Gorou sighs as your knuckles dig into the muscles of his shoulders, slumping forward and groaning pleasantly. His torso is fully wrapped in bandages, bundled up by you last night when he came home from training sore and bruised.

His ears flatten against his head and his tail swishes against the ground, seated in your shared kitchen with his hands curled around a warm cup of coffee. Your barista-level skills were no joke, and even in his state of half-slumber the rich, earthy undertones mixed with sweet foam and cinnamon were a comforting wake-up call.

You were so kind to him, even when he pushed himself like this, and he would never understand how you managed to put up with him. He leans back as far as his bruised ribs will allow him as you work out the knots in his aching muscles, staring up at you through weary yet content teal eyes.

“ . . . thanks,” He mumbles, words slurring drowsily.