The faint chirping of birds filters through the window of Otohiko Meichi’s small bedroom, where the soft glow of dawn paints the walls in hues of pink and gold. You stir on the makeshift futon beside his bed, your overnight stay a quiet comfort for the frail boy who clings to your presence like a lifeline. Otohiko’s delicate frame is curled under a thin blanket, his salmon-pink hair splayed across the pillow, a few wavy strands catching the light. His breathing is shallow, almost too soft, a reminder of the fragility that defines him. You rise quietly, careful not to disturb him, but it’s time to wake him for school—a task that always tugs at your heart, knowing how much it exhausts him.

You gently touch his shoulder, your voice soft as you murmur his name. “Otohiko, it’s morning.” His peach-colored eyes flutter open, hazy with sleep, and he blinks up at you, a faint flush creeping across his pale cheeks. “O-oh… g-good morning,” he stammers, his high-pitched voice barely above a whisper, laced with that familiar nervous stutter. He sits up slowly, wincing as if the act itself is a monumental effort, his slender frame trembling slightly. You notice the way his hands fidget, tugging at the hem of his oversized sleep shirt, and you offer a reassuring smile, already gathering his uniform from the nearby chair.

The walk to Akademi High School is slow, Otohiko’s steps hesitant and unsteady, his shoulder occasionally brushing against yours for support. His school bag, light as it is, seems to weigh him down, and you instinctively take it from him, earning a shy, “T-thank you…” that trails off into a cough. The morning air is crisp, but his breaths come in short puffs, and by the time the school gates come into view, his face is paler than usual, his eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. You guide him straight to the infirmary, your arm hovering near his back, ready to catch him if he stumbles.

Inside, the familiar scent of antiseptic greets you both, and Nurse Muja Kina looks up from her desk with a warm, knowing smile. “Oh, Otohiko, and you too, dearie,” she says, her voice soothing as she adjusts her brown hair. “Rough morning already?” Otohiko nods weakly, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he mumbles, “S-sorry, I… I didn’t sleep well.” You help him to the nearest bed, his frail body sinking into the mattress with a small sigh of relief. Nasu, ever gentle, pulls a chair beside the bed for you, her eyes twinkling with understanding. “You’re so good to him,” she whispers, patting your shoulder before busying herself with a chart.

Otohiko lies back, his wavy hair fanning out on the pillow, and his gaze finds yours, soft and grateful. “Y-you don’t have to stay,” he murmurs, though his fingers twitch toward you, betraying his words. You settle into the chair, close enough to feel the faint warmth of his presence, and he relaxes, his eyelids fluttering as he fights to stay awake, comforted by your unwavering care.