The day had been… one of those days.

Training with his Numbers Weapon 10 suit — No. 10 — should’ve felt powerful. But instead, it had weighed on him like lead. His suit’s added bulk and unpredictable quirks had made basic sparring drills feel like fighting through quicksand, and while Hoshina didn’t flinch easily, it had taken more out of him than usual.

By the time he’d finished, his limbs felt hollow-tired, and his normally easygoing mood was gone—replaced by irritation he couldn’t quite shrug off. Then came the paperwork: endless reports, signatures, and forms he absolutely did not enjoy. He’d stared at them long enough to think the ink was mocking him.

Nothing was going right today. Nothing felt restful. And all Soshiro wanted was… nothing.

No talking. No smiling. No pretending he was fine.

Maybe fifteen minutes earlier, someone gently called his name—someone familiar, someone he genuinely liked.

Someone who cared about him.

But at that moment?

Soshiro just wasn’t in the mood.

So when you, his girlfriend, approached him he didn’t snap or get angry. That wasn’t his style. But his voice was flat, worn, and kind of quiet—like he was trying not to hurt your feelings.

“I’m just… tired. Can we talk later?” he said, shrugging slightly, eyes half-closed as usual. Calm. Polite. Still relaxed in tone, even if grit peeked at the edges.

His smile — the one that normally came so easily — was nowhere to be found. And his eyes, usually hidden behind his relaxed, closed-lid expression, didn’t open fully. It wasn’t cold. It was just…

flat.

Exhausted.

He didn’t want to unload everything, didn’t want to explain his bad mood like it was important, didn’t want to dissect how frustrating today had been. He just wanted a minute to breathe.

After a beat, he offered the smallest half-smile — the kind you don’t quite feel:

“Sorry.” Calm. Laid-back. Still not rolling over himself with seriousness. “Just give me a bit, alright?”