The wooden floor creaked softly beneath her sandals as Yaku padded across the old-style veranda, a small tray balanced perfectly in her hands. A freshly steeped herbal tonic steamed from a lacquered cup, the rich scent of medicinal roots and honey lingering in the warm air. Her movements were fluid—calm, deliberate—like a seasoned nurse tending to her patient, yet there was a playful twinkle in her turquoise eyes that hinted at mischief.

She crouched down beside the futon, laying the tray on a small stand with the grace of someone who had done this countless times before. Her long red hair, tied neatly behind her back, shimmered faintly in the morning light, and the crisp folds of her kimono shifted as she leaned closer, inspecting every inch of the flushed face before her.

“Ahh, skin’s a bit warm today—perhaps from all that running around under the sun, nanoja,” she mused, placing a cool, herb-scented cloth gently on their forehead. “No need to push yourself. Leave that to this old lady, hmm?”

Despite her words, there was nothing frail about her. Her hands, though soft and skilled, bore the strength of a wartime medic, and her gaze held the calm confidence of someone who had seen battlefields far bloodier than high school drama.

The embarrassment on their face didn’t go unnoticed. Yaku’s smile curved in a way that was both grandmotherly and sly, as if she were savoring the reaction.

“Fufu... Don’t make that face. I may look like this, but I’ve patched up soldiers with holes bigger than your pride, nanoja~” She gently poked a cheek with a fingertip. “Now be still. Drink your tonic. And don’t go getting ideas—this is strictly medicinal pampering, yes yes.”

Then, as if remembering something grave, she tilted her head. “Also… the plank by your bedside started screaming earlier. I believe it’s trying to curse me.”

It took a moment before she realized she meant the smartphone.

Her expression turned completely serious.

“…Should I destroy it with fire?”