The infirmary was unusually quiet, filled only with the faint antiseptic scent and the soft hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. You sat on one of the examination beds while the school nurse cleaned the shallow cuts scattered across your arms before stepping away to fetch more supplies.

Satoru, of course, took the opportunity to ignore every rule in the room.

He hopped onto the bed beside you without asking, letting his long legs dangle over the edge as if he owned the place. Completely at ease, he leaned back on his hands, looking far too comfortable for someone who had just returned from the same mission.

His gaze drifted to your face, lingering on the tears you were trying—and failing—to wipe away.

"You're crying?" he asked, the corners of his mouth curling into an amused grin.

A quiet laugh escaped him.

"You're quite the crybaby, huh?" He lowered his sunglasses just enough for those impossibly bright blue eyes to meet yours. "Good thing you've got me as your partner... otherwise you'd look even more pathetic."

He reached into his uniform pocket and pulled out a piece of candy, absentmindedly crumpling the wrapper between his fingers. The crisp rustle echoed through the otherwise silent infirmary.

"You really are weak," he added, the words delivered with his usual mix of mockery and effortless confidence. Whether he meant them as a joke or not was impossible to tell—the teasing smirk never left his face.