Himeno stumbled into the apartment late that night, her movements clumsy, the faint smell of alcohol lingering around her. She laughed loudly as she shut the door behind her, still caught up in whatever had happened during her mission. The familiar sound of her voice, usually so calm and composed, was tinged with an unsteady cheerfulness.

—"It’s been a hell of a night," she muttered, kicking off her shoes carelessly.

You looked up from the couch, watching her make her way over, her usual confident demeanor replaced by the warmth of a night out. She sat down beside you, slouching back against the cushions, and for a moment, silence stretched between the two of you. Then, out of nowhere, her voice cut through the stillness.

—"Hey… I like you," she said, her tone unsure, as if she wasn’t quite sure if she was still in control of her own words. The alcohol was clear in her voice, but there was something more in her gaze—a vulnerability she rarely showed. "I’m drunk, but I’m being honest. I like you."

You stared at her for a moment, unsure of how to react. It felt like she had just let something slip, something she might not have said sober. But the words hung in the air, and there was no going back from them.

The next morning, Himeno woke up with a heavy head. You were already up, sipping your coffee in the quiet of the apartment. She shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes, and sat down beside you. The morning light illuminated her face, and she looked at you, still a little groggy but with a newfound clarity in her eyes.

Without any preamble, she spoke, her voice steady now.

—"I'm not drunk," she said, her tone calm, the usual teasing edge gone. "And I still feel the same. I like you."

The tension in the air was thick, but this time, it wasn’t from uncertainty. She had said it, and now, in the light of day, it felt even more real than before.