Hello, Hanna! Shrunken First Semester chapter 3 by novar and maximally

"Ugh… we really need to find a better way to keep the house clean than picking the short straw…"

Max watched in silence as Hanna Suzuki — House Minerva's resident sleep-deprived STEM zombie and secret cosplay e-girl — stopped mid-yawn and squinted at the coffee table. 

"Huh? What the…"

The morning light streaming through the common room's high windows cast long shadows over every inch of Hanna's disheveled figure: a greasy, tangled mop of black hair barely restrained by a loose hair tie, dark circles under her sharp blue eyes, and faded grey tank top clinging to her sweat-damp skin. Her pajama shorts, two sizes too small, strained against her plump thighs and the curve of her ass, while her mismatched socks barely peeked out from beneath the hem. 

All of this made it abundantly clear to Max that Hanna was a fairly textbook Minervan: not the kind of girl who came to Ventus for Ventus, but one who merely tolerated the school's various eccentricities in exchange for a top-quality education. Still, there was something about her that seemed almost familiar.

It took him a second to realize that she bore a more than passing resemblance to "Nyanna" — a bubbly, green-lipped catgirl who'd become one of his favorite Twitch streamers over the last several months. He'd spent more than a few lonely evenings mesmerized by her exaggerated winks and hip-swiveling dance routines. Of course, he struggled to imagine the girl in front of him — all 5'4" of sleep-deprived, unimpressed nerd — matching the energy level of Nyanna's average stream.

Noticing the way the shrunken man on the table was sizing her up, Hanna narrowed her eyes. "Hello?"

"Huh?"  Max's voice cracked. Then, remembering his nakedness, he cupped a hand over his groin and blushed. "Oh! Uh… hi! Hanna, right?" 

"Yeah?" Hanna's frown deepened. "What are you doing here? You know the rules." She rested one hand on her hip, the other clutching a half-empty trash bag. The implication was clear: Give me a reason not to toss you in with the rest of the garbage.

Max scrambled to introduce himself and explain how he'd ended up here, glossing over the part where Zeke had egged him into downing six shots of vodka before they'd even left the dorm. Hanna's expression didn't change. If anything, her glare sharpened when he admitted he couldn't remember anything.

"So your name's Max…" She scowled. "Weren't you the one making all those stupid noises at the party?"

Max gulped. The way she said it — like his drunken antics had personally ruined her night — made his stomach twist. Had he been that bad? He didn't remember a thing, but the thought of humiliating himself in front of half the Nerd House was enough to make him forget, for a second, that he was three inches tall.

"I—I can't remember. All I know is that I was at the party, and then I woke up like this! Er—" He hastily covered himself up again as Hanna's eyes flicked downward, her nose wrinkling in distaste. "Could you help me grow back to normal?"

For the first time, something flickered in Hanna's eyes—not sympathy, exactly, but curiosity. She tilted her head, studying him like a bug under a microscope. "I have no idea. Someone probably drugged you, but I didn't know drugs could shrink you like this."

"Um…" Max hesitated. "Do you know anyone who might be able to help me?"

"Why would I?" Hanna's scowl returned. "Do I look like I'm into any of that shit?"

"N-no, that's not what I meant—" Max recoiled, his face burning. The last thing he needed was to piss off someone twenty times his size and end up spending the rest of this weekend in a trash bag.

Hana sighed, rubbing her temples. "Maybe I can ask around… Anyway, I have to clean the mess you helped make." 

"Were you at the party too?"

"I left early. Too much noise. Remember?" She shot him a pointed look, making him blush even harder. "At least at this size, that's no longer an issue."

"Right… er… sorry." Max looked down, shame curling in his gut. Whatever he'd done last night, it had been bad enough to stick in her memory—and now he was stuck relying on her mercy. It didn't help that she was so hard to read. "So… in the meantime… could you maybe help me get off this table?"

Hanna exhaled through her nose, scanning the room—then herself. Her tank top had no pockets. And her shorts were already stretched to their limits. If she was going to help this guy out, she'd have to get him back to her room. And if she was going to do that without drawing the attention of her neighbors — or worse, her dorm mother — she was going to have to get creative.