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... y cooked food, and sighed softly as she approached the familiar narrow street leading to Seijirou’s home.
She knew that guy too well. He probably hadn’t even left his bed yet, maybe still buried under his blanket with that same uninterested look on his face, completely ignoring the fact that it was already past nine in the morning.
If she didn’t bring food, he’d probably just skip breakfast again or survive on instant noodles, something he called a "meal."
Typical Seijiro ...
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