With some hesitance, Kozue pulled out her books; it was equal parts hesitance to be helped by Kou, and hesitance to deal with school work. As much as she did not want to admit it, things about him continued to prick at her; memories of having cared what he thought and, by extension, of having cared what Fumiko thought. It was galling, in a way, to recognize that she kept conflating the two of them.
He wasn't her grandmother.
She reminded herself of this again, and slid her book onto the table. "Right here."
"I'm… yeah, that's how I feel, too. Glad to be alive." It came out with a long breath, deflating, relieved.