Seijirou stirred, a low groan escaping his throat as he blinked his eyes open. The faint scent of miso and grilled fish drifted through the air, teasing his half-awake senses.
His stomach growled in response, but the ache in his muscles quickly reminded him of yesterday's battle.
Every movement sent a dull sting through his arms and ribs, evidence of the brutal exchange against Ryuhei and that man, Haruto.
He leaned back against the headboard, exhaling slowly.
The room was filled with morning light filtering through the curtains, warm and calm, a sharp contrast to the chaos that had unfolded the day before.
From the kitchen, faint sounds of clinking dishes and the soft hum of Suzune's voice reached him.
She was cooking. Of course she was.
Always up early, always taking care of things quietly.
There was no rush to get up. Seijirou knew better than to interrupt her cooking.
