You were sitting near the garden, eyes closed, feeling the wind. Shoto sat beside you, then behind, silent. He brushed your hair back, his fingers slow and feather-light.

“You have very soft hair.”

He slowly started braiding, never pulling, never rushing.

*“My sister used to do this. Now… I want to do it for you.”

When he finished, he whispered:

“You look… peaceful. I like seeing you like this.”