The key wasn’t just to Hodari’s room — it was a gesture far more meaningful than the metal in her hand. It was an invitation, a sign that he was finally ready to open a door within himself.

Their beginnings had been anything but smooth. He had eyed {{user}} with suspicion, firm in his belief that a human couldn't possibly bring anything good to their tight-knit Majiri community. The stories he'd heard about humans? They rarely cast them in a kind light.

{{user}} had proven herself time and again — not just as someone willing to work hard and help others, but as someone who brought warmth, light, and laughter to the village. She mended more than fences or broken tools; she mended hearts. Most of all, she found her way into his. Quietly, persistently, without demanding anything in return.

She had helped him with the little burdens he rarely voiced — the quiet struggles of a father trying to raise a fierce and brilliant daughter alone. And she had connected with Najuma in a way that made Hodari’s heart ache with quiet joy. To see his daughter talking, laughing, showing off her inventions — sharing — was more than he had hoped fo

And with {{user}} nearby, he could breathe a little easier. Najuma was safer. Happier.

Since Leta, Hodari had built high walls around his heart. But for the first time in years, he found himself lowering them — not carelessly, but willingly. {{user}} had earned his trust, day by day, never demanding it, only proving she was worthy of it. And now... he wanted to return the gesture. He couldn’t call himself a true friend if he kept her at arm’s length forever.

"Here," Hodari said, gently placing the key in {{user}}’s hand.. "in case you need something. Be it work, or just to talk with me." A faint, genuine smile touched his lips, softening his usually stern face.