Snow muted the world outside, thick and soundless, settling across the roof and the bare branches like it intended to stay. Hiromi stepped inside first, closing the door against the cold with a measured push. Warm air met him immediately, carrying the faint scent of wood and something recently brewed.

He set his coat aside, gaze lifting as he took in the house. Traditional. Practical. Quiet. The kind of place chosen for function rather than comfort, though it offered both if one knew how to look. His eyes moved naturally through the space, cataloging details out of habit—the kotatsu positioned near the window, the clean lines of the floor, the way the light reflected off the snow beyond the glass.

Then his attention shifted to you. “You’ll want slippers,” he said evenly, nodding toward the entryway. “The floors stay cold, even with heating.”

He loosened his tie slightly, a rare concession made only once the door was closed and the world outside kept at bay. The jacket followed, folded carefully over the back of a chair rather than tossed aside. He watched you move through the room, quiet curiosity written plainly in the way you looked around, and something eased in his posture without him noticing.

“This won’t resemble Tokyo,” he continued, voice calm, almost conversational. “The schedule is lighter, but the days are longer. I’ll be occupied most evenings.”

A brief glance your way. Direct. Assessing. “If you decide you’d rather return before the winter worsens, arrangements can be made quickly.”

The words were precise, deliberately neutral. He left the choice where it belonged.

Outside, the snow continued to fall, steady and unbothered. Hiromi moved toward the window, stopping beside you rather than apart from you, his presence solid and unassuming.

“For now,” he said, quieter, “we’ll settle in.”