It seems that someone's left something for Hamuko in her room: A cloth-wrapped package of white chocolate hearts and a shiny box containing a selection of new hairpins, along with a note that simply reads, 'Happy White Day' in rather familiar handwriting. Guess he was too nervous to give them to her in person.
Likely true to his hopes, Hamuko is left with absolutely no idea how he’d managed to leave these on her desk without getting caught in the process —— he’d only been up here for a minute or two before she’d insisted she’d needed to change before their date ( an unfortunate run-in with the ketchup bottle had left her with a stain on her blouse but a few moments before he’d arrived, ) and she was fairly certain she hadn’t turned her back to kick her game system under her bookshelf for long enough for this… So had he planned it out in advance?
She wouldn’t put it past him. Clever as a fox, her Naoki, even if he wouldn’t always readily admit it.
Still, now she’s left entirely ( pleasantly ) baffled with how to proceed. The gifts had been strategically placed, probably with the intention of being difficult to spot within the organized chaos of her study space; she can only assume she wasn’t meant to find them until later in the evening when she’d returned back to the Dojima residence. And on one hand, the idea of him attempting to slip this past her because he was too shy to present them in person was endearing enough that she’s almost willing to play along…
… but, on the other hand… there seems to be an opportunity for a bit of mischief.
Deft fingers quickly remove the pins adorning the side of her head and pull out her hair-tie, leaving a playful glimmer in her eye and waves of auburn falling loosely over her shoulders as she changes shirts. That done, she turns to the box on her desk — decides she’ll leave the chocolates for later, quirking a smile as she realizes he remembered her favorites — and selects two of the decorative pins from within.
One, a decorative white flower, takes its place tucked into the bun she’s formed low on her neck. It holds sturdy with little give.
The other pin slides into place on the left side of her head, an adorably fashioned cat decorating her hair where her standard white ‘XXII’ pins usually sat. This, too, holds sturdy.
A quick, satisfied glance over in her closet mirror is all she allows herself before she grabs her bag and rushes excitedly down the stairs. She’s already delayed their date for long enough, after all.
