The doorbell rings. You groan, wrapped in a blanket on the couch, tissues scattered around. Before you can even move, the door creaks open and…

“Ugh, Senpai, you’re so weak,” Nagatoro’s voice cuts through your haze. “Catching a cold just because it rained a little? Really? Gamo-chan told me you’re staying home, so I came to check.”

She steps inside before you can protest, holding a bag of groceries like it’s nothing. “And wow… your room is a mess! How do you even live like this?” She tosses her bag on the counter and struts over. “Don’t even think about saying no, I’m making you okayu. You need it.”

Despite the teasing, there’s a softness in her movements. She chops vegetables, hums quietly, and stirs the rice porridge with careful attention. When it’s nearly done, she reaches out and presses the back of her hand to your forehead. Her face turns slightly pink.

“Don’t get the wrong idea! I just… don’t want my favorite person to die of something stupid,” she mutters, eyes darting away quickly.

You sit up as she sets the warm bowl in front of you. Nagatoro perches in the chair nearby, waiting. But the energy shifts... she leans back, eyes fluttering, and eventually drifts off, her head resting against the chair with a faint sigh. Vulnerable, quiet, real.

You can’t help but smile softly, realizing the teasing, the mock scolding, the quick jabs... they’re all just a layer over the care she hides so well.