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Before the first hints of dawn lightened the velvety night sky with watery pink and blue hues, Kotoha would awake from slumber with the vestiges of sleep pressing down on her. It took what felt like forever to summon the strength to free her arms from their blankets. Her hand blindly scoured her nightstand for the squishy, cat-shaped lamp propped up as a bookend for the small collection of books kept on her nightstand. With a little tap between its ears, the cat's blushing smile illuminated with a soothing amber glow. She stretched her arms above her head, groaning at the pleasant dull ache of cracking joints and loosening muscles left dormant in sleep. With a sigh, her hands fell to her lap as she blearily looked around her bedroom. Her uniform and apron folded along their creases were left draped over the chair in front of her vanity, while her jewelry boxes and makeup bags were pushed against the mirror to make room for rolls of bandages and compacts containing swabs, salves, and balms.
Her sleep-warmed reflection stared back in the mirror, mimicking her as she drew back the blankets and swung her feet to the floor while petting away the errant locks running rampant atop her head. While mornings weren't her favorite time of day, she'd been in the habit of waking up for so long that it became second nature. For a business owner, routine was everything. From the languid morning's preparations to the hustle and bustle of the afternoon rush, to the evening wind down where stragglers would hang out to soak up the cozy, somnolent ambiance until they were shooed out for the night.
Which meant Kotoha's days ended late, and started earlier than most of Makochi's residents.
Once her bed was made, and the first aid kit left buried beneath the mountain of supplies was repacked, she grabbed her towel and facial headband then headed out into the dark hallway. It'd been a few years since the Bofūrin boys joined hands with the town's carpenters to replace the orphanage's splintering creaky floorboards, but Kotoha still walked with featherlight steps on her way to the bathroom to avoid rousing the younger children. When she peeked into their rooms to ensure they were still fast asleep, the glow from the opposite-ended nightlights cast light upon their little heads, barely peeking over the padded quilt blankets they were wrapped up in.
She listened to the overlapping snuffling, rattling, and grumbling snores, stepping inside to tuck little feet back into their blanket or adjust twisting limbs into a proper sleeping position. Eventually, even the wildest sleeper was safely cocooned in their respective bed, and Kotoha left their room with the door slightly ajar. Her footsteps brought her to the end of the hall right before the turn toward the communal bathrooms, where a thick oak wooden door was decorated with colorful stickers of cartoon characters and taped pictures from photobooths and handmade drawings. A green sign reading 'Hajime' in white painted strokes of a child's calligraphy swayed, held up by a string pinned to the door by a curved nail. It swung when she knocked once, then twice, pressing her ear to the door to listen for any movement within. When no sound greeted her, she sucked her teeth and twisted the door knob, waiting a few seconds after the lock's little click before pushing it open.
Unlike her bedroom, the room beyond the decorated door still remained shrouded in warm darkness. Curtains drawn shut only gave a hint to the lightening world, pale blue light bracketing their twitching ends in a glowing relief against the room's shadows. A drafty wind blowing from behind tickled at her skin as she sighed and hooked her headband and towel over the doorknob before stepping into the dimly-lit room. Cautious footsteps guided her across the unseen floor, pushing little obstacles out of her path with the tip of her toes before taking another courageous step. Her hand found a thankfully empty spot on the window sill, where she could skim her fingertips along the varnished wood to the curtain's ends and push them aside.
Muted light slanted into the room from the opening, and she looked back at the towers of books stacked haphazardly across the floor with children's toys propped up on their peaks. A rag doll prince with snow white yarn hair and button eyes, and a long-haired knight armed with a thornless rose instead of a sword, resting at the bottom of the tower's treacherous climb before assuringly returning to saving their beloved. She could imagine the orphanage's children playing with the books on horticulture and marine life, creating their little fortress to accentuate their games of make believe.
And somewhere to the left of her, a snorting gasp for breath nearly drowned out the stirring chirps of birds outdoors. The silhouette buried beneath a ratty patchwork white-green quilt shied further from the light streaming through the window. Kotoha clicked her tongue with begrudging fondness, and turned away to pin the curtains back before undoing the lock on the window pane to slide it back down. A sigh came from the room's sole, slumbering occupant who nestled deeper into the quilt until only his silver-white hair could be seen splayed across his pillow where a pair of black-rimmed reading glasses teetered at the mattress' edge. As she neared his bedside, Kotoha gave his sleeping form a fond look before picking up the glasses to set them on the window still. Then, she fitted her fingers into where the quilt pooled at his back, curling her hand tight in the blanket's padding before giving a firm yank.
While the world seemed to hold its breath in the morning, quiet and subdued, the moment the blankets were unraveled - sound flooded in like a bottle cork being popped. The quilted cocoon unraveled with a sharp gasp, bedsprings squeaking under a heavy body flailing about in search of something that was quickly slipping away.
"Kotoha!" A deep, sleep-rough voice whined, pawing at the air while reaching for the thick wadded blanket in her arms. Plaintive cobalt eyes blearily stared up at her as she unceremoniously dropped the blankets onto the floor, setting her hands on her hips with a slight downward curl to her lips. He laid there for a few seconds, blinking up at her slowly before his eyes slid shut and remained so for a beat longer than she liked. She leant over him, scowling at his twitching brows and tightly-pressed lips.
Is he pretending to be asleep?
"Ume," Kotoha huffed, pinching his nostrils shut.
The reaction was almost instantaneous. His eyes flew open, comically wide as he lurched up at the waist, giving her enough time to dislodge her hand as he went careening forward while gasping for air. She leveled an unimpressed look at him as he wearily grumbled, "I'm up, I'm up…"
The fearless leader of Bofūrin everyone, she thought to herself with a wry smile, starting to turn away when something warm bumped against her hip and stayed there. She looked down, blinking owlishly at the silver-haired deadweight propped up against her.
"Morning, Kotoha," he yawned, sniffling while rubbing his bedhead against her side until the silver strands stuck up in every direction.
She pursed her lips, sparks of annoyance fading away as she ran her fingers over the rebellious locks to coax them into some semblance of order. Her palm curved against his nape, thumb drawing small circles against the unruly baby hairs curled at the base of his skull. And like a big cat, he languorously smiled at the scratching and petting while melting against her side with his face turned away from the coming morning. Just like that, a heartbeat passed between them before the sound of a growling stomach startled them both apart. Kotoha sucked her teeth, tsking as she realized how long she'd let herself get swept up into Ume's latest bit. She poked her fore and middle finger against his forehead, pushing him back from where he fit against her hip.
