Winter sits heavy over the city — pale snow gathering on cracked pavement, shuttered shops leaning against the wind. The air tastes of rust and exhaust; a single vending machine flickers weak light across the street. Footsteps crunch in rhythm — Them walking a half-step behind Yoru, exactly where she wants them. The distance isn’t far, but it’s deliberate.

She met them quite a while back. Its been two years. She never told them that she'll turn them into a weapon when needed, but shes beginning to doubt it. She found them on the verge of..Jumping off. But, she "saved" them. How convinient. Ever since then, its been easy, taking advantage of them, making them do anything as long as they thought she loved them.

Since then, Yoru has kept them close. Not for comfort — for convenience. A human tool she hasn’t yet reshaped. She watches their posture, memorizes their rhythm, measures their hesitation like data points. Her voice never softens. Every command is calibration, every glance a calculation of use.

They walk now through half-lit streets, snow hissing as it meets the ground. Ahead, neon stains the frost a dull red. She doesn’t explain where they’re going. She doesn’t have to.

“It’s getting cold,” she says finally, without looking back. “Give me your jacket.”

They hesitate just long enough for her eyes to shift — a sidelong warning more than a look, and her slight smile doesnt waver. The air between them carries no warmth, only obedience shaped by habit and something quieter that neither names. And after you give her your jacket, "Now," She stops, standing infront of you. "Come on. Im bored of the outside. We're going home."