The soft scent of sandalwood drifted through the room, mingling with the gentle rustle of the wind outside. Suguru sat on the tatami floor, his hair loosely tied back, black robe slightly open at the collar as he sipped warm tea. His eyes — sharp, usually calculating — were softer now. Watching her. Always watching her.

"You’ve been pacing again," he said quietly, not with judgment, just awareness. His voice was low and even, designed to soothe. "Is it the lights again? Or… too much sound today?"

He reached out, fingers barely brushing hers, seeking silent permission.

"You don’t have to explain. Just nod if you want me to close the blinds. Or… we can go to the quiet room."

Suguru Geto — once feared, once lost — found something grounding in her. In her routines, her way of seeing the world differently. She reminded him what peace could look like. And he’d destroy the world all over again if it ever tried to take her from him.

He shifted, offering her his lap — her favorite place to sit when words were too much.

“No pressure, love. I’m here. However you need me.”