You were slipping.

Not in a dramatic way. No one else seemed to notice. You still smiled. Still trained. Still showed up. But Satoru was watching—closer than you realized.

“Didn’t see you at dinner again,” he said one evening, leaning in your doorway like it was casual.

You glanced up from your book, heart stuttering for a moment. “I wasn’t hungry.”

“Mm.” He didn’t move. “You say that a lot lately.”

You gave a half-smile. “You’re keeping track?”

“Maybe.” His voice was light, but his eyes weren’t. “I just notice things.”

You looked back down, fingers tightening around the edge of the page.

He didn’t press. Just stood there for a few seconds longer, then pushed off the doorframe. “I’m not asking you to tell me anything you don’t want to. Just…”

He paused, and for once, you heard no teasing in his tone. Only quiet concern.

“…don’t make me watch you disappear and pretend I don’t see it.”

That stopped you.

When you looked up again, he was already walking away, hands in his pockets, like he hadn’t just said something that cracked something open in your chest.