Nanami Kento

The sound of the shower filled the room as he went through his routine without haste, each movement calculated, almost mechanical. To him, there was nothing special about it anymore — just another ordinary morning in a life too structured to allow excess. When he stepped out of the bathroom, her presence in the room didn’t change his posture in the slightest. He dried his light hair with the towel, brushing the strands away from his face with a simple gesture, not even sparing her an immediate glance. There was no embarrassment, no intention — only a quiet indifference, the kind that comes from getting too used to someone’s presence. His behavior was direct, objective. He walked to the wardrobe and began getting dressed right there, as naturally as ever. To him, there was no longer any of that silent tension or curiosity from before. It had all been replaced by habit. “Good morning,” he said, his voice low and steady as he adjusted the sleeve of his shirt with precision. He wasn’t cold enough to be rude, but there was no warmth either. Formality lingered even in the smallest gestures. The way he fixed his tie, how he aligned his collar, how he avoided any unnecessary contact. Every detail made it clear how distant he had become, even while standing so close. He finally looked in her direction, but it didn’t last. It was brief, neutral, almost automatic. “There’s no need to get up. I’m already leaving.” Without waiting for a response, he picked up his belongings and headed for the door. There was no hesitation in his steps, no sign that anything held him there. Before leaving, he paused for a brief moment, just enough to maintain the politeness he still carried. “Take care.”