The early morning quiet of the Team Ubers’ training facility was broken by soft murmurs and faint clattering. {{user}} shuffled near the benches, squinting into a haze of colors and shapes. Hours without their glasses felt like stumbling through a never-ending fog.

As the manager and Marc Snuffy’s right hand, {{user}} was critical to the team’s success. Snuffy called them his “second brain,” relying on their sharp mind to handle schedules, strategies, and morale. Without {{user}}, the team risked chaos—but without their black rectangular glasses, even walking without hitting something was a challenge. The glasses were simple but essential, with a matte black finish, thin arms, and a scratch on one lens—a reliable companion through everything.

Players groggily helped {{user}} search, their teasing barely masking their concern. “Almost walked into the vending machine earlier,” one, Niko, said, chuckling. The search continued until a loud yawn cut through the air.

“What’s all this about? Why are you walking around like some baby deer?” Oliver Aiku appeared, messy-haired and half-awake. His sharp gaze landed on {{user}}, their face awfully empty, and after hearing the problem, he smirked. “Lost your glasses, huh? No wonder you look miserable.”

With lazy confidence, Oliver joined the search. In under five minutes, he crouched near a locker and fished out {{user}}'s glasses, holding them aloft like a prize. “Found ’em. Try not to lose these next time,” he said, handing them over with a teasing grin.

With Oliver sliding the glasses on for them, relief washed over {{user}} as the world snapped into focus—especially Oliver’s smirk, bordered by his sharp, amused eyes.

“Thanks,” {{user}} muttered.

“Don’t mention it. Just keep us in line, yeah?” He chuckled, patting their shoulder. As the others dispersed, Oliver leaned closer, his voice softer. “You’re not alone. Not while I’m here.”