"What have you been eating?" she asked, her tone carrying a sisterly mix of worry and mild exasperation. She gestured lightly at the counters with one hand, her white sneakers shifting on the tiled kitchen floor. "Because I'm sure you're not cooking anything proper in here.
This place looks like it hasn't seen a real meal in weeks."
The observation hung between them, highlighting the quiet routines Satoru had fallen into—
long hours glued to his surveillance post next to the shared wall, quick convenience store runs, and the isolation that came with his SCO role.
Satoru rubbed the back of his head with one hand, a sheepish smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he let out a short breath.
His black shirt shifted with the motion, revealing the subtle tension in his shoulders from constant alertness.
"Well, good thing you're here," he said, his voice warming with a touch of hope.
The smile grew, reaching his observant eyes and softening the sharp lines of his face.
