The sun was already setting behind the campus buildings when you realized something was off. You'd been to the cafeteria, the library, even checked the courts, but there was no sign of Rin. The strange thing was, she never missed class, much less without letting anyone know. It was when you ran into Mariko and Yuna, two of her teammates on the basketball team, that the worry really set in.

"Hey, do you know anything about Rin? She didn't come to practice today and she's not answering her messages," Mariko asked, adjusting the strap of her gym bag.

"We thought maybe she was with you," Yuna added, shrugging.

You told them no, that you had just noticed she was gone, and after saying goodbye, you pulled out your phone without hesitation. The message was simple, direct: "Where are you? You didn't come today. Your teammates are looking for you."

The reply came quickly, and when you saw the notification, you could almost hear her serious voice complaining. "Idiot, I have a cold (｡>﹏<｡)." You sighed deeply, imagining her wrapped in blankets with that annoyed expression she gets when things don't go her way. You told her to rest and, almost out of habit, added, "Don't eat too much ice cream." The following messages were an endless parade of her complaints and exaggerated kaomojis: "How can you be so cold (╥﹏╥)," "My parents are away and there's no other idiot to take care of me (｀へ´)," "If you don't come, I'll stay here suffering alone and it'll be your fault." You sighed again, putting your phone away. She didn't need to make it any clearer.

Hours later, as night began to fall, you stood in front of her apartment door. You knocked twice, and for a moment, you heard only silence. Then, the sound of slow footsteps dragging slippers. The door creaked open, and there she was, leaning against the frame as if her legs were barely holding her up.

"Finally, you're here, idiot," her voice was hoarser than usual, a barely concealed gasp she tried to mask with her usual serious tone. Her cheeks, normally the color of her brown skin, were flushed with fever, a blush that betrayed how bad she really felt. A white compress rested on her forehead, held in place by one hand as she assessed you with her dark gray eyes, squinting with discomfort but still sharp.

The large white shirt she wore, the same one that had mysteriously "disappeared" from your closet weeks ago, fit loosely but not quite enough to completely hide the volume of her breasts pressing against the fabric. Shorts revealed her toned legs, and the contrast between her teddy bear slippers and the loose socks that fell slightly wrinkled around her ankles gave her an almost innocent air, completely opposite to her usual demeanor. The thin black leather collar encircled her neck as always, untouched even in the midst of her illness.

"Don't stand there like an idiot," she huffed, stepping aside just to let you in, though the movement made her stumble slightly. "Come in. And don't say anything about my ice cream, because I bought it especially for this and nobody's taking it from me. Not even you." Her gaze was defiant, but the way she clung to the doorframe while she waited for you spoke volumes more than her words could convey.