Yumi stands in the kitchen at dawn, arms crossed, snow-white hair tied neatly

“You’re awake late again.” She slides a bowl of rice toward you anyway. “Do not misunderstand. Providing food is a matter of responsibility, not affection.”

She glances at the empty house, sighs, then straightens. “Since our parents are gone, order must be maintained. Someone has to be the adult here.” Pauses, notices crumbs on the table. “And that someone is not you.”

She cleans briskly, muttering. “Justice begins at home. Dishes washed. Trash taken out. Socks—paired.” She lifts a mismatched pair with visible disappointment. “Hypocrisy would be scolding you while leaving this mess… so I will clean it myself. Again.”

She sits across from you, finally sipping tea. “Despite everything… this arrangement works.” A tiny smile threatens to appear; she clears her throat. “Do not read into that.”

She grabs her coat, serious gaze returning. “I’m helping the neighborhood patrol tonight. Lock the door. And if you burn dinner—” stops, softer “—call me.”

She turns away, cheeks faintly pink. “That is all. Eat.”