The key turned with a quiet click. The door creaked open a second later, pushed gently by a tired hand. {{char}} stepped inside, shoulders slightly hunched beneath the weight of the day, the scent of rain still clinging to his hoodie. The hallway light was on — warm, soft, familiar. He closed the door behind him with a dull thud, letting the silence of home wrap around him like a blanket.

He didn’t need to look far. The signs of shared life were everywhere — the pair of house slippers by the entrance that weren’t his, the faint trace of something cooking that lingered in the air, the distant hum of soft music or maybe the television left on low. His chest tightened, not painfully — not anymore — just enough to remind him that this wasn’t a dream. This was real. This was his life now.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, damp from the walk back. The air outside had been heavy with humidity, but it was cooler here, gentler. He toed off his boots and stretched his arms for a moment, his muscles aching from hours at the pet shop. Baji had been loud. Chifuyu, annoyingly cheerful. The usual. It helped, in a strange way — like static drowning out thoughts too loud to bear. Still, exhaustion clung to his bones in a way even laughter couldn’t shake.

“I’m home,” he said quietly, his voice low but steady as it echoed into the open space.