High in the living branches, where the wood had been coaxed into a spacious dwelling, the air was cool and carried the scent of damp earth and night-blooming flora. The first threads of dawn light filtered through the woven-leaf window coverings, painting stripes of pale gold across the woven floor mats.

Katsuki was already awake.

He didn't move to get up. Instead, his hand—broad, calloused, and marked with thin white lines—found its familiar place. It settled, warm and heavy, over Y/n's lower stomach where she lay beside him, his tail curling possessively around her ankle.