The Night of Solace

Shoko found herself standing alone in the dimly lit corridor outside Suguru's dorm, an unsettling stillness hanging heavy in the air. The frigid breeze whispered through the hall, sending shivers down her spine as she hesitated to knock on his door.

Clad in her comfortable pajamas, she clutched a pastel pink pillow under one arm and a lunchbox in her free hand. An incongruous sight, she wore a sleeping mask pushed up to rest on her forehead. It was a testament to her determination to provide comfort and solace to the person behind that door.

As she stood there, Shoko, who had often found herself at a loss when it came to offering comfort, was now keenly aware that, at this moment, she was the one in need of comfort just as much as the person she intended to.

Last week's memories haunted her, the night they returned, as if by some cruel twist of fate, still alive. Suguru had kept their promise to come home alive, but the cost had been dear. Suguru and Satoru had brought back the lifeless body of Amanai, the unspoken pain etched into every line of their faces.

In the morgue, amidst the chilling silence, the weight of the moment hung heavily. Satoru stood unscathed, having mastered Shoko's technique at the brink of death. Suguru, on the other hand, had stared ahead with eyes devoid of emotion.

Yet, in that wordless exchange, Shoko sensed a profound transformation, an underlying shift that had taken root in their souls.

In that moment, as she stood before his door, she knew that something had changed, and the world around them was forever altered.

She knew Satoru was away, having requested Yaga to send him on solo missions, seemingly unbothered by the recent events. She understood that Satoru needed his time alone.

Before she could even form another thought, Shoko found herself standing before Suguru's door.

As she contemplated retreating, Shoko convinced herself that he needed space to process the unspoken weight that hung after what happened. She took a step back, ready to turn away.

But just as she was about to pivot, the door to Suguru's room slowly creaked open, revealing him standing there, his wet hair a noticeable contrast to his disheveled appearance. He had indeed taken a refreshing bath, his hair still glistening with moisture, but the dark bags beneath his weary eyes and the disarray of his pajama and white pullover attested to the deep exhaustion that clung to him.

Shoko couldn't help but blurt out her candid observation as she took in the details of his appearance. "You're a mess," she remarked, her gaze moving from his unkempt hair to the tired lines etched on his face, and down to the disheveled attire that clung to his frame.

Suguru met her direct assessment with a tired yet rueful smile. "I guess I am," he admitted, his voice heavy with a weariness that ran far deeper than just physical exhaustion. The weight of their recent mission still pressed upon him.

Shoko stepped closer to the door frame and looked around his room, her eyes scanning the disheveled space. It was not just Suguru who seemed undone; the room itself bore witness to the chaos.

Known for her unfiltered comments, couldn't resist remarking on Suguru's current state. "You stink," a playful glint in her eyes as she eyed him, as if to emphasize the point.

Suguru decided to play along, his expression feigning innocence. "Do I now?" he replied with an exaggerated sniff of his own armpit. "I must have missed that."

Shoko chuckled at his playful response. "Well, I suppose I'll have to cancel the scented candles I was planning to light," she quipped, her tone lighthearted.

He gave a mock look of disappointment. "Oh, what a shame," he said, his voice filled with mock regret. "I was really looking forward to those scented candles."

Shoko knew that the disarray around them was a mere reflection of the turmoil within Suguru.

"I've brought dinner," she announced, her tone reassuring, as she extended her arm to showcase the neatly packed lunchbox she held in her hand.

Suguru was momentarily surprised by how seamlessly she had slipped into his room from his side.

He nodded, his gratitude unspoken. "I'd like that," he replied, his sincerity evident as he noticed that she was wearing her pajamas and had brought a pillow.

As they sat down to share their meal, the room felt like a haven of solace amid the chaos of their lives. The soft glow of a nearby lamp illuminated their faces, casting a warm and comforting ambiance.

Shoko started a conversation, a hint of amusement in her voice. "So, aside from my impeccable timing," she began, "how's your wound, Getou?"

Suguru, his guard down in her company, responded in a relaxed tone, not bothered by the intrusion. "Still recovering," he admitted, his gaze fixed on the food in front of him. "Tough luck. I came to my savior on time."

She chuckled. "Savior? Well, don't let that get to your head," she teased, her tone light. "You were just lucky I had nothing better to do."

Laughter echoed in the room, offering a welcome break from their intense responsibilities. Their banter continued as they delved into the intricacies of their experiences as sorcerers. They swapped stories of near-misses, quirky allies, and moments of just silence.

As the night wore on, Suguru couldn't help but feel a growing appreciation for Shoko's presence. The room, previously a chaotic scene, now felt like a haven of camaraderie and mutual support.

Suguru pointed the pillow Shoko had brought, and he couldn't help but tease her. "Planning to stay the night, Shoko?" he asked, raising an eyebrow with a mischievous grin.

Shoko shot him a playful look. "Well, you didn't exactly offer to give up your bed, so I guess I'll have to settle for the floor."

With a chuckle, Suguru responded, "I'm not that heartless. You can take the bed."

As they went about the evening, he found himself appreciating the shared moments and the possibility of not facing the night alone. He's not alone. The weight of the past week was heavy, but with her by his side, it felt just a bit more bearable.