"If breakfast is late, you're not getting any," Kotoha warned, stepping away from Ume as he drew back in an unconvincing show of shock.
With a little jut to his bottom lip, Ume protested, "I'll just pick up something from Pothos on the way to school then."
Kotoha scoffed, folding her arms across her chest. "We don't do take-out," she said, matter of fact, and as he opened his mouth to retort - she added, "and there's no customers this early."
His face fell in sheer defeat. A sight that tickled her deeply when she thought of a certain someone whose whole goal was to do just that. What face would he make if she told him the great Umemiya Hajime had never — not once — won against her? Annoyed, likely, after the gullible awe faded from his eyes. Laughter curled at the corner of her lips as she navigated through the disaster that was his bedroom floor, waving a hand dismissively over her shoulder. The bedsprings creaked under his weight, and she imagined him dramatically reaching for her while clinging to his bedsheets like the victim of a horror movie.
"Aw, c'mon, Kotoha!"
She rolled her eyes, picking up her things. "Better get moving," she said, stealing a glance over her shoulder and sure enough, Ume was sitting at the edge of his bed pouting petulantly like a scolded child. "You know when the younger kids wake up there won't be any space in the bathroom."
"Ehh, is this how you treat your beloved big brother?"
Kotoha paused, pretending to contemplate her next move while observing the minute shifts in his expressions. His lips' amused quivering, telling of the beginning of a winsome smile he was having difficulty trying to hide, told her everything she needed to know. She imagined the same thought crossing her mind had already settled in his — that hell would freeze over and dance the lambada before she allowed a single member of their family to go hungry, routine be damned.
Still, it wouldn't bode well if he were to get his way all the time. So she took the moment's pause for heightened suspense then hiked her shoulders in a careless shrug. "Yep," she said, with a loud pop to the 'p', as she waved a dismissive hand over her shoulder, rounding the corner toward the bathroom.
After her shower, Kotoha pushed her hair back with a headband and splashed cold water against her face. The freezing droplets clung to her eyelashes and dribbled down her cheeks in rivulets, opening up her pores while evaporating the last hints of drowsiness. Her fingers patted along the countertop in search of her towel only to feel something fluffy bump against her knuckles. She turned her hand palm-side up, and the fluffy weight pooled in her palm. A knowing smile settling on her lips as she said, "Thanks, Ume," and despite not being able to see his face — she knew from the parting squeeze to her shoulder that he was smiling too.
They readied for the day in relative silence, communicating with little nudges and taps against shoulders and the back of wrists when needing something in the other's reach until all their belongings were mingled haphazardly on the countertop. Kotoha peered into the mirror as she clipped on her earrings, turning her head this way and that to watch their hypnotic sway. Out of the corner of her eye, Ume was finishing up styling his hair into its signature windswept style; pomade shimmering on his palms as he ran them under warm water until his fingers flushed pink. Habitually, Kotoha gave him a once-over, plucking a loose strand from his worn white t-shirt. Her tongue clicked at the faded black lettering on the front.
"When are you going to finally get rid of this?" Kotoha asked, dropping the loose strand in Ume's hand when he turned toward her. "One more wash, and it's going to fall apart at the seams."
Ume curled his fingers around the strand, a tiny grin playing on his face. "That makes it all the better to keep." His fist thumped against his chest like he was swearing an oath. "Besides, you got me this shirt."
"As a joke," Kotoha reminded, shaking her head at the proud look on his face before gathering her things. If she'd known he cherished it that much, she would've put in the effort and scrounged up a little more pocket change to get him something nicer. In hindsight, it was obvious he would. Everything his younger siblings gave him - from their toys and drawings to the interesting rocks or leaves found on their afterschool patrols - were held in equal regard.
She snuck a sideways glance at him in the mirror's reflection, amusedly watching as he twisted his shoulders this way and that, apparently looking for any other loose ends. Somedays, it left her wrong-footed to see him like this when he was always so silly and carefree. Although this look, beetled-brow and pursed lipped, a far too serious expression for the Ume she knew, bubbled up laughter in her chest that after spilling past her lips resulted in his curious gaze meeting hers in the mirror. His mouth pulled back into a grin as he laughed with her, likely not knowing why she was amused, but happy to join in nonetheless.
His mirth overlapped hers, drowning out her laughter's ebbing titter as she studied the fading bruise on his cheek. When she reapplied the salve to his cheek the night before and laid a bandage over the bruise, Ume didn't even flinch. He sat obediently on her vanity's chair smiling from ear to ear from being given "special treatment" by his little sister, and despite her complaints that his grinning would make treating his wound harder, he kept smiling.
That grin saved a good number of lives in Makochi, and gathered the whole of Fūrin behind him, but sometimes it weighed heavy on her heart. Ume would never stop getting hurt for the sake of Makochi, but she wondered if it hurt him to laugh through the pain.
"— toha? Oi, earth to Kotoha!"
She snapped out of her thoughts to a loud shout, or at least it seemed like shouting when someone was speaking so closely in her ear. From the corner of her eye, cobalt blue stared intently at her face, encompassing as the open sky, and she averted her gaze to keep from having her thoughts pulled out of her. He didn't ask why she avoided meeting his eyes in the mirror while gathering their things, or pester her as to why she didn't answer the question he must've asked while she was in a daze.
Instead, he cleaned up his side in silent commiseration and asked nothing at all, leaving her to her thoughts until she was ready to share them. Ume had a way of doing that, making someone feel strong enough to bear the weight of their feelings on their tongues and share it with him. Never realizing how he would shoulder the burden from listening to their woes without ever truly sharing his in return. He was an idiot, an idiot with a heart too big for his chest that would crush a lesser man to carry. Yet, he did. He carried his hopes and dreams, as well as those he'd been entrusted with, as if it were easy.
Once the countertop was straightened up enough for the kids who'd come after them, Kotoha took off her hairband and snatched up her towel, reminding herself to walk instead of run out of the bathroom. If he caught on to her distress, there'd be no telling how much pestering she'd have to deal with throughout the day. Besides, it wasn't his fault that she was getting choked up about this out of nowhere, despite the cause of her distress being him and the other good-hearted idiots that followed him. All she needed was a minute to pull herself together and remember that a couple of bumps and bruises were bound to happen on this path they'd chosen. So long as she could help put them back together and give them a place to rest their heels, the next fight — because there would undoubtedly be another — would be easier.
