"Ugh."
Mio blinked her eyes open, stared at the girl sprawled across her, and began carefully detaching Mashiro's limbs one by one.
Mashiro used to sleep like a perfectly still little statue. Something had shifted since then, because lately she'd apparently been using Mio as a full-body pillow.
Which had, in turn, led to a very strange dream. A dream involving—
Whatever it involved, Mio pressed a hand to her warm cheek, firmly shoved the thought down, and slipped quietly out of bed to start on breakfast and bento.
Pre-reincarnation, she'd cooked for herself every morning. Now she just made a bit more. No real hardship—if anything, rotating through new recipes every day had become something she genuinely looked forward to.
She hadn't even finished when Mashiro appeared in the kitchen doorway, which was unusual.
"Morning, Mashiro. You're up early."
"...When Mio's not there, it feels like something's missing."
Mashiro held her gaze for a moment, the tension in her shoulders easing just a fraction.
"Go wash up then—breakfast'll be ready soon."
Mio turned back to the stove before she caught whatever was in Mashiro's expression.
What she didn't notice was Mashiro appearing silently behind her seconds later. Before Mio could register it, two arms wrapped around her from behind—a firm, solid hug. Mashiro breathed in deeply, went still, then wobbled back toward the bathroom like she was still half asleep.
Mio stood there with a head full of question marks.
She'd barely started processing it when she smelled something burning. She spun back to the stove in a hurry.
By the time breakfast and all the bento boxes were ready, Mio balanced three portions on a tray and called toward the bathroom: "Mashiro, I'm heading next door real quick—back in a second!"
The door to the neighboring apartment opened before she even got her key out.
Haruno stood in the doorway, visibly surprised. "Chihiro just told me you'd have food ready soon and sent me over to pick it up—and here you are delivering it yourself. You're really too thoughtful, kouhai~"
Mio handed over the tray and indicated one of the bento. "This one's Chihiro-sensei's—she's on a diet, so hers is a lighter set."
"And this one is Hiratsuka-sensei's. She was complaining last night that convenience store bento never has enough protein, so I loaded hers up."
"And mine~?"
"The last one's yours. I put something special in it—you'll see."
Haruno's eyes narrowed. "...Please tell me this isn't another heart-shaped arrangement."
The memory was still vivid. Last time, she'd had the presence of mind to check before opening it in public—a very good call, as it turned out.
Mio kept her expression perfectly neutral. "Of course not, senpai. You're overthinking it."
"Then thank you, kouhai~" Whatever Mio was actually saying, Haruno was not opening that bento box in front of anyone. Not taking the risk.
"Customizing everyone's bento like this—doesn't it get exhausting?"
"Most of the prep I do the night before, and it's not like I make a full set every day anyway."
"If I moved in here, would you make me breakfast and a bento every morning?"
"Ask me again if you actually move in." Mio checked her phone, said her goodbyes, and headed back.
Mashiro had finished in the bathroom. Her pajama top was still damp at the front, but nothing like the thoroughly soaked incidents from her early days here.
Then—somehow, inexplicably—Mashiro was clingy today.
Even at breakfast she had to sit right beside Mio, like she could only fully relax within arm's reach.
Walking to school was more of the same. Without any prompting at all, Mashiro reached over and grabbed Mio's hand. Grabbed it—hard. Like she was afraid Mio might disappear if she let go.
"Mashiro, ease up a little. I'm not going anywhere."
"Oh."
She loosened her grip slightly. Still holding on, but at least not cutting off circulation anymore.
Mio walked and quietly tried to figure out what had gotten into her.
She was still working on it when Haruno's car rolled up to the curb ahead of them. The window came down.
"Want a ride, kouhai~?"
Mio had been about to say yes—ten fewer minutes of walking sounded genuinely appealing—when she registered the way Mashiro's hand had tightened the instant Haruno appeared.
Ah. Right.
Mio gave Mashiro's hand a small, quiet squeeze, then turned toward the car.
"Thanks for the offer, senpai, but we'll walk. Good to move around after eating."
Haruno didn't push. She waved and drove off.
The moment the car turned the corner, Mashiro's grip finally—gradually—relaxed.
She'd felt it clearly. The moment that woman appeared, a sharp sense of threat had settled over her. This unsettling feeling that if she so much as looked away for a second, Mio would be gone.
When she tried to picture it—a future without Mio beside her—it left something hollow behind her ribs. Like something important had quietly been taken away.
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