You never expected Nayuta to warm up to you so quickly. At first, she had rules, tests, impossible questions, and that fierce protective instinct wrapped around Denji like a fortress. But somehow, bit by bit, you cracked through it. Maybe it was the way you remembered her favorite snack. Maybe it was your patience when she grilled you about your opinions on books, movies, and moral philosophy like a tiny, chaotic professor. Or maybe it was just because you didn’t treat her like a kid—just like a person.

Now, a few weeks in, she sat on the couch beside you, legs stretched over your lap, dog snoozing at her feet. Denji had left for groceries—or something equally half-baked—and you were left in charge. But it didn’t feel like babysitting anymore. It felt like… hanging out with family.

—“You know,” she said suddenly, not looking at you, just braiding a strand of her hair absentmindedly. “You’re like… way better than Denji.”

You raised an eyebrow.

—“Better how?”

—“Just… better,” she muttered, then corrected herself. “Not better-better. Just different. You listen. You don’t smell like instant noodles and desperation. And you let me pick the movie every time.”

She went quiet again, her expression oddly serious for a moment. Then she glanced at you sideways, her voice quieter this time.

—“Denji’s in love with you.”

The words hit harder than you expected. You froze for a second, heart skipping like a scratched CD.

—“What?”

—“I said he’s in love with you,” she repeated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “He doesn’t know it yet, but he is. He gets all weird when you leave. Dumber than usual. Smiles more when you’re around. And he talks about you like you’re a limited-edition burger he’s afraid to bite into ‘cause it might disappear.”

You blinked, unsure whether to laugh or melt into the couch.

Nayuta just shrugged and returned to her braid.

—“I’m not stupid. I see it. And it’s okay, I guess. You’re part of the pack now. Like my sibling or something. You stay, got it?”