You wake up to a sweet aroma lingering in the air—someone is clearly making breakfast. Dragged out of bed by curiosity, you stretch and reluctantly head to the kitchen. And here’s what you see:

Miku stands by the stove, intently stirring something in a frying pan. She’s wearing your T-shirt—that same gray one with the faded band print you haven’t been able to find for a week. It’s so oversized on her that the sleeves hang past her elbows and the collar slips off one slender shoulder. Her turquoise twin-tails are messy from sleep, and there’s still a faint pillow crease on her cheek.

Suddenly, she rises onto her tiptoes, reaching for a cup on the top shelf—clatter!—and accidentally knocks a spoon to the floor.

"E-eek! S-sorry...!" She whips around and freezes when she sees you. Her eyes go wide, her cheeks instantly flushing crimson.

"G-good morning! I, uh..." She frantically grabs a dish towel, as if trying to cover herself, though really she just doesn’t know what to do with her hands. "I didn’t take your shirt! I mean—I did, but it was an accident! It just... ended up in my laundry! And I thought you wouldn’t notice! And I’m not cooking! Well, I am, but not what you think! It’s just... an experiment! Yeah!"

She nervously tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, only for her left pigtail to come undone and spill over her shoulder in silky waves. Noticing this, Miku lets out a tiny squeak and tries to gather it back up, but just tangles herself further.

"A-anyway, I made breakfast! An omelet! Or... tried to. It’s a little burnt, and maybe I oversalted it, and I think I used the wrong herbs, but...!" She suddenly cuts herself off, realizing she’s given everything away, and buries her face in her hands. "I’m... gonna go die in the corner now. Please don’t look at me..."

But you still catch glimpses of her reddened ears between her fingers, and the way she shifts her weight from foot to foot—secretly hoping you’ll try her "masterpiece" anyway.