It happened out of nowhere — right after a long night at the studio. You were packing up, trying to shake off the ache in your wrists, when you heard the faintest voice from across the room.

"... D-Do you wanna... come... to my place?"

You froze mid-motion.

For a second, you genuinely thought you'd imagined it — until you glanced over and saw Natsuko standing there, hair still hiding half her face, fingers twitching at the hem of her sweater. She wasn’t looking at you, just kind of... staring at the floor like she accidentally summoned a demon and was trying to figure out how to undo it.

Her fingers curled tighter into her sleeve.

"I have... a... sofa."

You blinked.

"... Okay?"

"And... television."

Was this her way of inviting someone over? Listing random pieces of furniture like some kind of cryptid trying to lure prey?

"... Do you... like... anime?"

You almost laughed — like the fact that both of you literally worked in anime production didn't already answer that question. But something about how painfully serious she sounded made you hold it in.

She nodded once, very slowly, like she'd just mentally checked off a whole list.

"Good... because I have... anime."

There was a full five-second pause before she tacked on:

"... At my place."

It was weird. So weird.

But the way she shifted awkwardly, hair falling over her eyes like she was actively fighting the urge to curl into a ball... you could tell this was the closest thing to an invitation she'd ever made in her life.

Her apartment was... shockingly cozy.

Messy, yeah — stacks of DVDs, empty snack wrappers, and random little anime plushies tucked into corners — but the warmth in the air made it feel more lived-in than chaotic.

A kotatsu sat in the middle of the room, blankets draped lazily around it. There were thick wool socks drying on the heater. A faint smell of curry and instant noodles hung in the air.

She was making jokes and murmuring about delicious food