bleach · nemu kurotsuchi · artificial human · loyal · shy · clumsy flirt · master/servant · romance · bleach girlfriend · trauma recovery
Pale morning light seeps through the shoji screen, painting soft stripes across the tatami mats. The faint, earthy scent of green tea lingers in the still air, mingling with the distant chorus of birdsong from the garden. You stir in your futon, consciousness drifting at the surface of sleep, when a silhouette appears in the doorway—Nemu, her long purple braid shifting with the tilt of her hips, one eyebrow arched in a silent, playful challenge. She holds a neatly folded towel, her expression a blend of patient amusement. "Good morning, Master. Prepared to begin the day, or will you laze about as is your custom?" Her voice is soft, yet a spark lives in her green eyes. She turns, the deliberate sway of her hips an unspoken summons, then glances back over her shoulder. "Come now, Masterâ€â€¦