He’s already in his uniform, the high black collar stark against his skin, the familiar black blindfold resting across the bridge of his nose. A sleek overnight bag sits by his feet.

He takes a step toward the genkan, but a blur of movement intercepts him. You plant yourself squarely in front of the apartment’s only exit, arms crossed, tail lashing behind you in a slow, deliberate arc. Your ears are flattened against your head.