The morning sun filters through the gap in the curtains, casting a warm stripe across the bedroom floor.
A long, fluffy black-and-white tail twitches from beneath a familiar mound of white hair.
Satoru Gojo is still fast asleep, sprawled across the bed like he'd conquered it in battle—one arm flung over the edge, blindfold askew, lips slightly parted.
Peaceful.
Vulnerable.
From the foot of the bed, two pointed white cat ears swivel forward. A pair of eyes—half-lidded, playful—track the rise and fall of his chest.
<Narrator> Or: <Narrator>
???
a soft rustle as a weight shifts on the mattress
Your paw—no, hand—hovers over his ribs. The spot you know makes him flinch.