Chapter Text
There’s never enough tables in Puspa Cafe anymore.
Or at least, Cyno thinks that, because he was told that studying at the cafe was a good place to start getting out more and putting himself out there.
“Not even my tomatoes grow alone– I have a whole garden of them! And there are plenty of people for you to meet and someday collaborate with!”
It was only occasionally that Professor Cyrus acts sagely within the walls of their residence, but any time he does, it’s mostly to prove a parental point– Cyno’s lived with both versions for as long as he can remember to know the difference.
Now that Cyno’s officially an Akademiya scholar belonging to Spantamad, the very Darshan the Professor presides over, it’s more Professor Cyrus than Dad lately.
To the old man’s credit, he allowed Cyno to coop himself up in their study and bury his nose in every book the sage kept to himself for the entirety of his first year– something about really honing the basics, said the Professor. With how proud he was of his performance during freshman year, Cyno thought Cyrus would want him to keep it up.
Alas, “those books won’t teach you how to have proper relationships with your peers,” and it took him a while to get what he meant when the few dissertations the Professor had written always comprised methodology, and half of them included seeking out collaborators from other darshans– but regardless, the old man was right.
It’s been a week or two since Cyno has settled himself into the atmosphere of Puspa Cafe. The smell of coffee, the black and white cat stationed at the bottom of the counter as if it was a tip jar you pay with head scratches, the ambient sounds of water from the tiny indoor fountain, and, of course, the volume of scholars occupying the whole place.
Optimally, the place would be more conducive to learning and then maybe socializing about learning if everyone just so happened to be studying like him instead of clashing brains about that new tabletop card game sweeping the whole of Sumeru City by storm.
He could move to the House of Daena just to get away from the noise and afford some peace and quiet, but his old man might catch him “being a recluse,” and he didn’t wanna be told off again. Besides, he’s got quite the avenue of opportunity today.
Like a whole four-seater table all to himself.
It took him one more glance at all the teal-robed scholars slamming cards on their tables and ones going over lessons with their cups of coffee, the sensation of overwhelming muchness, for Cyno to part from his papers and offer a spot at his table to one awkwardly standing familiar stranger suspended in the middle of the room, hoping someone gets up so she can at least set her things down.
“Are you looking for a seat to study on?”
Brief, civil, direct, and easy enough– pretty good for a first impression, right?
He did not think this girl’s eyes could widen even further. She nods in response, “Y-yes but, the place seems pretty busy today.”
“I have a table to myself. You’re welcome to have a seat if you really need one.” He nodded to the corner-bound table he had just vacated. If he looked back at it right now, he could easily shoo away the crowd of scholars trying to look for who called dibs on it.
“Really?! That’d be great, thank you!”
Relief washed over her face, almost as refreshing a view as the fountain right behind her after a cup of coffee. Not that he’d know– he doesn’t understand the appeal of caffeine as someone who’s been able to study without it. His new acquaintance might not share the same sentiments, though.
“I’ll just order a cup of coffee– would you like one as well?” She offered as soon as she set her things down on his table. Their table now, he supposed.
“... Sure.”
She had already skipped to the counter, grinning down at the cat circling her ankles, when he realized what he just said.
‘Huh. Guess I’m trying coffee today too.’ Cyno sighed, tidying up his worksheets to make space for the incoming cups ahead. He’s got quite a streak of progress to report to the professor today.
The bitter notes of coffee soon mingle with the scent of paper scribbled with notes and numbers. He watches her unload her things, waiting for an opportune moment to say,
“Your usual table’s taken today.”
The fact that she landed herself on someone else’s table quite tells her enough that her usual spot is taken– but she glances back at it anyway. His ruby eyes follow.
“You know that’s where I usually sit?” She asks meekly, he hums in reply. “I didn’t think anybody would notice.”
Nonsense; everything that’s observable is real. At least, in the realm of the tangible world, it is.
“Not that hard to ignore the only person the cat ever leaves its spot for.” Cyno shrugs.
She laughs, a tiny airy sound. “You’ve, been studying here a lot lately too, right?”
‘Case in point.’ He blinks, almost forgetting to nod yes.
“I’m Nilou,” Finally, a name. She points at the beret sitting on her head. “Spantamad too. We have a few classes together.”
His eyes follow her finger to the emblem clasped on the side, if not the similar-looking worksheets they both have sprawled on the table. “I can see that.”