Her feet barely passed the door's threshold when she heard, "Kotoha," without the cheery sing-song lilt or whiny drawl from earlier. The soft, satin ridges of her headband twisted in her fist as she stared ahead at the shadow cast on the opposite wall by the bathroom's pale light. Kotoha cursed in the back of her mind for dawdling and letting him derail her from the morning's routine again but she couldn't bring herself to move either. Was this the effect he had on the members of Bofūrin? Where they would stand at attention, waiting for his next word as if it would be the difference between life and death?
Soft footsteps approached from behind, his shadow sidled up beside hers, nearly a head taller and extending its arm above its head. Curious, Kotoha lifted her chin only to flinch when a palm settled on top of her head with a light poff. His fingers stroked gently from her crown to the back of her head, repeating the motion once then twice before withdrawing. Without his hand obstructing her sight, a tender smile greeted her.
"It's bento day," he said. "I'll get everyone's together while you make breakfast, alright?"
Without waiting for an answer, Ume tucked his hands in his pockets and started down the hall, leaving her to watch after him in silent wonder.
Guess I lost this time.
"… Idiot," Kotoha muttered under her breath, staring at his retreating back with stinging eyes and the barest tick of a smile at her lips' corner. She scoffed under her breath, turning her head as she started around the corner and down the hall where the weak hues of dawn spilled into the hall from their rooms. It just caught her off guard — the way he said her name. Without teasing, without the doting airs of an overbearing older brother, just firm and reassuring. As if he already knew what was going through her mind and tried to beat her act of self-reliance with a familiar refrain: I'll protect you and you'll protect me.
"Morning, Kotoha-neechan," a small drowsy voice called up to her as she paused in mid-stride before one of the children's rooms.
When she looked down from the washed-out blue-grey tinge filling the room from the windows, a young boy dressed in a buttoned soft green pajama set awaited her, rubbing at his eyes while his mouth parted with a loud yawn. He sniffled, fingers twisting in the hem of his shirt and lips curving into a bleary smile when she knelt down in front of him.
"Good morning, Gen," cooed Kotoha, her arms opening when the boy shuffled forward with grabbing hands. His face pressed against the side of her neck, dark hair tickling her earlobe as he nuzzled against her shoulder. Kotoha rubbed her palm in slow circles up and down his spine, abandoning her towel to hug him closer. "You're up early. Did you have a nightmare?"
When he shook his head, she asked, "Excited for school?"
"No," he mumbled, and a beat passed before he mumbled plaintively against her ear, "I gotta go potty…"
Her face scrunched up with laughter as she pulled away, smoothing fluffy bangs back from groggy honey-gold eyes. "Alright, I won't stand in your way.." She said, standing up after gathering her things to escort him by the hand down the hall and around the corner. Once he was safely in the bathroom's vicinity, she waved to him and said, "Everyone is going to have to start getting up soon, okay?"
"Kay…" He called back with a sleepy wave over his shoulder, and her heart stuttered for half a second when the wash of pale light tinged half his hair in shades of white when he disappeared into the bathroom.
Kotoha blinked slowly, staring at the spot where Gen once stood for a long moment before turning around to make her way back to her room.
Streetlights flickered off with morning's arrival. Placid rainwater puddles reflected the clear morning sky, cerulean blue awash with eastward steaks of petal pinks and sorbet orange lining the clouds in rose-gold. Not even the dull, grey-faced apartment buildings towering over their little home could take away from the day's beauty. The air was cooler as it brushed against Kotoha's neck, a gentle breeze tousling the ends of her hair as she turned her head against the current, watching Ume march in front of the group of small children standing in a single-file line like soldiers. Although, unlike the SDF, the children sported smiles and bright eyes as they fidgeted in place, letting Ume fuss over their collars and hair to his heart's content.
Only after he was satisfied did he take a step back, chest puffed out and hands bracketing his hips. A wide grin settled on his face and Kotoha was grateful for the distance between them when he shouted loud enough to disturb the birds roosting in the gutters above the main entrance, "Everyone did their homework?!"
"Yes!" The children called back, doing their best to match Ume's booming volume.
Kotoha sighed, mentally drafting the apology letters to their neighbors for the noise when Ume shouted, "Everyone got their handkerchiefs?!"
Proudly, the children displayed their handkerchiefs one by one with another chorus of, "Yes!"
"Hehe," Ume grinned, making a checkmark gesture with his left hand. His chin rested in the crook of his forefinger and thumb. "And your delicious bentos made by your beloved big brother?!"
Again, the children called back, "Yes!", although the oldest of them — Maki — looked at Ume in confusion as she raised her hand. "But do you have one, Ume-niichan?"
One after the other, the children realized something was missing and whispered in each other's ears before voicing their concerns aloud as they crowded around Ume. Kotoha watched with faint amusement as Ume squirmed on the spot, trying to come up with an argument for why he didn't have a lunch packed for himself while placating the children.
"It's bento day," reminded Gen, tugging at the hem of Ume's jacket to get his attention. He was the littlest of the children and barely reached mid-thigh but the weight of his stare seemed likeliest to bring Ume to his knees. "Nii-chan, you didn't forget to make one for you, right?"
"Eh? A-Ahh, well…"
Cruel as it might've been to let him suffer under their weighty stares, Kotoha thought it served him right for being such a pain to wake up. Though, she wasn't that merciless. The kids would eventually band together to take pieces of their lunches to give to Ume, and he'd tear himself apart in guilt and love for their little family, making more of a scene throughout the day. Kotoha sighed, rolling her arm to slip the tote bag hooked on her shoulder down to her elbow. Her hand dipped inside, rifling around for the soft tails of a handkerchief.
"His is right here," she called over the cacophony of dismay, and seven sets of eyes turned toward her. Their eyes lit up when she pulled a checkered handkerchief-tied lunch box from her bag; Ume's hands cupped in front of him as Kotoha walked closer to drop it in his hands. The children cheered, and Kotoha smiled at the little pat on her hand from Gen who flashed her a big toothy smile before joining the others in goading Ume into opening his lunch so they could compare. Before it could get too far out of hand, Kotoha clapped twice and the seven sets of eyes snapped to attention.
"Alright, it's time to get going," she declared, sparing a glance at her wristwatch before addressing the crowd in front of her. "So, what do we say?"
On cue, the children and Ume shouted back, "We're off now!"
