The hotel room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the AC and the soft drip of condensation somewhere in the bathroom.
Brush D. Rush sat on the edge of the bed, still in nothing but his shorts, staring at the ceiling and trying to process how his life had turned into "woke up in a hotel mid-chaos" mode.
The bathroom door creaked open. Steam billowed out.
Hikaru stepped out, her hair damp and her armor partially set aside. Towels clutched modestly—but still, her presence filled the room with a quiet intensity. Even in this mundane moment, she radiated the legendary samurai aura.
Brush froze mid-breath, his cheeks heating. "Uh… morning…"
Hikaru tilted her head, one eyebrow slightly raised. "Morning," she said coolly, though a faint smirk tugged at her lips. "You really are… human in every way possible, even after everything we've been through."
Mia Rika—Daji—peeked from behind the curtain, tails twitching. "Sir… maybe… get dressed before we… continue the day?"
Brush scrambled, grabbing a random shirt off the floor. "Yes! Definitely getting dressed! Totally normal, nothing weird happening here!"
Hikaru simply walked past him, shrugging her wet hair behind her shoulders, and said lightly, "You know, I've seen you fight universes… but somehow, this is the hardest battle for you."
Brush muttered under his breath, "It's the only battle I'm losing…"
Crunchyroller hovered above, floating lazily with a smirk. "Ah, domestic tension. Even the Chosen One isn't safe."
Brush groaned. "I swear… every day in this hotel is a meme…"
And somewhere in the quiet room, the absurdity of their lives hit him like a probability explosion.