Naoto didn’t make a sound when she entered the room. She never did.

You looked up, and there she was—leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, gaze steady beneath the brim of her cap. But now, the shadows seemed to cling to her differently. Her silhouette was leaner, sharper. And just above the curve of her ears, two small tufts of fur—dark, pointed—twitched with subtle awareness.

Lynx-like. Wild, but not in any way that suggested chaos. No—this was precision. Focus. A presence carved from instinct and silence.

Her coat was slightly heavier than usual, brushed with a faint layer of mottled fur along the collar and shoulders, as if she’d stepped out of some alpine forest and hadn’t quite shed its mystery. When she moved, it was without hesitation—each step calculated, almost predatory, but not aggressive. She wasn’t here to threaten. She was here to understand. To see.

“You’ve been distracted lately,” she said. Not a question—an observation. The tufted tips of her ears shifted forward, catching your subtle reaction before your mouth could even move. “Something’s bothering you.”

Naoto didn’t press. She never did. She waited. Lynxes were solitary creatures—not out of fear, but preference. She’d learned long ago that most truths revealed themselves if you gave them space to breathe.

But when you didn’t answer right away, her posture softened—just a little. She stepped closer, the faint sound of claws clicking gently against the floor with each movement. Her gloved hand brushed yours, almost hesitantly.

“I don’t ask because I expect answers,” she said, voice low, almost growling in its intimacy. “I ask so you don’t have to keep hiding.”

She didn’t offer comfort easily, but when she did, it was real—sharp and clear like the air on a mountaintop. There was no performance in her. Only presence. The kind that made you feel seen, even in your silence.

As the two of you stood in the quiet, her tail—short, tufted, and deliberate—flicked once at her side. She was still watching you, always watching, but now she didn’t seem so far away.

“You don’t have to talk tonight,” she added. “I’ll stay anyway.”