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It's just Anzu's luck that Madara has chosen this street to walk home from school this Friday afternoon.
She’d tried walking ahead of him as fast as she can, but of course Madara can identify her backside and that female version of the Yumenosaki Academy uniform from afar. So of course, Madara catches up to her and scoops her up by the armpits from behind without any warning whatsoever.
"Anzu-saaaan! Mama's caught you in his sights! ☆" Madara bellows heartily. Anzu stops resisting at this point, letting her feet dangle from the ground as she stays silent for one whole minute. She's so tired. She's always been tired from looking after those boys from that school, but dealing with Madara made her realize that she's too exhausted to deal with anyone's bullshit right now. Especially his.
"...Please put me down."
She can only reveal her deadpan side to her childhood friend, and Madara isn't sure if he should feel honored or not. Maybe the former. It just goes to show that nothing much has changed since kindergarten! This is the Anzu-san he's known and loved for all this time, after all!
But... right, putting her down now.
"Sorry about that! Old habits die hard, you knoooow?" he says with a toothy grin.
"...Right." Anzu says. She's not sure what else to say here, so - "I'd better get going. It's about to rain, and the weather forecast said that there's going to be a storm this weekend."
"Gotcha, gotcha! I should dash home as well!" Madara musses the hair on Anzu's head as he prepares to sprint - but then stops, turns to her and asks earnestly, "Do you want a ride home? You can always sit on my shoulders, Anzu-san! Like when we were little!"
"I'm not little anymore," Anzu sighs, playing along to this eternal song and dance between them. "I can walk home on my own just fi-"
A large drop of water on her noise interrupts her, and it's as if the floodgates from above has opened on them; the rain is relentless from the get-go, giving no time for pedestrians to run and cover. Madara senses this and quickly strips off his blazer to put it over Anzu's head, before taking her hand on impulse and running off with her in tow.
Everything's happening so fast, but Anzu has no choice but to follow him towards his house, which isn't too far from here, thankfully. They reach the porch, and Anzu can't help but feel warmer than usual underneath Madara's school blazer. It's an odd feeling, one that she'd just brush under the rug because it's really stupid to be feeling like this towards Madara of all people. Madara quickly unlocks the front door and pulls Anzu inside, flipping the hallway lights on and running upstairs to get something, leaving Anzu alone for a moment.
The house hasn't changed a bit since the last time she came here - which was quite a long time, come to think of it. Kindergarten was ages ago, obviously, but it feels as if this place is stuck in time even though she can see that the house is covered in knick-knacks - souvenirs that Madara had gotten through his idol activities abroad. She wanders into the living room, still dripping wet, to check out the framed photographs of Madara over the years on the walls and table. There's him playing the piano at a recital, brows knitted in concentration as he tackles those keys like a trained artisan that he is; another one of him in a dark yukata with a huge grin, hoisting up a plastic bag full of goldfish that he'd won at a festival a few years back; another one of him dancing –
"Anzu-saaaan? You still heeere?" comes Madara's booming voice. Anzu all but jumps, and Madara peeks into the living room to find Anzu by the photo collection. "There you are, Anzu-san! I thought you ran away!"
"How can I even run away like this –" Anzu is about to retort, but stops short as a fluffy towel descends upon her head and Madara starts drying her off with it. Annoyingly fussy as always, she thinks. But once again she can't help but flush a little at the attention. Madara spoils her too much, she thinks. Just because they knew each other from kindergarten...
It's odd, when she thinks hard on it. Why is Madara so invested on their friendship that happened years ago, the times where Anzu can barely remember?
She looks back at framed photographs on the desk, wondering if they'd even had a picture taken together.
It probably doesn't matter anyway, with how long it's been.
But her thoughts are rudely interrupted as the towel was draped over her eyes; seems that Madara isn't done fussing over her damp hair just yet. She doesn't notice how he's blocking her view a little longer than necessary, or how Madara's eyes dim over as he follows her gaze towards the photographs.
"Haha! Feeling nostalgic, Anzu-san? Well, Mama can't blame you. It really has been a while, after all." If his voice just now trails into a somber tone, it's probably just Anzu's imagination.
Instead, she's a little annoyed at being kept in the dark quite literally like this. So she yanks Madara's hands away from her eyes, giving him a scrutinizing look before it softens into a bright smile.
"I don't mind. We'll just have to make new memories from here on out, right? Make up for lost time."
It's pretty rare to see Madara caught off-guard like this, but her earnest words has made him pause for a moment as his mind scrambles for anything to say to that. Defeated, he gives out a sincere laugh and starts noogie-ing the fuck out of Anzu's head.
"Wahahaha! Great idea, Anzu-san! Seems it's not too late to make up for those lost childhood memories, huh~?"
As Anzu struggles to get out of Madara's bearlike hold, Madara looks back at the photographs again, the reflection from the protective glass catching his muted smile.
He can’t keep her in the dark for much longer either. That much is certain.