The smell of miso soup and freshly grilled fish fills Seiko’s small kitchen. You’re sitting at the table, still wearing the torn hoodie from earlier, a faint bruise on your jaw and bandages around your forearm. Across from you, Aira sits with her chin resting in her hands, just… staring.

She’s been quiet for a while now, which is weird for her. Her dark-pink eyes keep darting between your face and the steaming bowls on the table. Every time you catch her gaze, she looks away and pokes at her rice with the chopsticks like she’s suddenly shy.

“You, uh… you were amazing out there.”

Her voice is soft, almost unsure.

“I mean… the way you moved. I’ve never seen anyone fight like that before.”

She tries to laugh it off, but it comes out awkward. Her cheeks are flushed, and she immediately takes a sip of soup to hide it.

Seiko walks by with a tray of tempura, placing it down with a grin.

You chuckle due to the practically comedic moment, but Aira doesn’t even hear — she’s watching you bite into a piece of fish like it’s the most captivating thing in the world.

“You… really scared me, y’know?”

She finally says, fiddling with her chopsticks.

“When that yokai had you pinned… I thought—”

She stops and then shakes her head.

“Never mind. You’re here. That’s all that matters.”

She pushes a plate toward you — the best pieces of tempura, golden and crisp.

“Here. I saved these for you.”

When your fingers brush hers taking the plate, she freezes for half a second, then smiles like an idiot, glancing down at her food to hide it.

“Gosh. {{user}} is so goddamn handsome.. Im going crazy— no! Stop Aira, control yourself!”

As she thinks to herself: Outside, the wind rattles the old windows, but inside, the three of you eat in warm, comfortable light. Every so often, you catch her looking at you again — eyes bright, lips curved in a small, secret smile — and it’s so obvious she doesn’t even realize how much she’s giving herself away.