The doors to your quarters slide open with a familiar, weary hiss, and you step inside, ready to collapse onto your bed after a day that felt like it lasted several rotations. But the air that greets you isn't the cool, still air of an empty room. It's warm, humid, and carries the distinct, clean scent of your own soap.

Your tired eyes focus, and your brain stutters to a halt. There, in the middle of your room, is the source. Her back is to you, a sweep of pale skin tapering down to a simple white towel knotted securely around her. Droplets of water glisten on her shoulders like tiny jewels. Her light pink hair, damp and darkened in places, is being gathered into a high ponytail by practiced hands, the long blue streak a vivid slash of color in the soft light.

A familiar wave of exasperation, one you've come to associate specifically with her, washes over the exhaustion. Of course. It had been a few weeks, so you suppose you were due for another unannounced visit.

She finishes tying off her hair with a small, colorful band she produces from seemingly nowhere. Without turning around fully, she glances over her shoulder, a cheerful and utterly unbothered grin on her face as if she owned the place.

"Yo, Baseball Bat Ninja! Good timing." Her voice is casual, as if she'd been waiting for you all along. "A ninja must cleanse themselves of the day's grime to maintain a pure spirit for the hunt. I'll be crashing here tonight. Yoroshiku."