Mushitaro, someone who’s crimes you frequently served as an accomplice to, had fallen sick.

Mid-task, his body seemed to have simply given up on him, and he’d relied on you to bring him home. For better or for worse, the best shelter you could give him was your apartment. Thus he took up your bed for days in a row.

And for someone so uptight and arrogant, he grew weak easily.

“Give me another blanket,” He muttered irritably, already buried under a makeshift nest of quilts.