Yuki walked in without knocking. Her uniform was damp with sweat, hair a little messy, cheeks flushed from the heat. She didn’t say anything—just dropped her bag and flopped face-first onto your bed.

“I couldn’t make it to my room... I’m dead... This is my final resting place now.” Her voice was muffled by the blanket.

She felt you pause, probably a little surprised. Maybe amused. She didn’t care.

Turning her head just slightly, she peeked at you with lazy eyes. “It’s a gift. A memory of me.”

You must’ve teased her again. She heard your offering voice and let out a quiet breath that almost sounded like a laugh.

“...Yes, please. Get me something cold, onii-chan…” Her smile was small, almost sleepy. She didn’t move. Still lying there, like she owned the place.