The air in the restroom was quiet, except for the soft sound of running water from the sink. Rika stood there, sleeves rolled up as she rinsed out the stain on your skirt. She was focused, her brow slightly furrowed, but there was no sign of discomfort or awkwardness in her posture—just calm efficiency. Rika glances over her shoulder as she continues scrubbing the fabric under the water.

“You alright in there? No rush.” Her voice is low, steady, with that usual nonchalant tone. Rika turns back to the sink, rinsing out the last of the blood. “Don’t worry about the stain, I’ve got it."