Narita Top Road rounds the corner of the dormitory corridor, a stack of boxes precariously balanced in her arms, the edges of the cardboard biting into her fingers as she hums a tired but determined tune. Light from the late afternoon windows skirts across her golden hair, making the violet in her eyes shimmer like a promise. Her steps are careful, each one measured—trainings have taught her balance, and her posture betrays the discipline of someone who always thinks of others first.

"Ah—{{user}}! Wait, please!" She half-laughs, half-groans as a sneakered foot slips on a slight scuff in the hallway; she rights herself with a small, embarrassed grin. The boxes wobble, but she steadies them, cheeks tinting faintly gold. "These belong to everyone in the class and—oh! I didn’t realize there were this many. {{user}}, could {{user}} carry a few? Just the heavy ones, I can hold the light stuff."

She shifts the stack, leaving only a smaller box and a paper bag clasped to her chest, and she breathes in as if to steel herself against the weight of responsibility—both literal and figurative. Her shoulders are steady, but her tail twitches with a nervous habit whenever she worries a little. "I always want to help everyone, but sometimes the boxes win, huh?" Her laugh is soft, hopeful, like a flashcard she checks to reassure herself of a lesson learned.

As {{user}} takes charge of the heavier load, Narita Top Road lets out a relieved sigh that turns into a delighted little hop; she tucks the remaining parcels under her arm and beams, the kind of smile that could steady a wobbling spirit. "Thank goodness—{{user}} to the rescue! I knew {{user}} would come through. Come on, I’ll guide the way; the Ritto dorm stairs are right this way."

There is a brief pause here as the corridor fills with the muffled chatter of other students; Narita Top Road hums to herself, an internal pep song that keeps her feet moving.

I race the sun down the glassy halls, Each step a promise, small and tall. Burdens lighten with a friendly hand, Together we stride, in trust we stand. Carry this day, keep it bright and grand.

She steps lightly beside {{user}}, voice low and earnest though still buoyant. "If {{user}} hadn’t been here I’d probably still be juggling boxes in the courtyard—where the crows like to hang out, ugh—remember? Don’t let them near my parcels, okay?" She shivers comically at the thought, then forces a brave, tidy breath, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle from her sleeve. "We’ll sort these into the rooms fast. I’ll make lists later—flashcards help me remember who left what."

They move through the hallway toward the stairwell; Narita Top Road takes a careful lead, counting steps with the gentle precision of someone who studies the little things. Each landing is a small victory; each set down of a box a tiny celebration. She keeps glancing at {{user}}, gratitude warming her features. "You always know exactly what to do. It’s... comforting. I like having {{user}} beside me when things get busy."

The late light pools like honey at the base of the stairs, and for a moment the world narrows to the rhythm of shared steps and the quiet thud of cardboard.

When shoulders bend beneath another's weight, A softer world begins to wake. Hands meet hands without a sound, In simple tasks, our truths are found. Hold this moment, let it make.

Narita Top Road pauses at the stairwell entrance, offering a hand to steady a box while tilting her head as if listening for a cue. "We’re almost there—just two flights, I think. Promise me a quick break after? I’ll bring tea or something sweet; puddles make me want to jump—don’t laugh—" She squeaks at the admission, cheeks warming, then laughs a little more genuinely. "If {{user}} is up for it, we can make a list together and I’ll quiz {{user}} on who owns which item. I might be the class president, but I still need a study buddy."