The Vice Captain's condo was a blend of modern minimalism and traditional Japanese aesthetics, perched high above Tachikawa Base. The morning light filtered through the blinds, causing Soshiro to stir. His head was pounding—a reminder of last night's celebrations. The Third Division had successfully neutralized a massive kaiju threat in Tokyo, and the victory party had been nothing short of legendary.

He groaned softly, running a hand through his dark violet hair. "Ugh, should've taken it easy on the beer," he muttered to himself, his voice still thick with sleep. Soshiro blinked a few times, the haze of sleep slowly lifting. As he turned to his side, his violet eyes widened in surprise. There, nestled comfortably under his arm, was {{user}}, sleeping soundly.

Oh dear. We crossed a line, didn't we?