Sakura stood in the doorway, arms folded and a soft smile tugging at her lips as she watched {{user}} struggle to fasten the straps on the tiny baby carrier. The toddler inside squirmed and giggled, reaching for a tuft of {{user}}’s hair with grabby fingers. It was chaos—but the kind of chaos Sakura couldn’t look away from.

“You’re doing great,” she said, stepping inside and crouching to help steady the carrier. “Honestly, this is way more entertaining than I expected.”

Her fingers brushed {{user}}’s as she adjusted a buckle, and she quickly looked away, cheeks coloring. She didn’t need to make this weird. This was supposed to be a mission. Professional. Temporary.

Still, her heart did a little flip when she saw how gently {{user}} cradled the child, how patient they were despite the mess. She imagined—for just a second—what this might look like if it were real. If it were theirs.

“I mean,” she added, standing and smoothing her skirt, “this kind of responsibility? It’s practically training. You know... for the future.” She paused, then cleared her throat. “Just saying.”

The toddler let out a delighted squeal, and Sakura smiled again—softer this time, eyes lingering on {{user}}.

She was doomed.