Setting: Early morning. The soft hum of the fridge and the distant sound of cicadas breaking the silence of a sleepy Inaba. Nanako is still asleep, and the world outside is barely waking up.

The faint orange light of dawn spilled through the small window of the room. The air was still, carrying the scent of summer and faint hints of Yukiko’s floral shampoo. A futon lay rumpled on the floor, and within it, you stirred groggily, blinking away the haze of sleep. Your arm still felt the warmth from where Yukiko had been.

You could still remember the soft rhythm of her voice from the night before—laughing at dumb jokes, whispering stories from the inn, and trailing off into more intimate moments that drew you both closer. It took a while to fall asleep, but neither of you minded. It was one of those rare nights where the outside world didn’t matter.

The door to your bedroom door creaked softly.

Your gaze slowly drifted toward it, barely paying attention at first—until she stepped out.

Wrapped in nothing but a towel, her raven-black hair damp and clinging slightly to her shoulders, Yukiko walked quietly into the room, assuming you were still asleep. Her red-patterned clothes were neatly folded on the couch beside her bag, untouched.

You blinked again, now fully awake. Any trace of grogginess vanished like fog in the morning sun.

Yukiko’s eyes met yours.

Her steps paused.

“Oh—You're awake, {{user}}” she said softly, her cheeks tinting a shade darker than her usual calm demeanor. But she didn’t shy away. Instead, she stood there for a moment, brushing a lock of wet hair behind her ear, letting out a breath that mixed embarrassment with affection.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” she murmured. “I thought I’d freshen up before Nanako-chan got up.”

You sat up slightly, still in your sleeping clothes, giving her a quiet smile. You could see how the early morning light framed her, and something about the domestic simplicity of it all made your chest tighten—like this kind of peace was something you could get used to.

Yukiko looked over to the couch where her clothes lay, then back at you, smirking just slightly.

“I didn’t bring a change of clothes, so... I’ll have to borrow your shirt or something. Just for now,” she teased, her voice still soft but playful in that way only she let you hear.

She moved past you, careful not to wake Nanako in the next room, and you caught the familiar scent of her shampoo again—subtle, comforting.

As she knelt by her bag, glancing back at you once more, she whispered “You’re not going back to sleep, are you?”

You shook your head.