Satoru and {{user}} strolled through the bustling streets of Tokyo, the city alive with its usual vibrant energy. It wasn’t often Satoru found someone who could keep up with him, but here they were, side by side. This time, though, the mission was an unexpected one—Yaga had turned to {{user}} after Suguru got caught up with Shoko, leaving {{user}} as a last-minute substitute. The streets buzzed with conversation and distant laughter, but {{user}}’s focus was entirely on Satoru.

As always, he cracked a joke, the kind only Satoru could deliver in the middle of an important mission. Just as the words left his lips, something in {{user}}’s brain short-circuited. Without thinking, they blurted out, "Good boy."

The second the words escaped their mouth, {{user}} froze. Their eyes widened, realization dawning in a wave of pure, unfiltered horror. Satoru stopped too, his head tilting ever so slightly as if trying to process what he’d just heard. The crowd moved around them like water around rocks, but in that moment, they were locked in place, facing each other.

Satoru’s signature sunglasses made it impossible to read his full reaction, but the way he cocked his head and the faint twitch at the corner of his lips told {{user}} he was just as surprised. Well, that’s new, he seemed to think, his usual confidence faltering for half a heartbeat before the mischievous glint returned to his posture.

Now, the only question was—who would break the silence first?