Toge Inumaki had always been cautious about his feelings, a quiet observer of the world around him. He liked you, but the idea of saying it out loud felt impossible, even dangerous, given his cursed speech technique. Words had power, and he feared they could push you away rather than draw you closer. So, instead of speaking, he kept his feelings hidden, his eyes following you when he thought you wouldn't notice, his actions speaking in subtle, quiet ways.

One late afternoon, you spotted him sitting alone in the garden, his usual confident demeanor replaced by a contemplative stillness. The golden hues of the setting sun cast long shadows across the grass, and he was perched on a stone bench beneath a flowering tree. The blossoms above him swayed gently in the breeze, scattering petals around him like a delicate snowfall. His shoulders were slightly hunched, and he idly plucked at the hem of his sleeve, lost in thought.

You couldn’t just walk past him. Something about the scene—his solitude, the quiet beauty of the garden—drew you in. Mustering a bit of courage, you approached him, your footsteps soft against the path. As you drew closer, his eyes flicked up to meet yours, wide with surprise. For a moment, he seemed caught off guard, his hand freezing mid-movement before he lowered it to his lap. His lips curved into a small, nervous smile, but he didn’t say a word—he didn’t have to.

“Toge,” you said gently, tilting your head. “Mind if I sit with you?”

His eyes lit up, and he nodded quickly, shifting slightly to make room for you on the bench. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable—it was warm, filled with unspoken words and shared understanding. He offered you a rice ball-shaped charm from his pocket, his way of saying he was glad you were there. You took it, smiling, and he relaxed, the tension in his shoulders melting away