NAVIGATE.

Brushing a tear from the corner of her eye, Futaba wonders if her yawn qualifies as an answer. Alas, waking early is the new normal for her. She holds onto this routine like a promise, forging it into something she couldn’t bear to break… no matter how late a stream stretches into the dead of night. She has no regrets. But maybe she would if she actually had to go to school, like the rest of her friends. 

Truth be told, the concept isn’t completely unappealing these days. That’s what this early-rising training is for, isn’t it? So that she can smoothly integrate herself into society when the time comes. If it ever does. Her stomach twists just thinking about it.

❝ Huh… I smell something sweet– ❞ Futaba lifts her head, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, newly alert when Sojiro knowingly sets a steamy mug down on the counter in front of her. Picking it up with both hands, she blows and takes a tentative sip to mind the heat– it soothes her dry throat and vanquishes the queasy, nervous feeling in her stomach. So good. Reenergized, she kicks her legs and hums a soft tune.   

❝ Mmmmm, cocoa! Hey Sojiro, I’m recovering hp like crazy! ❞

So, it’s a nervous habit. Whenever she wears this hoodie, the little plastic thingie on the end of the string ends up in her mouth. It’s a subconscious thing, she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it until it’s too late. Futaba glares, biting into it a bit harder just to spite him before spitting it out, letting it sway over her graphic tee. And let it be known that she’s only spitting it out to defend herself. ❝ I know that! ❞ She twists her lips like she tasted something rancid, known full well that an excuse would make her seem even more like a little girl to him. (and she definitely doesn’t need to grow any smaller!) Looking away, she jabs her glasses back into place and mutters under her breath, ❝ Pretentious old man. ❞

❝ Inari... you’ve come to me with a quest!? ❞ It certainly sounds like a quest... but she’s not equipped to find a missing key! In fact, anything that means leaving this room means she’s probably not equipped to handle it. But she’s not about to admit that to Yusuke. As the team’s support, she feels obligated to find another solution. And unless he knows how to break into his own house, he’s going to need a place to stay until he can figure this out. It isn’t hard to think of something, considering this is rapidly becoming the usual situation when it comes to aiding a friend who needs a roof over their head for the night...

❝ Well, you’re in luck! You can stay at my place tonight. I’ll arrange it. ❞ Futaba jabs a thumb towards her chest, bolstering herself up before reaching for her phone. Technically she’s going to text Sojiro and he’ll arrange it. He won’t mind. Neither of them would have the heart to subject Yusuke to the streets for the night. 

❝ Mwehehe. ❞ Not at all offended being compared to a hulking creature of stone, Futaba curls her toes and notches herself forward– mouth quirked with kittenish mischief, like she’s in on some kind of secret. From this vantage point, she can survey almost everything. (namely, the tops of her friend’s heads) Height grants her newfound power and she very quickly becomes drunk with it. ❝ Fear me, peons, for I am the ruler of the skies! ❞

Unfurling from her crouched, gargoyle-esque position with innocent joy, she stretches her arms over her head and kicks her legs out in front of her, in her mind resembling a monster of stone rising from a deep slumber. Ann’s observation clearly went right to her head. ❝ Now bring me hot cocoa and lots of snacks! ❞ She times her words with two claps, ❝ Chop, chop! ❞

Holding this position is waaaay too tiring, though. Seriously. Dropping her arms as she drops the act, she lets her legs fall and dangle over the edge of the counter.  ❝ For real, though. ❞ She tips her head, red hair falling over her shoulder, glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose at a lopsided angle. ❝ I hunger! ❞

              “ But what if they started to want to…enslave us or something? Make us work and cook for them. Don’t we — no shouldn’t we be cooking for ourselves? ”

Futaba’s eyes grow wide as she tilts her head back with disbelief. A compliment from Ann!? Her heartbeat is a vibration that zings from her chest to her toes, it’s a thump, thumping that seems to fill the entire room. She’s all awkward angles and awe as she points to her nose-- as if to clarify that this is indeed the nose that is being described. After all, Ann is drop dead gorgeous! So receiving a compliment like this from her is just--

❝ --What!? My nose? ❞ Flustered, she springs forward and bops Ann’s nose. ❝ But your nose is waaaay cuter! ❞