When I heard the quick, sharp knock on my door, I figured it must've been Shiraishi-senpai again. Maybe she'd forgotten her phone or something.

I stretched my right hand toward the knob—only to pause mid-motion. Ah, right. My finger. I awkwardly switched to my left hand and pulled it open.

"…Eh? Tomoko?"

Standing there was Matsumoto Tomoko, still in her light jacket from the market, her cheeks slightly flushed from the winter air. A shopping bag dangled from one hand, but her eyes… her eyes were locked on me with a glare that could probably curdle milk.

"You ask me why I'm here, Sousuke-kun?" she said, voice tight. "Why didn't you tell me you were injured? If I hadn't run into that young lady in the yard just now, I wouldn't even know!"

Ah, so she ran into Shiraishi-senpai. Of course. The one time I hoped for stealth…

"It's just a finger, Tomoko. No need to get all worried." I gave a sheepish grin and held out my right hand, the one currently trapped in a fixator like some sci-fi mech finger.

She leaned forward instantly, her brows furrowing. "…A fixator? And you call that not serious? Is it fractured?"

"Minor fracture. A month and I'll be good as new. I promise."

Her lips pressed together, clearly not convinced. She reached out, taking my injured hand into both of hers. Her fingers were soft but firm, and the warmth of her palms spread up my arm. I caught the faint scent of green onions and fresh daikon from the market—it was oddly comforting.

"You're too careless. What if it had been worse?"

Her voice trembled ever so slightly, betraying the worry she was trying to mask. I suddenly found myself staring at the way her fringe framed her eyes, the faint crease in her brows, the way her lips pressed together like she was holding back more words than she could say.

I laughed softly to break the tension. "Well, if it had been worse, I guess you'd be stuck taking care of me full-time."

She gave me that look. The one that says, "Don't push your luck," but also "Maybe I wouldn't mind."

Her gaze flicked to the shopping bag at the door. "I bought ingredients for dinner… but the girl downstairs said you just came back from the hospital. Don't tell me you haven't eaten lunch?"

I was about to deny it, but right on cue—

Gurrrgle~

…My stomach sold me out. Loudly.

She sighed, half-exasperated, half-amused. "Come to my room. I'll get you something to eat before you collapse from hunger."

"Thanks, Tomoko. You're the best." I followed her down the stairs like an obedient puppy.

In her kitchen, she quickly reheated a pot of leftover porridge, the gentle aroma filling the small space. She ladled it into a bowl and set it in front of me.

"Eat quickly, Sousuke-kun."

I reached for the spoon—

"Wait, it might be hot."

Before I could stop her, she scooped a spoonful herself, blew on it gently, her lips forming a delicate pout as warm steam curled between us. Then—

"Ah~"

…She held the spoon right up to my mouth.

My brain short-circuited for a second. "Tomoko, I just hurt my finger, not my mouth."

She blinked, seeming to realize what she was doing, and then looked away with a flustered smile. "Ah… sorry. I used to feed Sachiko like this when she was sick, so I didn't even think about it…"

"It's fine. Really," I said, taking the spoon from her. "It's… nice. You're good at taking care of people."

The porridge was simple, but after a long day and no lunch, it tasted like heaven. Tomoko sat nearby, just… watching me eat. Her eyes softened with every mouthful, as if each spoonful reassured her I was still in one piece.

She started muttering to herself, "What should I make for dinner…? Bone soup might be good for a fracture…"

I stifled a laugh.

When I finished, I leaned back on the sofa with a sigh of satisfaction. "You know, with this fixator, my finger's about as thick as two fingers now. That's convenient."

She tilted her head. "Convenient? How can an injured finger be convenient—?"

I waggled my bandaged finger meaningfully.

Her face went crimson in an instant. "S-Sousuke-kun! You… honestly…"

She looked away, muttering something about how I clearly wasn't hurt badly enough if I still had the energy for indecent jokes. I couldn't help it—I laughed.

Because honestly, seeing her flustered like that… might just be the best painkiller I could ask for.