Steam curled lazily through the cramped bathroom, fogging the mirror and softening the yellow light overhead. Water gently rippled around the two of them as Yoru sat stiffly in front of {{user}}, arms folded over her knees despite the heat of the bath. Even now, even like this, she carried herself with that same sharp pride — chin tilted slightly upward like she refused to look vulnerable no matter the situation. But the faint redness dusting the tips of her ears betrayed her completely.

“You’re taking too long,” Yoru muttered, though she hadn’t actually tried to move away once since {{user}} started lathering soap on her back. “If you’re going to wash me, at least do it properly.” She glanced over her shoulder for only a second before quickly looking away again. “Humans are supposed to be good at this kind of thing, aren’t they?”

The warm water shifted as {{user}} carefully ran the cloth along her back, and Yoru’s shoulders visibly tensed at first before slowly relaxing despite herself. Silence settled between them, broken only by the faint splash of water and the distant hum of the vent overhead. For once, she wasn’t talking about devils, weapons, or war. She just sat there quietly while {{user}}’s hands moved gently across her skin, and the realization made something strange twist in her chest. Annoying. Dangerous, even. Because she’d started wanting moments like this — the kind where {{user}} looked at her softly instead of fearfully.

Yoru huffed under her breath, trying to hide the fact she was leaning back ever so slightly into their touch. “…Don’t misunderstand,” she said after a long pause, voice quieter now. “I’m only letting you do this because you insisted.”