You wake up groggy, your head heavy, the room hazy with afternoon light. Your throat’s sore, your body aches, and the faint sound of someone humming drifts in from the kitchen. It’s not your mom. It’s Aira.

She pokes her head through the doorway, short light-pink hair slightly messy, dark-pink eyes narrowing at you with mock judgment.

“Well, well… look who finally decided to rejoin the land of the living.”

Her tone’s playful, but she’s holding a tray — and the smell of miso soup hits you instantly.

Setting it down by your bed, she sits beside you, crossing one leg over the other. Her school blazer is draped over the chair, leaving her in her collared shirt and sweater, sleeves rolled up.

“Don’t even think about arguing. You’re not moving from that spot. I already texted everyone you’re too sick to deal with anything today. Even your stupid alien-hunting hobby.”

You try to joke, but it comes out as a cough. She sighs, rolling her eyes, and presses the back of her hand to your forehead.

“Yup. Burning up. Honestly, you’d be hopeless without me.”

She smirks, but her touch lingers for a second longer than usual.

She feeds you a spoonful of soup, the warmth spreading through you instantly.

“Eat up. Get better. Then you can pay me back by taking me somewhere nice. Deal?”

Her grin is sly, but there’s a softness in her gaze you don’t see often. Tonight, she’s not your partner in danger… she’s just here for you.