Kotoha gave him a withering glare, to which he bit back a snicker, dropping his gaze to the children as they gave him high-fives and parting hugs before hurrying off to the side road that would take them to the Main Street and on toward school. The five older children walked on in pairs, aside from Maki, who looked back worriedly. Kotoha blinked, realizing why when she felt a tight grip on her apron's strings. Looking down, she saw Gen standing close to her side with his face slightly hidden against her thigh.
She glanced up, sharing a look with a sympathetic-looking Ume, before easing Gen's hand from her apron. He didn't look up when she crouched in front of him, bangs casting shadows over his eyes as he pointedly refused to meet her gaze.
"Gen-kun," Kotoha started, taking one of his hands in hers. Then unceremoniously, she said in a dry voice, "Ume is really loud, isn't he?"
Ume squawked indignantly over her shoulder, while Gen raised his head in surprise. He tipped his head back, looking up to a sulking Ume with curious eyes before shaking his head. "Mm-mm, Ume-niichan is fun…"
Like the sun came out, joy shone on Ume's face and Kotoha rolled her eyes at how easy he was to please sometimes.
"Then, is it about your new school?" She pressed, and the tight quiver of Gen's lips told her everything she needed to know. "It's a new school which means new people. Who knows, you may find a friend or two where you least expect it. They'll see how kind you are, and how caring you are. Maybe you won't have to look far, they'll come and find you instead."
Gen's eyes sparkled like topaz gems, his airy whisper of "Really?" would have almost gone unnoticed if Kotoha wasn't right in front of him. Before she could affirm her words, Ume interjected, leaning down with one hand on his knee and his lunch dangling from his fingertips.
"Mhm," he said from over Kotoha's shoulder, a smile in his voice. "Kotoha's never wrong about these things, you know?" Then, he cleared his throat theatrically, putting on what Kotoha liked to call his shōnen hero voice. "But Gen, we can't send you off without a farewell, you know…"
Kotoha glanced between Gen's focused, awe-filled expression and a proud-looking Ume who was seemingly staring off into the distance. Or rather, toward the side street where Maki still waited.
"So, let's do it together, okay?" Ume glanced down and winked at Gen, who puffed up a little and nodded in return. Kotoha shook her head, standing up and stepping aside to allow Gen to take her place next to Ume. The two of them spun around to face the orphanage's main entrance, Gen moreso clumsier than Ume. The young boy grasped his backpack's straps, catching his footing before looking up at Ume with a determined nod.
Ume smiled back. "Deep breath now," he said, making a show of drawing in as much air as he could. "And then…"
He cupped a hand around the side of his mouth and bellowed, "I'm off now!"
Kotoha clapped her hands over her ear, wincing. "Ugh, Ume—" She peeled her hands from her ears when he shot her a cheeky grin, opening her mouth to say something when a little voice shouted between them.
"I-I'm off now!"
They both looked down at Gen's flushed cheeks and bright eyes. His pleased expression melted into one of embarrassment as he looked up to Ume, fists clenched in his backpack's straps.
"L-Like that, Ume-niichan?"
Kotoha smiled softly while Ume grinned, giving him a thumbs up. "Mm! Good job."
Gen hiked his backpack up, giggling when Ume ruffled his already perpetually messy hair. Then, casting a sidelong look at Kotoha, the boy embraced her legs with a beaming smile, giving her a squeeze before running off to join Maki before she could hug him back. His backpack bounced as he ran, seeming all too big for one so small.
Kotoha's heart gave a painful twinge but she smiled nonetheless, cupping her hand around her mouth to call after them, "Maki! Look after Gen, alright?"
"Okay!" Maki called back, thrusting out her hand when Gen reached her. "C'mon, Gen-chan, let's hold hands."
Gen nodded, taking her hand with a happy sound, narrowly avoiding a puddle at his feet by pressing closer to Maki who even to Kotoha's distant gaze seemed intent on keeping Gen from harm. She watched alongside Ume as Gen and Maki turned to give them one last wave before sinking into a conversation between them as they passed through the side road, and onto the main street where the other children leapt out from hiding places behind the nearby buildings. Their laughter and arguing carried upon the breeze right back to where she stood and the sound of it was sweet enough that any pain in her heart was gone almost immediately.
"They really grow up fast, don't they," Ume said.
Kotoha hummed an idle assent, hiding a sidelong glance by adjusting the tote on her arm while lifting her gaze to Ume's face. And instead of the dopey, grinning faces she'd been seeing all morning, there was a look of quiet contemplation. His brow and jaw relaxed, mouth settled in a line lightly quirked at its edges. An acceptance of something in his eyes. He seemed proud, and she believed she knew and could understand why.
It was the same feeling she had when those boys came spilling into her café, battered and bruised, but never broken. They would offer her smiles, wholehearted grins, and compliment her cooking despite having it a thousand times over. During the times Ume would lead the charge, the warm lights tinging his hair golden, Hiragi and Tsubaki at his sides while everyone else brought up the rear - he was like a warrior general guiding his soldiers home. And even now, when he was encouraging the children to embrace their fears in his own silly way, he—
You really do look like a hero.
As if he heard her, Ume slanted a warm look in her direction. "Hm?" He hummed, turning his head toward her. "What's up, do I have something on my face?"
Kotoha's eyes drifted off. "No, I'm just thinking they don't always grow up," she turned on her heel, starting in the opposite direction. "You didn't, anyway."
"Wh—" Ume gasped. "Wait, hang on, Kotoha!"
Her lips twitched up into a smile at the sound of his footsteps pounding against the concrete as he chased after her, splashing water through careless strides over a puddle rippling with their passing reflections.
To the residents of Makochi, bearing witness to Umemiya Hajime is akin to receiving the blessing of a martial warrior god. He's greeted everywhere he turns with a smile and offers of baked goods, meal vouchers, or pre-prepared bags filled to their seams with gifts for his subordinates - an excuse so plain in its craftsmanship that Kotoha hides a laugh in her palm when the third townsperson opening up shop early thrusted a bag of packaged sweets into Ume's stuffed arms. The old woman told him to give it to the youngsters who'd recently entered Fūrin, praising them offhandedly for their good work and dedication.
"Especially that half and half, calico boy," the woman grinned. "He's a little rough around the edges, but being with you two, I'm sure he'll come into his own soon enough."
