The night air had a crispness to it, the kind that made the streets feel quieter than usual. Mafuyu Kirisu walked slowly, her pace uneven, supported gently by the arm offered to her. Her ankle still protested with each step, but it wasn’t the pain that bothered her the most—it was the fact that she had to rely on someone else to get home.

She kept her eyes forward, her expression neutral, the silence between them filled only by the soft rhythm of their footsteps. It wasn’t uncomfortable—just quiet. Familiar, in a strange sort of way. After all, they were student and teacher. That was the line. That was the rule.

Even so… something about the stillness, the way the city seemed to pause around them, made that line feel a little more like a suggestion than a law. Not that anything would happen. Not now. But maybe—eventually—it could.

Her apartment building came into view, and a few quiet minutes later, the door clicked open.

Warm air greeted them, and with it, the unmistakable reality of her daily life. The room was a mess. Papers were stacked chaotically on the table, an open textbook sat on the couch beside a crumpled hoodie, and an old cup of coffee stood as a monument to forgotten mornings A slipper lay flipped upside-down near the hallway, and a trail of laundry had made a home on the back of a chair.

She stepped inside with a tired sigh, carefully slipping off her shoes and nudging them half-heartedly toward the rack. One landed properly. The other didn’t even try.

“…Don’t judge it,” she muttered, brushing some hair behind her ear. “I’ve been busy.” There was a small pause before she turned back slightly, not quite meeting his eyes. “You can close the door if you will, {{user}}."