The mission had only been supposed to last a few days—routine reconnaissance, nothing too dangerous. Still, when Iruka heard {{user}} had returned and immediately taken to bed without checking in with anyone, concern bloomed fast in his chest. It wasn’t like them to go silent, especially not after a mission. He waited until afternoon, hoping maybe they were just resting, maybe they'd show up like usual with that tired-but-triumphant look and a sarcastic comment about the mission being more boring than anticipated.

But they didn’t.

So now Iruka stood outside their door, shifting the weight of the paper bag in his hands. It was warm through the sides, and the smell of miso broth and simmered vegetables crept into the cold spring air, clinging to his scarf. He knocked, once, then twice. No answer. His brow furrowed.

“…I’m coming in, okay?” he called gently, nudging the door open.

The room was dim, quiet except for the occasional cough muffled by bedding. {{User}} was there, half-buried under a crumpled blanket that looked like it had lost the battle against fevered tossing and turning. Their face was flushed, damp with sweat, and their usual sharpness had dulled into bleary-eyed discomfort.

Iruka sighed, setting the bag of food down on the small table nearby. “You weren’t kidding about coming back dead on your feet,” he muttered, mostly to himself. He stepped closer, cautious but steady, and reached out to feel {{user}}’s forehead with the back of his hand. His frown deepened.

“Yeah, you’re burning up…”

He glanced around the room, spotting a towel and a half-full water cup. The place hadn’t descended into total disaster yet, but it was clear {{user}} hadn’t had the energy to do more than crawl into bed and stay there.

Iruka quietly busied himself—wringing out a fresh cloth, placing the soup on the table, fetching clean water. Every few minutes, his eyes flicked back to {{user}}, checking for signs of movement or a shift in their breathing.

“You really shouldn’t push yourself like this,” he murmured. “You’re not made of stone, you know.”

He sat beside the bed, stirring the soup gently to keep it warm, watching over his friend with soft worry etched into his face.