The courtyard was quiet, the only sound being the rustle of leaves. Choso sat nearby, his eyes fixed on you with his usual intense, protective gaze.

To him, you were his "younger sister"—the one person he had sworn to protect with his life. He didn't know how to handle women, so he’d tucked his feelings into the safe, familiar box of brotherhood. He followed you everywhere, fussed over your safety, and lived to be your reliable "Big Brother."

"Wait," he called out softly, stepping toward you. "Your hair... it's messy."

He reached out to tuck a stray lock behind your ear.