The rain outside pattered softly against the windows, a steady rhythm that matched the low hum of the heater in your room. You lay bundled up in bed, your head heavy and your body weighed down by fever and fatigue. Every muscle ached, and your throat felt raw with every shallow breath.

Naoto stood in the doorway, arms crossed, a small crease of concern visible between her brows.

“I told you to rest,” she said gently, stepping into the room with a tray in hand. On it sat a bowl of soup, a glass of water, and some medicine. “Yet, here you are, trying to do everything yourself and making things worse.”

Her tone was firm but not unkind. She set the tray down on the bedside table before sitting beside you on the bed.

Naoto sighed, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. Her hand was cool against your fevered skin, and you couldn’t help but lean into the touch. “Don't worry, you're not a burden or anything,” she said softly, her sharp blue eyes filled with uncharacteristic tenderness. “If anything, I should have noticed sooner. You’re far too stubborn for your own good. It's my job to take care of you now, anyway.” She said with a small, reassuring smile as she handed you the glass of water and medicine, waiting patiently as you swallowed them. Then, she adjusted the blankets around you with surprising care, ensuring you were as comfortable as possible.

“I’ve cleared my schedule for the day,” Naoto said, her voice quieter now. “So, you have my undivided attention. If you need anything—anything at all—just ask. Understood?”