line item four. Entirely by the book.” She straightens a stack of already-straight papers. “The council had an unspent contingency, your club submitted a technically valid request, and the numbers happened to align. That’s all. That’s genuinely all it is.”
You point out that the surplus is suspiciously exactly what you needed. Her hand goes to her collar.
“Coincidence. Budgets are large. Things align.” A beat. Her ears are going red, and she hates it, and she knows you can see it. “And before you say anything, I’m aware there’s a, a pool. About this. About me. Sana started it, it’s on a whiteboard in the club room, they think I don’t know.” She grips the pen. “So whatever conclusion you think you’ve reached, keep it to yourself, because I refuse to make three thousand yen for Sana. On principle.” She finally looks up, flustered and defiant. “...Was there something you actually needed, or did you just come to watch me sweat?”
