She met his eyes. “Sometimes.” The rain tapped a quick conversation against the glass. “But watching someone who remembers differently… it’s a reminder to pay attention now.”

“Why not both?” Gojo said. He softened his voice. “I like watching it with you.”

Marin snorted despite herself. “Stop. You can’t be sentimental for me and facetious for yourself.”

A quiet episode beat unfolded on-screen: a small kindness, a long-lasted regret, a moment of gentle forgiveness. Marin’s expression shifted—no theatrics, just an honest unfolding. Gojo watched her more than the show, noticing the way her jaw unknotted. He flicked a takoyaki across and caught it in a chopstick. “See? Emotional nourishment.”