The way she laughs at the most mundane things makes it seem like he’s much too aware of everything than normal. That, and Nilou’s one ticklish person for him to trigger her funny bone with such ease.
“I’m Cyno.” He says briefly, before he forgets. Before he loses his momentum. Before there’s an unquenchable silence in the air that brings in a supplementary discussion about his name and where she might’ve heard it before– thankfully, all she does is smile once again. As if her laughter was anything short of an expression of joy already.
“Well, since you’re a couple of steps ahead of me, can I trouble you about this particular equation right here, Cyno?” Nilou slides a particular sheet of paper front and center and taps the pad of her index finger on a number left unanswered. It was the only number that’s holding her back from completing the work, and studying how to solve it on her own was the only thing that made her think otherwise about not coming in at the cafe today.
Cyno hunches forward, fishes for the same page of his own work from his pile of papers, and explains his process.
By the time Nilou had managed to finish the whole of the work’s three pages– two of which she wanted to do at evenly spaced out days before the deadline– Cyno had half a mind to up and leave. That was enough socializing for the day, he thinks.
“You’re leaving?” Nilou just finished her cup of coffee, though the slight wince to her face told him she wasn’t too fond of it. She replaced it with a smile when he slung the strap of his bag on his shoulder. “Alright, thanks for sitting with me! And for explaining the coursework to me in good detail. See you around?”
“Sure.”
The effort would’ve been commendable, but Cyno didn’t bother telling the professor about Nilou when he got home. Not when the old man was about to set fire to his table with how furious he was penning down a letter to one Professor Zaha Hadi about archons know what this time. Best not to pester him with something trivial.
Trivial– the word accurately described that interaction he had with Nilou. And the ones after that.
It was very new to him to have someone walk into the lecture hall and seek him out first thing in the morning just to say hi. Even more so when she leads a pack of her friends to sit around him as she takes the empty seat next to him, like being near him was so normal despite how few their interactions have been thus far.
“Look– I’m keeping a tally of how many times Professor Behnaz says the word ‘festoon’.” Nilou giggled beneath the sleeve of her robes, tapping her pen on the corner of her notes for quite a number of lines she’s collected since the lecture started. By the time he counted four groups of fives, the word popped up again.
When they would work within the laboratories and everybody would scramble about asking other tables for extra ingredients, this blue-eyed girl would make the stop to his table as if she had friends there too– she particularly had none at his.
“Wow, the colors of your potions are so vibrant! That means your ingredients must’ve been fresh and pure!” She remarks, leaning forward at their tube rack but not close enough for her to whiff up the scents.
“They’re from Kiyan.” Cyno nodded to one of his lab partners. The guy’s parents were able to make the trip to Port Ormos and back just in time for their first potioneering experiment. As if it was enough of an introduction, Nilou smiled at the guy like she would to her friends.
This girl always seemed to hover around like a loose petal in the wind. One blue floral leaf seamlessly blending with the sky. And everywhere she lands, it’s like she’s the whole stemmed thing, never brushed off like mere dust.
And if their interactions within the Akademiya weren’t enough, she’ll ask him if he was headed to the cafe too– too, which implies she’s headed there herself.
“I dunno, a nap sounds good right about now.” Cyno shrugged.
“It does!” Another unfaltering grin on her face, despite the sizable stack of lab reports she has to accomplish. “You have a seat saved at my table if you happen to swing by.”
He felt a tad bit relieved knowing he wasn’t the only thing that prompted her visits to Puspa Cafe, else he’d feel much obliged to keep her company all the time.
Though he lied about that nap, Cyno swung by the place upon his senior’s request– “Be a dear and buy some snacks for the two of us, Cyno. My treat!” said his ever balmy senior Lisa when she got out of a lecture– and indeed found Nilou on her usual seat, a book and her worksheets in front of her plus a few other scholars on all her sides.
It was mid-conversation when she spotted him. The fact that she waved his way, quill pen almost dropping from her hand when she raised it, garnered him a handful of glances too many.
“You know that guy?”
“No surprise there, who are you not friends with?”
There weren’t enough people in the cafe today making noise for him not to hear her laugh at those comments. Not even enough clamor from the kitchen not to hear them ask about him.
Be that as it may, it was rude to eavesdrop.
