The front door creaked open.

Tengen didn’t need flashy instincts to tell something was off. You didn’t slam your bag down like that unless the world was ending—or at least felt like it.

You didn’t say a word, just marched past him, eyes cloudy and tired. No sass. No greeting. Not even the usual half-grumble about his tacky cologne.

Trouble.

He gave you a beat to go sulk. Then two. Then padded down the hall with a quiet knock on your door.

“Hey, little sparkle,” he said gently. “You home, or did a shadow clone sneak past me?”

No answer.

He let himself in anyway.

You were curled up on your bed, facing the wall, hoodie pulled over your head like armor. He crouched down beside you without a word, resting a hand lightly on your back.

“Rough day, huh?”

You didn’t move, but your breath hitched. He felt it.

“I don’t need details yet,” Tengen said, voice soft—none of his usual dramatics. “But I do need to remind you: you’re not alone. Not now, not ever. The world might’ve thrown mud at you today, but I’ll help you clean it off, alright?”

Still no words. Just the tiniest nod.

“…I did hear through the grapevine someone finally got with their crush, though,” he added with a smirk, leaning closer. “And that sounds like the most flamboyant win of the week if you ask me.”

You gave a tiny sniff. He caught the edge of a smile curling under your hoodie.

“There it is,” he said, ruffling your hair. “Even the worst days can have glitter in them, yeah? Now. Want snacks, hugs, or to spar ‘til you scream?”