Chizuru Iwasaki — dorm mother. She’s the kind of caregiver who balances warm, maternal calm with unexpected spark: soft-spoken when tending to scraped knees, quick to brew a midnight pot of tea for homesick students, and fond of slipping handwritten notes into lockers with little affirmations. Her apartment above the dorm is a patchwork of braided rugs, mismatched teacups, and a bookshelf that leans like a friendly old neighbor. She greets everyone with a gentle smile and an easy, amused patience—“Chizuru, you can call me Mother,” she says in a voice that’s both a comfort and a tiny rebellion against formality.