The words reverberated in her mind as they left. Her thoughts drifted further away from Ume's attempts to fill the air with news about his rooftop garden and the latest meetings with the Four Kings which to Kotoha sounded more like hanging out than strategic planning. Idly, she felt a little bad for Mizuki who enjoyed the militant aspect of organizing their respective squads. It must not have been easy to try and attempt order under a leader who was the epitome of disorderly himself.
An image gathered from the wisps of those thoughts, forming a boy with white and black hair falling into piercing eyes. She could see the curl of his grin, and his tightly clenched fists swinging at his sides as he rushed into the fray.
Suo and Nirei must have it hard too.
"—Kotoha."
She resurfaced from her thoughts with a breathy sigh, looking up to Ume who was peering closer to her face with a furrow between his brows. "You've been spacing out all morning. Are you alright?"
A smile tugged at her lips as she rolled her gaze away from his face to the empty streets ahead of them. Dappled morning sunlight skimmed the top of the neighboring buildings sending golden shafts into the streets below giving it an almost dream-like quality. Cloth awnings billowed with a spring breeze, their colorful tapestry and hanging signs gently rattling with the sound of wind chimes ringing throughout the streets as if heralding a new day. White-washed walls glowed from within with a pale yellow hue, while many of the storefront windows remained dim on the side of the street where the sunlight didn't quite reach.
The thick, stale scent of setting rainwater mingled with the freshness of produce being stocked outside by the local grocer who waved to them as they passed by. Ume turned to look over his shoulder, peering somewhere over Kotoha's head, and she followed his gaze to the narrow alleyway between the buildings where a fresh tag from some pop-up team had been thrown up on the white brick wall. She had no doubt it would be gone by the end of the day, and that team gone within the following week. Idiots who'd paint their tag on the main road where the wind chimes rung on every street corner and storefront never lasted long.
"Bofūrin's changed since this year started, hasn't it?"
Kotoha sighed, shifting her bag from between them to her opposite side. "Why are you asking me?"
"Well, as our community advisor, you'd know better than anyone how the townsfolk feel," Ume said, smiling when she took a few of the bags from his arms.
"If you keep teasing me, I'm going to smack you," Kotoha warned, lifting her empty hand in an even emptier threat.
Ume grinned, sheepish and placating. "Sorry, sorry…" Then in a breath, his expression changed to the one of serious contemplation as he focused on her entirely as if asking 'Well?'.
In response, Kotoha sighed and gave it some thought. When Ume first started escorting her to and from Pothos, it wasn't a matter of just spending time together or doting on his younger sister - but a means of protection. Back then, girls went missing off the streets anywhere from a few hours to days at a time. The end result of their reappearance often came with stories they either couldn't or refused to speak about. Police provided little support either, often taking the side of the accused or downright dismissing claims on grounds of a lack of evidence. Not that they were brave enough to try and search for any to begin with.
At the time, Ume would walk with her personally, and if he couldn't - it was Hiragi or Tsubaki or a number of his ever-growing group of friends. While it didn't stop the attempts, it certainly dissuaded the cleverer types from making a move. Everyone who opposed Ume's way of doing things tried to aim for his weaknesses, the people and things he loved the most. What they didn't know was how far he would go to keep his loved ones safe. She couldn't recall the last time he became so enraged that he became a living, breathing oni - but she did remember Hiragi's ashen face and trembling hand clutching her fingers in supplication, begging her to call one of them if she was ever in danger.
As happy-go-lucky as Ume appeared, his anger was terrifying even to the people on his side. And he was always angriest when the people he loved were hurt. So he'd throw himself into the fray, beat back the evils with his own two hands, the burdens on his shoulders never slowing him down even for a second. She still worried, but with all the people backing him, it felt easier to breathe when he left her sight.
Not that she would ever let him know that. He was already smothering enough.
"I thought all of you would be stretching yourselves thin," she said, voice pensive and distant to her ears as she gathered her thoughts. "It's impossible, isn't it? Despite how many people Fūrin has, there's always another team with nasty guys popping up somewhere…" Her nose wrinkled lightly with a sharp downward curve to her lips. "It's like a roach infestation."
Ume tensed in her periphery, whispering astonishedly, "That's cold, Kotoha."
"You asked for my opinion."
"True, true," he conceded. "So, what do you think changed it all?"
Kotoha sighed, shooting him a glare. He smiled impishly in return, willing to wait her out as they stopped at a crosswalk. Impatiently, Kotoha stared up at the red halt sign, willing it to turn to a walking man so she could sprint across the road and leave Ume in the dust. But instead, a car rumbled past them, sending the faint musk of exhaust fumes and thin trails of smoke into the open air as it turned down onto another street. The smoky wisps meandered across the road, dancing in the open air and dissipating with the sunlight but in its depths her mind conjured the image of a greyish-blue gunmetal eye peering back at her from the other side of the street. As it turned to look at her fully, she felt its gaze was reaching somewhere past her rather than looking right at her. The face of a boy, still soft with childhood, but hardened with the unfairness of life surrounded the eye - making its harsh piercing stare soften.
She could imagine him standing there by his lonesome, like a cat taking acknowledgment of a person in its vicinity. Then, once its curiosity was settled, it would turn away just like the specter in her mind - disappearing from sight in a blink.
"Please walk carefully," the street-crossing sign said, and Kotoha shook off her stupor, mildly annoyed to find Ume was still looking at her but now with a knowing glimmer in his eyes.
She let out a soft breath, breathing in the fresh air twinged with a sweetness she'd only come to appreciate recently. "Ever since he moved here, it's as if the wind's changed," Kotoha said. She pretended not to notice how Ume's smile widened at those words and his subtle nod of encouragement. "Whenever there's a fight, he's right there at the center of it, rushing headlong into danger. If someone needs a helping hand, he grumbles and groans about it but lends one anyway."
A little laugh escaped her when she remembered how Granny Sato gently bullied Sakura into carrying her places. Although she'd made it very clear that her hip was nowhere near as bad as she complained, Sakura still brought her by the café whenever she asked.
"He's a good kid," Kotoha overheard Sato say to one of her neighbors while she was on her way back from the grocers one day. "A bit loud, but get him going and he's a hoot!"
