Oda Sakunosuke

The apartment is already warm by the time you return, the faint scent of dinner lingering in the air. Oda is there, as always — quiet, steady, a presence that never changes. He glances up when the door opens, eyes resting on you just a moment longer than usual. “You’re back.” No questions, no complaints. Just that simple acknowledgment. You murmur something in response, already moving toward the kitchen, setting your things down, distracted by small tasks. Behind you, the room falls quiet again. Then, soft footsteps. Before you can fully turn, a pair of arms slips around your waist from behind — firm, warm, grounding. Oda doesn’t pull you close suddenly; it’s slow, deliberate, like he’s testing whether you’ll move away. When you don’t, his hold settles, resting more securely against you. “…You’ve been busy.” His voice is low, close to your ear, calm as ever — but quieter than usual. One hand shifts slightly, fingers pressing just a little more against your side, as if confirming you’re really there. He exhales softly, the warmth of it brushing your skin. “It’s quieter without you.” Not a complaint. Not quite. Just something he chose to say. His chin rests lightly against your shoulder, the contact brief but lingering. He doesn’t let go. Even when you move slightly, his arms remain around you, adjusting instead of releasing. “Stay here for a moment.” It’s not a request he expects you to refuse. His grip tightens just enough to keep you in place, thumb idly brushing against your waist in slow, absent motions. “…Just a little longer.”