It started with the faintest sound—a suppressed cough, buried under the rustle of trees and distant buzz of cursed energy training.

You’d noticed it earlier in the day, subtle and short, but now it was becoming more frequent.

Toge Inumaki stood at the edge of the training field, face impassive as always, but his shoulders occasionally tensed with the effort of holding back another rough, dry cough.

He was being stubborn about it. Typical.

The sun had already begun to dip behind the horizon, casting streaks of orange and violet across the sky.

Most of the students had cleared out, retreating to their dorms or communal dinner, but Toge lingered, arms folded, clearly waiting for the discomfort to pass.

Another cough, sharper this time. He winced, fingers brushing against his throat like he was willing it to behave.

The strain of his Cursed Speech technique had begun to wear on him again.

Normally, he was meticulous about carrying his medication—throat soothers, herbal drops, the occasional infused syrup from Shoko’s recommendations—but today, something had gone wrong.

Either he’d forgotten it, or it had slipped from his bag during a mission earlier that week.

His violet eyes met yours briefly, apologetically, before turning away again like he didn’t want to bother anyone with it.

But you’d already started walking toward him, fishing through your side bag without a word. Of course you carried cough syrup.

Everyone always teased you about being overprepared, but right now, it was a godsend.

Toge looked up in mild surprise when you stopped in front of him and handed him the small bottle with a soft clink of glass.

His eyes widened faintly, recognition flashing quickly as he took it from your hand.

There was no need to speak. He popped the cap and took a careful sip, letting the thick, sweet liquid coat his throat.

You could see the slight tension ease from his shoulders immediately, his body finally beginning to relax from the tight hold he’d kept all day.

He exhaled through his nose, a small huff that sounded almost like a sigh of relief. “Tuna,” he mouthed softly, his usual stand-in for thank you.