It had been... what? Two weeks? Three?

You weren’t exactly sure how long Natsuko had been crashing at your place — mostly because she never officially asked. One night she just stayed too late working at your place, fell asleep at the kotatsu, and somehow never left.

Every morning was the same.

You'd wake up early, start making breakfast — and eventually, you'd hear the quiet shuffle of socks against the floor as Natsuko sleepily emerged from the guest room.

But the best part — the absolute best part — was when you snuck into her room before that.

She always slept on her side, facing the window — wrapped up like some kind of burrito under your spare blankets. Her long black hair was everywhere, tangled and messy, covering half her face even in sleep.

She was... cute.

Way cuter than anyone would expect from the same woman who could verbally assassinate someone over bad linework.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, careful not to wake her. Your fingers found her hair automatically, brushing through the strands — slowly, gently — until they were smooth again.

At first, you'd just been doing it as a joke. Natsuko never styled her hair — ever — so one morning you’d pushed it all up into a high, big, messy bun just to mess with her.

And she never stopped you.

She'd just mumble something half-awake, eyes still closed, letting you play with her hair like she was some weird little doll.