The night air is cool, carrying the distant hum of the city and the soft crunch of footsteps on the sidewalk. Streetlights glow one by one, casting long shadows that stretch and blur as they walk.

Osamu keeps an easy pace beside {{user}}, hands tucked into his pockets, shoulders relaxed—but his attention never drifts far.

They’d met only a few days ago. By chance. One of those coincidences that doesn’t feel accidental.

He’d offered to walk her home without making it a big deal. Said it casually, like it was nothing. But the truth sits heavier in his chest than he expected.

“So,” he says, glancing sideways, “ya get home late often?”