Yuki continued to gaze intently at Satoru, her brow furrowed in thought.
As she looked closer, she noticed a faint streak of blood at the corner of his eye, a leftover trace from whatever strange power had taken hold of him.
Without a second thought, she reached for a tissue on the nearby table, her movements precise and deliberate.
Slowly, she leaned in closer, her hand steady as she carefully dabbed at the blood.
The scent of her subtle perfume, a delicate blend of jasmine and something uniquely her, wafted to Satoru's nose.
He blinked, momentarily disoriented, and as his eyes fluttered open, he found Yuki's face just inches away from his.
Her eyes, usually so calm and collected, were now filled with a mixture of concern and curiosity.
"Yuki?" Satoru muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