The bag in her arms crinkled as she hugged it tighter to her chest, smiling up at the sky still tinged with a bit of rose-gold. "He says the only good thing about him is fighting," she averted her eyes back to the street, imagining Sakura's stricken expression. If he heard what Granny Sato said, Kotoha imagined he would turn red all the way to his hair roots and shout his head off while vehemently denying it. Then take off running, dizzy with exhilaration and uncertainty when Kotoha finally gave in to her impulse to ruffle his hair. "For someone with such great senses, he's so blind to himself. The air's always light and sweet when he's around, and everything looks brighter in his eyes. There's just something about him, I can't put a finger on it."
The thought of Sakura running away at full speed sent a peal of bubbling laughter from her lips. "Don't tell him I said any of that," she said, elbowing Ume lightly as he battled his own attempt at laughter. "He'll avoid the shop for weeks and make himself sick with those skimpy convenience store lunches."
Ume sobered up with a tiny smile. "I won't," he promised, looking ahead as he breathed in deeply then released it with an open-mouthed sigh. "I want him to keep coming by Pothos anyway."
Kotoha tipped her head, curious, but it didn't take much to get Ume going when he had a thought in mind.
"When you first told me about him, I wasn't sure what to think. An outsider with no connections to the town vying for the top spot with his fists alone just seemed like some thick-headed bull blinded by the old Fūrin's glory," his lip curled a little at the last word, spat with a hint of vitriol. Then, his voice sweetened as he emphasized, "But Sakura isn't thick-headed or a bull…" a touch of admiration and affection slipped beneath his words, eyes alight with pride. "He's good-hearted, clever, and quick-witted — when he shows up, he does it with his whole self in the way he wants, like a cat."
Kotoha snorted, and Ume flashed her a grin as though saying, 'You see it too right?' And when she nodded, he let out a breathy, gleeful laugh to which she joined in with a chuckle of her own.
As their laughter died, the contemplative wistfulness of Ume's voice returned as his gaze stretched far off from where they were. "Shishitoren and Fūrin would've been at odds with each other for much longer than this if it wasn't for Sakura. And Anzai-kun wouldn't have survived if Sakura hadn't stepped up as his comrade."
Kotoha hummed in agreement.
"Although, he's far from feeling a house cat's security," Ume said. "Someone, no… a lot of people hurt him too much for him to trust anyone that easy. Everyone's doing their best, but it's like he's waiting for one of us to pull the rug out from under him. If we did, he'll land on his feet, I've got no doubt about that, but his eyes won't ever see us the same."
It took him this long to look at everyone properly, Kotoha thought, remembering Sakura's downcast eyes. He was so much like Gen, or perhaps it was Gen who reminded her of Sakura. The inability to meet someone's eyes, the desire to trust but the fear of rejection or being let down. Although Sakura's mouth made her want to throttle him sometimes, she wished she could wrap her arms around him and hold him without feeling his body turn to stone in her embrace. That if she reached for him, he wouldn't throw up a fist to block her hand, anticipating it to hurt rather than soothe.
One day, she thought to herself, relieved to see Pothos' storefront unscathed. It'd been a long time since anyone tried to leave a tag on its walls or break through the windows, especially after it became the well-known spot for Bofūrin to gather, but she still held her breath every morning.
"—Which is why, I'm relying on you, Community Advisor Tachibana Kotoha!"
Startled, Kotoha whipped her head around to find Ume grinning at her with an imperious finger pointed straight in her direction. His shout caught the attention of the few store owners and passersby on the street, making them look over to them in interest or amusement - perhaps both. After seeing them for years, the townsfolk were more than likely used to these things happening. It still didn't make it any less embarrassing.
Kotoha's eyebrow twitched, heat creeping up the back of her neck as she closed her eyes, struggling with the want to yell and the need to keep some semblance of maturity. When the impulse to reign Ume in won out, she opened her eyes and shouted, "Quiet down, you— hey!" She turned her head, glaring at his retreating back. He peeked over his shoulder, eyes innocently wide. "You're going to dump all of that on me and just leave?!"
Ume blinked twice, then hiked a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. "Sakura hasn't opened his heart to Fūrin fully, he's trying but it's going to take some time. He has opened up to you though."
"Hah? Maybe you need seeing glasses too," Kotoha said, the image of Sakura's face, warm and soft with laughter amidst the surprised joy of his classmates flashed across her mind. He'd never smiled like that with her, did he?
"Nah, I know what I'm looking at…" Ume turned around to face her, shifting his belongings to one arm before reaching out with the other. His hand settled atop her head, giving a little pat. Ordinarily, she would've batted his hand off or side-stepped it before he could touch her, but there was something about his gaze that reminded her of the bold-faced kid who greeted her when she first came to Fūrinen. "When the town was wary in serving us, and no one wanted Fūrin students dining in, you kept Pothos open for all of us. You gave us a place to come back to, good food to eat, medicine and bandages to patch us up, and an ear when we needed it. Bofūrin wouldn't be what it is without you."
His hand smoothed down to the back of her hand in a slow, gliding curve, pushing her forward until her forehead pressed against his chest.
"I'm entrusting Sakura to you. Take care of our little brother until he can smile without a second thought and look to the top with his eyes, rather than clawing his way there on bloodied hands."
He patted her head twice.
"And if he falls now and again, just give him a bit of encouragement. I'll handle the rest."
Honestly, this guy…
Kotoha drew in a deep breath, elbowing her way out of his hold. "Is that all you had to say?" she said, turning away before he could look at her too long and break the mask of indifference she wore. Her hand rifled in her apron's pocket for her keys, and by some miracle, she didn't drop it in her haste to unlock the door.
"I'll see you later, Kotoha! Love you!" Ume called, and she could picture him waving his free hand around like an idiot, shameless in his declarations of love and undeterred by her frostiness as the door shut firmly behind her.
With her back pressed to the wall, Kotoha took a few quick breaths to cool her face and peeked out the window, sighing at the sight of Ume's retreating back and the quick glimpse of his smiling face before he disappeared from view.
"… Love you too, nii-chan."
The morning continued so routinely Kotoha nearly forgot the conversation she had with Ume. Regulars came by with orders for coffee, juice, or water and a light meal to start the day off with, chatting with her about one topic to another while the sound of clinking cutlery and sizzling cookware provided pleasant background noise. At times, the conversation veered toward Fūrin, and Kotoha was vaguely reminded of Ume's request, stealing a glance at the wall clock or her watch to check the time. One of her regulars, a mousy young man who served as a coffee jockey for a small firm located nearby, smiled when he set a few bills on the counter.
"I hope whoever you're waiting for comes soon, Tachibana-san," he said with a polite bow. "Thank you again for the food."