Before he could quietly slip away, snacks in tow, Cyno decidedly threw Nilou a wave. If the distance was enough, Nilou would see him and return the gesture. If the timing was right, her friends wouldn’t have spotted either of them exchanging greetings. If he was lucky, he would avoid being the topic of conversation.
But, independent variables exist; they fall outside researchers’ controls. Cyno guessed Nilou’s participation in a conversation centered around him was something not entirely unprecedented, given they’ve interacted more than the casual greeting in class. And besides, there must be some good faith he could muster up for Nilou that she wouldn’t have a mean thing to say about him, right?
“All I do here is study, actually. It feels weird to do anything else.” She seemed embarrassed to admit it– more so than to be sitting with him again, at their usual spot at the cafe. “Stepping into sophomore year after barely passing freshman year did a number on me– I have to be more diligent.”
Cyno hummed. “You were the only one studying when you were with those people.”
“... Do you believe that, everyone in the Akademiya is talented, if not a genius?” Nilou’s blue-eyed curiosity bore through his skull like shooting stars.
“Not everyone. Some, sure– but there’s more to being a scholar than being smart.” Cyno mused.
“Right! Like,” She must’ve liked his answer by the way she perked up. “Some have parents who are also scholars.”
He listened to her words very carefully after that bit, the tip of his quill suspended above the page and his eyes laser-focused on each slight of her features.
“Others, they have exceptional backgrounds that qualify them through their skills. And the rest of us, well, we were born in the Land of Wisdom!”
Huh. Her eyes wavered just now. Still, the ruby-eyed boy nods anyway, dismissive in practice yet … oddly validating in theory. Validating enough that Nilou’s features don’t falter again.
It’s the first time he’s seen this candlewick flame of a girl flicker.
If he acquired a skill or two from the professor, it’s memorizing people, whether by name or by face. Of all the doe-eyed first years equally eager and anxious about tenuring their first breaths of scholarship, this one red-haired girl belonged to the group of scholars that enjoyed the new liberties of community.
She wasn’t a bad egg, but she wasn’t the sharpest tool in the Spantamad shed either. Instead, Nilou was easily the definition of a social butterfly that pursued free periods and groupworks as carefree as a bird. To her credit, the freshman curriculum was all about introduction– shaking hands with the darshan of your choosing, if you may. But it did cover the fundamentals. She considers herself lucky enough that she has a genuine affiliation to nature to step foot a year higher.
‘Not elementalism?’ Cyno thought to himself, but given her monologue just now, best not to voice it out.
“I’m lucky I’m in the Akademiya.” The tiniest murmur from her brought him out of his reverie. Smiling, Nilou picked up her quill pen again. “That and, we’re pretty lucky Professor Cyrus encourages learning.”
He answers before reading a sentence from his book– “Doesn’t every sage?”
“Well, the professor kind of gives me the impression that he’d pardon a student’s mistakes for the sake of that person learning from them. Archons know that‘s what must’ve happened for me to still be here.” She lets out a rather flustered laugh. “I doubt he’s like that with you, though.”
“What, because he’s my dad?”
Cyno answered too quickly, barely thinking of what context she could be referring to. But she’s already dumbstruck, her eyes swelling to the sizes of frog gullets. Next thing she’ll say is–
“You’re related to Professor Cyrus?”
Gods, that was even worse. How does he begin to describe what relationship he has to that old geezer?
“If the professor treating all his students like his kids counts, then we’re all related to Professor Cyrus. But that’s not the point,” He shook his head. “I’m treated the same way as any other Spantamad scholar of his. I don’t have access to his lesson plans, his questionnaires, and the like. So if that’s what you’re looking for, I’m afraid I’m gonna have to disappoint you.”
“Ah– that’s, fine. I don’t really need you to do all that.” There’s a crack on her usual balmy expression, but she manages to keep it kempt. “Sorry it seems that I’m relying on you for that sort of thing. O-or, maybe it’s best to thank you for helping me regardless.”
“So you wouldn’t expect any academic aid from me, even after the fact that I’m rather close to the sage?” His gaze grows sharper. Unintentionally, but he’ll call it a force of habit with his super serious face.
“Well, tabling with you and working on stuff together is better than nothing.” She shrugs, but it lacks the frivolity of the gesture.
“That means you still stand to gain something from this.”
“No! We’re just- sitting together and, studying together, right?”
Nilou nearly locks in at the onset of a frown on this ruby-eyed boy’s face– he even scoffs at the slightest, takes his gaze off her, which practically freaks her out. “Don’t you have a whole bunch of friends for that?”
