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The sun-baked earth crumbled easily under Haru’s paws as she delicately scraped away at it. She’d always loved the feel of the soil as it sifted through her fingers, flaked against the pad of her paws, tamped against pads of her feet as she ran barefoot across the gardens in her youth. More importantly, she could always rely on it to give her ground to stand on in more ways than one.
She’d told Akira she was going out to garden. Not a rare occurrence by any means; more often than not if someone sought her out, she’d be knee deep in weeds and flowers alike. It kept her tethered. It kept her together .
And yet here she is, on one of her rare days off, pointedly not doing that. It wasn’t a fib, not exactly; she was certainly in the garden. But it wasn’t the plants she was searching for. Nature and nurture: the line is nigh invisible. Haru decidedly isn’t in a nurturing mood today. If she were honest, she’d say that she wanted to be the nurtured .
The flowers towering over her and the grass tickling the underside of her belly are sure evidence of that.
With a little skip she traipses forward with a happy little wiggle. The winter months had been…difficult, to say the least. Her father’s passing, the company takeover… Clouds threaten to flit across the sunshine, and so Haru presses her paws even harder into the dirt. It’s her day. She’s not going to let the forever looming weariness dig its talons into her.
The sight of a pale, powder blue butterfly fluttering from flower to flower catches her attention, and just like that, the gloom dissipates for a later time. Curious, Haru crouches close to the ground and creeps closer to get a better look. She’s never seen one like this before; from afar, it was hard to make out any markings at all. Up close, though, the needle thin traceries of a darker blue creep their way, lacelike, around the borders of the wings, spiraling to the center. The center of the spiral, curiously, looks like an eye.
To her surprise, it flutters over to her and lands primly on her nose. Her eyes cross as she tries to look at it, but that just makes her head hurt, so she stops. Still, she stays still as possible; she doesn’t want to disturb her new friend!
“Haru!”
And just like that, the moment’s gone. The butterfly, startled, soars skyward once again, leaving Haru earthbound. A pang of loss hits her suddenly, deep and aching. When Akira appears around the corner of the house, Haru tucks her ears back and her tail between her legs. For a moment, she considers scurrying under a nearby bucket.
It’s not that she doesn’t want to see Akira; rather, it’s a sure sign that it’s time to go inside, and she doesn’t want to. Inside is noisy. Inside is too closed in. She has her pack, but her roots have yet to take hold.
She knows she’s hesitated too long when a shadow falls over her. “There you are.” Akira crouches down, balancing on the balls of his feet. He scritches her chin, but he frowns when he sees her ears. “What’s up, pup?”
The mind link is harder to maintain when they’re in different forms, and Haru doesn’t think she has the energy to shift back. The scratching had turned into a soft pet along her back, and it’s like words are being brushed away anyway. So she does the next best thing. She turns her head towards the door and gives a soft growl. Of course, it only comes out as more of a rumble, but as Akira follows her gaze, he grins faintly.
“Don’t want to go inside, baby?”
And just like that, the sun is shining again. Akira always knows what she means! Wagging her tail, she spins around in a circle before butting her head up into his palm. Chuckling, he rubs his thumb along her snout.
“Well, it’s lunchtime. Buuuut I think I have an idea.” He winks at her before pushing himself up with a grunt. “Sit tight, okay? I’ll be right back.”
Yipping her approval, she trots another circle for good measure before plopping down on the ground. Akira chuckles before disappearing back inside. The second the door shuts, though, Haru is up and romping around again. There’s just so much to do outside, after all.
She doesn’t have to wait long before the telltale creak of the back door alerts her to Akira’s impending return. What she didn’t expect were the smells that came with it, or the sound of a few more voices. Yet when Akira rounds the corner, he’s trailed by Ryuji and Ann. Haru leaps to her feet and races to meet them.
“Hey there, squirt.” Ryuji kneels down and holds out a closed fist. Haru places her paw on it before leaping up at him, scrabbling against his shirt until he tucks his hand under her belly and scoops her up. He gives her a sunshine smile when she licks his cheek.
“I see how it is,” Akira comments, but he’s smiling as he shifts his grip on the basket in one hand and blanket in the other. Haru goes still in Ryuji’s arms before breaking into a frantic wiggles. A picnic! Lunchtime and outside time! She can’t think of a better way to spend the afternoon.
Akira spreads the blanket in the shade, and starts unpacking the basket. While he does that, Ryuji puts Haru down and tosses himself onto the edge of the blanket. Ann, meanwhile, sprawls out in the grass.
“You’re going to get bitten by bugs,” Akira tells her.
“Those aren’t real.”
“What do you mean, bugs aren’t real?” Ryuji interjects. On cue, he and Ann fall into easy bickering.
Shaking his head, Akira returns to his task. Haru can’t help but nose her way closer. There are sandwiches, but she doesn’t think those are for her. Following the sandwiches are some tupperware of munchy snacks, a few thermoses, some sweets, and some of the special treats for puppies. The final thing removed from the basket is one of Haru’s bottles. She hadn’t thought she was quite that tiny, but it snags her attention much more than any of the other items. In fact, before she realizes it, she’s pawing at Akira’s leg and craning towards it, whines spilling from her throat. But she doesn’t feel the slightest bit embarrassed; it’s hard to, with the soft smile she’s receiving.
“C’mere, puppy.” He scoops her up and cradles her in his arms. She pushes her nose affectionately against his chest, but her eyes are trained on the bottle. Akira chuckles and guides the bottle to her mouth.
Haru goes on autopilot after that, drinking like she’d been in a desert with no oasis in sight. Warm. There’s no other way to describe how she’s feeling. The sun, Akira, her friends, the bottle, all scrape together her edges that had been threatening to crumble, packing them back into place. The ground beneath her won’t disappear just yet.
It doesn’t stop her from whining when Akira gently tugs the bottle free. He wiggles it in front of her. “It’s all gone, pup.” As apology, as appeasement, he digs one of the treats out of a dish and holds it out to her. She snaps it up without hesitation. The second and third treat meet the same fate. The fourth one, she turns her nose up at, because she has a different priority now. Call it instinct.
Haru yawns and crawls into Akira’s lap. Well, crawls is putting it nicely. It’s more like tumbling, her legs giving out beneath her, and she lets gravity do the rest. Her cheek falls to rest against his thigh, and she blinks sleepily. By the looks of it, Ryuji and Ann have the same idea she does; Ryuji’s tossed himself onto his back, arms folded under his head, and Ann’s using his stomach as a pillow. Her tail thumps lazily against Akira’s leg. When he gently runs his knuckles along her back, she lets out a pleased squeak.
“That’s my girl,” Akira murmurs, quiet enough that the others can’t hear. Or maybe they can. Wolf hearing and all. But Haru appreciates the effort nonetheless. As much as she loves her pack, there’s a special little bubble preserved for just her and Akira.
She kneads her paw against his calf, and, as always, safety washes over her. More ground beneath her. There’s no place she’d rather be.