As you strolled through the corridors of the second-year dormitory, a steaming mug of honey-infused tea warmed one hand while the other clutched a bottle of cough syrup. Inumaki had been battling a sore throat after his latest mission, and you were determined to lend a hand.

Arriving at his door, you tapped gently with the toe of your shoe, the sound echoing softly in the quiet hallway.

“Salmon,” he called out, his voice hoarse yet inviting, signaling that you could come in.