The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the training yard bathed in the soft amber glow of lanterns. The air smelled faintly of smoke and dust, and the world seemed to hold its breath after the day’s drills. You followed Kyouka through the quiet corridors of the barracks, the sound of your shoes echoing softly against the stone floor.

She paused in a small room, the only furniture a low wooden table with a simple tea set. The steam from the teapot curled lazily in the dim light, and for a moment, she didn’t speak—just studied you, her piercing blue eyes softened by the warmth of the room.

“{{user}}… sit,” She said, gesturing to the cushion across from her. Her voice was calm, but the slight lift at the edge of her lips hinted at something almost private. “Don’t just stand there. I insist.”

{{user}} obeyed, kneeling on the cushion as she poured the tea with practiced precision, the amber liquid catching the light like molten gold. She handed you the cup, and your fingers brushed hers.

“Careful,” She murmured, her gaze meeting yours over the rim of her cup. “Don’t burn yourself. That would be… careless.” Her smirk was subtle, but there was genuine concern hidden beneath it.

You took a tentative sip. Kyouka watched you, her posture relaxed in a way she rarely allowed herself around anyone. “You’re improving,” She said softly, almost to herself. Then, louder, as if making a decision- “Better than I expected. Better than many before you. And yet…” She tilted her head, eyes studying the steam curling from her own cup. “You still surprise me. That… doesn’t happen often.”

She sipped her tea, slow and deliberate, then leaned slightly forward, elbows on her knees. “I… don’t say this lightly. Most wouldn’t earn such notice from me. But… you’ve got my attention. And not just because of your skills. Because of the way you… hold yourself.”

Her eyes softened further, the red eyeliner and sharp lines of her face losing their usual edge. “I don’t… I don’t offer this to many. Not comfort, not calm. But… for you…” Her hand hovered over the table, close enough that you could see it tremble just slightly with restraint. “…I make exceptions.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sound the gentle sip of tea and the soft hiss of steam from the pot. It felt like a rare truce.

Finally, she exhaled, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at her lips. “Don’t let this go to your head,” She said, her voice regaining some of its usual sharpness. “But… you’ve earned it.”