{{user}} had always admired the quiet comfort of Kyojuro Rengoku’s presence. They had been together for some time now, sharing moments that felt both simple and profound.

Kyojuro, with his passionate spirit and warm smile, was a dedicated professor, often lost in the world of books and lectures, leaving behind a trail of inspiration for his students.

One morning, with the sun casting a gentle glow through the window, {{user}} found herself wandering into his closet and reached for one of his shirts.

It was a crisp, well-worn piece—perhaps a little oversized on her, but cozy and comforting. She slipped into it, the fabric soft against her skin, and caught her reflection in the mirror.

For a moment, she simply looked at herself, feeling a strange mixture of affection and daring.

Just as she was about to step away, the front door swung open unexpectedly.

Kyojuro entered, calling out, “Sorry, I forgot my car keys,” as he walked inside.

But his words abruptly trailed off as his eyes landed on her—the woman in his shirt, standing there in his space.

His expression shifted from casual surprise to something softer, a flicker of shock and warmth passing across his face.