“Aren’t … we friends too?”
Cyno looks up, aghast.
She fidgets in her seat, eyes shooting to her lap then back up at him. “Do you … think I’m only friends with you because I need something from you? In this case, to get by with my studies?”
That was rather direct coming from Nilou.
Cyno didn’t have a particular answer to it, at least one that isn’t as simple as a straight yes or no. It was more so … a feeling, at best. The insecurity of something that isn’t genuine. Which is quite a tall order to want considering he barely had an intention to form friendships when he was merely satiating the professor’s wish for him to socialize– it still left him burning. Feverish at the thought that connections could be so shallow.
When he couldn’t give her an answer, Nilou started putting her stuff away. Not to up and leave but rather, tidying them up into a neat pile then lacing her fingers together atop the table.
Then, her smile was brand new. “I’m not sure if you’d rather not be friends with me but, if you’re willing, how about we get to know each other as friends from now on?”
Cyno forced himself to blink.
This girl was still willing to give him the time of day even after he so coldly brushed off her attempts at just being … kind. Even after her whole spiel about taking her scholarship more seriously, he made these trivial moments between two fellow scholars out to be something, transactional. And there must be truth in that, what with how the Akademiya works, but it doesn’t seem fair to Nilou when she’s making an honest effort to connect with him.
“Is, that a no?” Nilou mumbled unsure.
“No– I mean, it’s …” Cyno sighs. “We can do that.”
She visibly breathed easier after that.
“So,” Her eyes sway across the room as she ponders a good topic. “Why’d you choose Spantamad? U-unless it’s about the professor, then you don’t have to answer that.”
One big exhale trudged out his mouth– Cyno doesn’t want her never to mention Professor Cyrus around him just for his own comfort. “It’s fine, I guess I just …”
‘Feel like there's more to me beyond the world we walk, from ... somewhere out there, carving its existence onto mine.’
“... Found it neat, the elements.” Archons, even he found himself taking a leaf off her book.
Something in Nilou told her that there’s more to it than that– but the whole point of making friends with someone is getting to know them. Perhaps that’s all there is to it, the broadness of an interest giving him enough wiggle room to explore it. Or, maybe it means so much to him that he can only choose a few words to sum it all up.
“I didn’t know what darshan to pick once I got into the Akademiya.” Nilou humbly recalls, the slightest tint of pink dusting her cheeks. “But before that, I used to spend lots of my time at the Grand Bazaar! Eight times out of ten, the scholars that would drop by would be sighing with the weight of the whole world on their shoulders talking about their research. But if they still talk about it even at the happiest place in all of the city, that must mean they’re truly dedicated to their work, right?”
She never answered her own question, about why she chose Spantamad, but he didn’t feel like interrupting her whenever she spoke. In Cyno’s silver head, as long as Nilou was still talking to him, his earlier slight wasn’t as bad as he felt it was. As a friend, a new one at that, the least he can do is listen to her.
She went on to say, the Land of Wisdom is governed by the Akademiya for a reason– to produce educated citizens, if not brilliant scholars. And to have lived in the city all her life, she believes the right path to pursue should be academics. It’d make no sense to someone outside Sumeru to tell them you’re from Sumeru but aren’t pursuing the life of a scholar.
That’s why Nilou is here, for the lack of a better reason not to be– or at least, that’s what she thinks. One of the many fundamental lessons Cyno had learned from snooping around the professor’s study that he can apply here is that, for every quantifiable factor, there must have been a method of measurement to explain it. Like how her chatter makes up for his silence; how her choosing Spantamad outweighing Rtawahist or even Vahumana was due to her high affinity to the elements.
Yeah, he guessed he could proceed about this friendship the way a student would navigate their thesis; getting to know someone is nearly equal to bridging the gaps in knowledge, as researchers do. Perhaps the subject of this study could be the unorthodox methodologies of surviving in the Akademiya, and their various levels of effectiveness.
That way, Cyno’s hitting two birds with one stone, fine tuning all his learnings and dipping his toes in the surprisingly lukewarm pool of community. He’ll gather his bearings in no time.
In fact, in no time at all, Cyno soon finds out a monumental revelation about Nilou that not only takes him back to her unanswered question, but also proves his hypothesis.
Except he finds out with everyone else there as well, during class, and by chance.