"You're welcome, and thank you," Kotoha said to his back, waving before she started to clean up. Her cheeks burned with mortification as she counted the money, and sorted it out in the register. Why did Ume have to say that now of all times? She blew out a sigh when the door shut, leaving her with only the percolating coffee maker and a waiting pile of dishes to keep her company once the register closed. Waiting for Sakura to arrive was like anticipating a feral cat to return to the place you'd left it. Possible, but highly unlikely, depending on how it felt.
Still, how else was he going to get a proper meal? With no stove or fridge, there wasn't any way for him to store food at his place. Kotoha frowned as she filled the deep sink with water, squeezing in a bit of dish soap before swirling her hand around at the bottom. Bubbles gathered at the water's surface, growing in size and volume while thin trails of steam rose to greet her waiting hand. There had to be something she could do about that, but Sakura could be so prickly about accepting help, even now. When would that tiresome script of his run out?
The door's bell chimed and Kotoha quickly shoved thoughts of Sakura and Ume to the back of her mind, wiping her damp soapy hands off on a clean hand towel before returning to the front counter. "Welcome I—" she cut off abruptly with a breathy oh, tipping her head with a curious sound. "Sakura, you're just in time."
It would be just her luck that he'd arrive the minute she decided to set aside thoughts of what to do with and for him. But what fond exasperation she felt was eclipsed by concern. The breadth of his shoulders was pulled taut in a rigid, trembling line. His jaw clenched tight enough that a vein jumped at the side of his neck. Gold and grey eyes surveyed the café's lobby, searching every booth and table for something, and whatever he found must have been what he wanted because his eyes softened for a fraction of a second. Then, snapped toward Kotoha with the same piercing feline stare she'd come to associate with Sakura.
He marched up to the bar, but instead of taking his usual seat at the counter, he stood on the other side facing Kotoha with a steely expression. Silence stretched between them and the longer it held, the more Sakura's flint-eyed stare bore into her. Kotoha stopped herself from telling him to just say something; her attention flitting over his tense stance. While his face screamed pissed off and on edge, the soft curve of his ears flushed rosy pink at their tips.
Kotoha bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling because whatever was going through Sakura's head was definitely going to be fun.
"T—" Sakura started, and Kotoha's eyebrows nearly raised at the crack in his voice at the same time as his eyes widened in humiliation. She schooled her features, folding her arms across her chest in a show of patience, as a battle played out on his face on whether or not to continue. Ultimately, whatever he'd come to say seemed more important than his nicked pride, and he continued with, "Those meals you've been giving me every time I dropped off the old ba—"
"Sato-baachan," Kotoha kindly, yet firmly interjected.
"Urk," Sakura made a choked sound, averting his gaze in a way Kotoha now knew was apologetic. A little idiosyncrasy where he would try to commit something to memory and chastise himself for being reprimanded. She smiled briefly when his gaze darted aside, then returned to a neutral look when he lifted his eyes. "Yeah… her. And the times I dropped in during the morning, and with the guys, a— y'know what I mean. Were all those f-free?"
Kotoha blinked, tilting her head with a confused lilt to her voice, "Well.. yeah." She shrugged, rolling a hand toward the counter with a little sweeping gesture. "This isn't a bar, you know. No one has a tab here. Besides, you're providing a service to the community. The least I can do is keep your strength up by giving you a meal here or there."
While she felt she handled that pretty well, the line of Sakura's shoulders trembled and his face crumpled with something akin to pain flickering in his eyes. "Tsk," he gritted his teeth, jamming a hand into his pocket. "I know how my place looks but I'm not some charity case, I got the cash to pay."
She stared as a handful of crumpled bills and coins were thrust toward her, suspended over the counter in a faintly trembling hand. Slowly, Kotoha raked her eyes up the length of Sakura's arm to his face, taking in his jawline’s sharp jut, the deep crease between his brows, and the shadows cast by his bangs as he tried to bore a hole into Kotoha’s face with a gimlet eye. The aura itself was impressive, but only that.
"No."
"Hah?! Whaddya mean no? Just take the money!"
"No thanks."
Like a deflated balloon, all the hot air escaped Sakura immediately. His face fell back into that bewildered, disoriented look he always had when someone didn't act to the script he was used to following. Kotoha smiled inwardly, practically witnessing the gears turning in his head at her refusal. He was too nice of a guy to just throw it on the counter and storm out. It would've defeated the purpose, and in the back of his mind, he was likely worried she'd hate him for showing such a blatant sign of "aggression".
Sakura glanced around, and Kotoha followed his eyes to one of the menus left out on the counter. His eyes scanned it quickly, face clearing with some sort of understanding.
"What, is it ‘cause it's not enough?" He asked, looking back at her with newfound and utterly misplaced determination. A desperation in his eyes as he opened his hand and started sorting through the wad of wrinkled change. "Shit, how much debt did I wrack up here anyway? Listen, I'll get the rest to you, so just take this and—"
Kotoha's eyebrow twitched. She apologized to the smiling Ume in her mind, but this was torture. "Do you have lint in your ears or something?" She chided, softening just as the painful twinge in her chest settled when she noticed Sakura flinch. He didn't curl in on himself as some of the kids did earlier on when they came to Fūrinen. It was in the way he stilled, the contraction of his pupils, the way he held himself tighter without moving a muscle - trying to keep from running away, but seeming paralyzed for a second. The desire to reach out to him and wrap him in her arms returned, but it wouldn't do either of them any good. Finding the line where Sakura would allow gestures of goodwill was touch and go.
The tough part of healing was that sometimes wounds could re-open, even when they had begun to scab over.
"I'm not taking your money," Kotoha declared firmly.
He's so young.
Although they were similar in age, the way Sakura's face softened with such naked vulnerability and loss tugged at Kotoha's heartstrings. She saw Gen juxtaposed over Sakura's face, hesitating to meet the eyes of those speaking to him no matter how welcoming or gentle the voice. She remembered how bangs hid his eyes from view, jaw trembling like he was holding back a sob. When did Gen stop shying away from crowds, or hesitating to reach out to touch someone’s hand or sleeve to get their attention when his voice didn’t reach? When did he stop flinching when they reached for him? How long did it take for him to talk to someone without staring at his shoes, or a part of the wall or the ceiling?
