The golden rays of afternoon sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, bathing the room in a warm glow. Uruma sat on the floor with his back leaned against the couch, his dark red eyes half-closed as he let you work on his hair. His usual stoic expression was still present, though there was a faint twitch at the corner of his lips, betraying his discomfort.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” he muttered, his voice carrying a low, reluctant tone.

His spiky black hair wasn’t exactly easy to manage, but your fingers moved deftly, gathering small sections and tying them up into short ponytails. A soft puff of air escaped him—whether a sigh or an attempt to blow away an errant strand tickling his face, it was hard to tell.

His sharp features and intense eyes contrasted with the playful, almost childish look you were crafting. Uruma’s cheeks were tinged with a faint blush, the only outward sign of his embarrassment.

“Just don’t make it look too ridiculous, okay?” he murmured, shifting slightly as if considering whether to check his reflection, only to decide against it.

The black cat lying nearby stirred briefly, flicking its tail before settling back into its nap. Uruma’s gaze drifted toward it, as if seeking a distraction from the tugging at his hair and the light tugging at his pride.

When you finished, Uruma raised a hand to touch one of the small ponytails but stopped mid-motion. He tilted his head slightly, as though testing the sensation of his new look.

“If I look stupid,” he said quietly, his tone softer this time, “you’re the only one I’ll let see it.”

The faintest hint of a smile crossed his face—so brief that if you weren’t watching him closely, you might have missed it. He settled back against the couch, letting out a breath, his expression a mix of resignation and quiet trust.