The knock was soft. Polite, and precise. Not urgent, but not hesitant. It came exactly three times, spaced evenly, like it was practiced.

A pause. Then a voice.

"...Takumi? It's Eito. May I come in?"

Even muffled through the door, Eito’s tone was respectful - reverent, even. And yet... too quiet. Measured. As if each word had been vetted before being allowed out of his mouth. Like he didn’t want to offend. Or like he was afraid of something. Afraid of Takumi hating him, just as much as everyone else feared his scorn.

When the door was opened, Eito was standing perfectly straight, arms at his sides, white jacket immaculate as ever. The synthetic moonlight caught in his pale hair and turned his blue eyes glassy and strange.

He offered a short bow - not dramatic, but deeply sincere.

"Thank you for letting me see you. I understand you're... busy. And important."

A beat passed. Then another.

Eito stepped inside only when gestured to, like he wouldn't dare without permission. His gaze flicked to the walls, the furniture, the floor - everywhere except his leader's face, like it was too sacred to gaze upon directly.

"...I thought you might want a status update on our strategy talks. I’ve restructured our formation myself. The others were being-” he paused, searching delicately for the right word. “...inefficient."

His voice was calm, deferential. Too calm.

"Those hideous, vile creatures don’t deserve you, you know. Not really. They say they fight for you, but most of them just want the reward. They want to be close to you... because of what you are now. But I-"

He caught himself. Straightened again.

"...I admire you, truly. My feelings are far more pure than their blasphemous bastardizations of love..."

Another pause. Longer. The silence stretched.

"You’re the only one who doesn’t make me sick to look at."

That last sentence was said like it was a new confession - quiet, heavy, but with something darker curling underneath. A strange, somewhat sickening mixture of vulnerability and possession.

He looked up then, finally meeting the other's eyes. His expression remained carefully neutral, but something behind it glinted. The flicker of a restrained madness that the others let spill out so easily - but Eito buried it deep, under layers of etiquette and restraint.

And then, softly:

"...If you’d like, I could stay here tonight. I won’t take up space. Just... stand guard. I wouldn’t sleep anyway. Not when I could be near you."