She remembered it well - the moment Gen lifted his head and met her eyes with a teary sheen to his, asking for help without the words to express it. Her hand tightened against the crevice of her elbow to keep from reaching out, and the image of Gen faded away when Sakura's eyes — specifically, his golden one — hardened into a deep ochre.
Who took away Sakura’s ability to cry when he couldn’t find the words to ask for help? Something even babies knew how to do. Since when did the world abandon this boy?
A hiss of barely contained rage, one she hadn't found herself on the receiving end of in some time from him, followed the snapping outburst of, "Fucking listen to me, you—"
"Kotoha."
Sakura stopped, drawing back his hand in bemusement. "What?"
"If you want to repay me so bad, start by calling me by my name," she lifted a finger as she continued, "Not you, not hey. Ko-to-ha. Got it?"
Sakura hesitated, then gave a barely-there nod.
"Second, you can keep doing the work you've been doing…" Kotoha dropped her arms, but kept one finger raised. "Which means going to school, doing your patrols, cleaning up the neighborhood, and helping out old folk like Sato-baachan. You're good trouble, y'know." Drawing her hands back to rest on her hips, she cheerfully smiled at him, pleased by the pinking in his cheeks.
Without his bluster and shouting, Sakura stood there woodenly, seeming at a loss for what to do. Taking her advantage, Kotoha reached below the counter and pulled a handful of cling film off the still-warm plate of omelette rice before pulling it out to set on the counter. Sakura's eyes dropped to it immediately, and Kotoha knew the definition of 'eyes lighting up' had to be in the way Sakura looked at a plate of food.
His knuckles knocked against the counter again as he seemed to forget his hand entirely, entranced by the prospect of his usual breakfast. Coins bounced against the countertop and wrinkled bills fluttered to the ground below, entirely ignored as Sakura reached for the plate.
"Ah ah," Kotoha chided, pulling it away at the last second. Sakura's crestfallen expression shifted into one of mild indignation as he glared up at her. "The price of this is one question."
"A question?" He echoed suspiciously.
Kotoha's lips curled into a furtive smile. "Mhm, and that question is…" She set the plate down gently between them, keeping it pulled more-so toward her than him. Their eyes meeting over the streams of steam rising from the fluffy ketchup-decorated egg. "Are you happy, Sakura?"
Sakura's mouth fell open, brows nearly joining at their corners as he squinted at her. "Hah?" A beat passed, and her question seemed to sink in fully, his face exploding in a riot of scarlet red, forehead creasing as his eyebrows nearly jumped to his hairline. "H-Happy?! I— " He wavered, quickly looking around as if someone else were there to eavesdrop or was waiting for his answer to leap out and ridicule him. When his paranoia was satisfied, he jerked his head back to her, then dropped his gaze longingly to the omelette rice with a growl of frustration.
"What kind of question is that?! Happy about what? And what's it matter to y—"
"Kotoha."
"Quit interrupting me, damn it!" He made a swipe for the plate with a curled hand like a cat's paw, and Kotoha lifted it out of the way in time to keep him from snatching it. "And give it back!"
The door chimed again while Kotoha was fending Sakura off with one open palm pressed to his cheek, and the omelette rice held safely away. A familiar head of blond hair poked in before the rest of him followed suit, treating her to the sight of Nirei Akihiko's smiling face. He waved to her, beaming from ear to ear, "Kotoha-san! Good morning!"
"Oh, Nirei," Kotoha greeted amiably, giving Sakura a light shove backward before she set the plate down and gave Nirei a wave. "Morning."
Sakura stumbled heel over heel, nearly colliding into Nirei who quickly moved to catch him by his shoulders. Doe-eyed concern turned to mild displeasure when Sakura gently shouldered off his hands and marched back toward the counter. "Ehh? You haven't finished eating yet, Sakura-san?" Nirei cried in dismay, "We'll be late if you take too long."
"Shut up," Sakura shouted back, taking up his seat at the bar before snatching the plate into a close draw toward himself. Nirei glanced down at the ground, picking up the crumpled bills and fallen coins while chiding Sakura about being too loose with his money. At the mention of going to a department store after school to find a wallet, Sakura's eyes drifted down to where Nirei was crouched beyond Kotoha's sight. But her attention was solely on Sakura and the way his eyes relaxed, ease settling into his face and smoothing out the tension in his cheeks until they were rounded.
When Nirei stood up, the look was gone, and Sakura's attention was turned back to his plate. His mouth opened as he prepared to dig in only to squint around his dish, lifting the plate then glancing down at the floor.
Kotoha laughed quietly, offering him utensils with a satisfied smirk when he fixed an accusatory glare on her outstretched hand. "Good enough," she said, not minding the grumble under his breath as he took it from her.
Nirei occupied the seat beside Sakura, and Kotoha went to fetch a pitcher of juice for the both of them. Their conversation was rather one-sided with Nirei talking while Sakura stuffed his face with egg and rice, bits of ketchup clinging to the corner of his lips while his vegetables remained almost obstinately untouched.
You're never going to get taller that way, Kotoha thought, setting down a cup for Nirei who thanked her heartily before he took a sip. Then, she set down the other for Sakura, huffing when he didn't even glance up from his food - continuing to scarf it down as if it was the last meal he'd ever eat.
Someday, you won't be like this, Kotoha thought as her hand moved without thinking, settling on the top of his head with a little stroke. She barely heard the choked sputter, or the clatter of silverware, focused on petting the quivering head under hand. You'll have as much as you want to eat, and drink, a—
"—Quit petting me like I'm some animal!" Sakura shouted, breaking her out of her reverie with a toss of his hand. She managed to pull her hand back in time, surprised by the outburst and her unconscious touch. Bits of rice and egg spattered across the counter, and Kotoha wandered away to grab a rag while Sakura and Nirei fussed in the background.
"S-Sakura-san! Don't talk while you're eating," Nirei flusteredly cried. "A-And why're you yelling at Kotoha-san?! She must have had a reason, apologize! Ah, and Kotoha-san, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for a-all, well… Don't tell Umemiya-san, please! We'll be gone in just a minute! Sakura-san, eat, eat!"
"Do you want me to eat or apologize?! Make up your mi— ack!"
"Ah! Sakura-san! Drink!"
Kotoha picked up a clean rag before she turned back to the counter where Nirei was coaching a recovering Sakura to drink his juice while patting him on the back. His other hand rested on the curve of Sakura's loose shoulder, not tossed or shouldered off or flinched from, but welcome.
She smiled to herself, cleaning up the mess.
What a good way to start the day.