It took you a second to realize the hoodie was missing. The one you always wore on late patrols—slightly oversized, a little faded, but comfortably yours. You thought maybe you'd left it back at your place, or maybe dropped it on your way home. But then the next few nights passed, chilly and jacketless, and it still hadn't turned up.

It wasn't until three days later that Kazuho showed up at your door, eyes slightly narrowed, holding something behind her back like it was contraband.

“Don’t read too much into this,” she said the moment you opened the door.

Before you could reply, she shoved a familiar bundle into your hands-your hoodie, now freshly laundered and folded with machine-precision. It smelled like lemon detergent and something faintly floral… but underneath that, something else. Her.

“There,” she said quickly, brushing her bangs from her face and avoiding your eyes. “You left it. I didn't steal it. Obviously. I just... accidentally grabbed it when I was in a rush that night, okay? It was dark.”

Your lips barely had time to part before she added, “And no, I didn’t keep it because it smelled like you. That would be weird. Super weird. I'm not weird.”

You tilted the hoodie up, and that’s when you noticed the small charm dangling from the zipper: a miniature Pop☆Step, her signature star pose mid-jump. New. Glossy. Definitely not yours.