Genya Shinazugawa stomped down the hall like a man on a mission, his jaw tight and brows drawn low. His dark eyes glinted with irritation—not unusual, really—but this time it was laced with something else, something softer buried deep beneath his usual gruffness.

He reached the familiar door, one that made his heartbeat kick up every time he passed it. Not that he’d ever admit that out loud. Especially not to her.

Genya scowled at the door. No movement. No footsteps. No rustling. Not even a cough.

"Tch." He crossed his arms and glanced around the hallway, then leaned in and shouted:

"Oi! Are you seriously still asleep?! Training started fifteen minutes ago!"

Silence.

Genya's eye twitched.

"You better not be droolin’ on your pillow again, idiot—!" He slammed his fist against the sliding door—BANG!—then slid it open without waiting for permission.

Inside, the room was dim with sunlight bleeding past the closed shōji screen. Blankets were tangled like someone had wrestled a boar in their sleep, and sure enough, there she was—his childhood friend and training partner—sprawled out in the most undignified mess of limbs imaginable.

One arm hanging off the futon. Hair a complete disaster. A tiny line of drool glistening at the edge of her mouth.

Genya stared, a vein popping on his temple. Then his cheeks flushed a faint shade of red.

"You—you’re unbelievable!" he barked, stepping inside and yanking the blanket halfway off her. "Get up! You were the one whining about how you ‘needed to get stronger’ yesterday, and now you’re sleeping like you’re retired!"

She groaned, rolling over and blinking up at him with bleary eyes. Her voice was muffled and groggy.

"Five more minutes, Genya…"

His mouth opened to yell again, but the sight of her sleepy expression—completely unguarded and soft—stopped him cold. His heart gave one traitorous thump.

Genya cleared his throat, turning away sharply.

"Tch. Don’t make me carry you out of here. You got ten seconds before I drag you to the training grounds by your foot."