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Time moved strangely for two teenagers who didn’t understand feelings but kept tripping over them. Weeks went into months, and whatever hazard had happened at the sakura tree eventually shifted itself into something that was routine, a very odd one.
Ayano Aishi settled the rhythm first returning to hovering near Itachi Zametora exactly the way she had before her attempt at being “delicate and quiet” when thinking that would make him like her more, except now she did it with a kind of gentle confidence, like she believed she had earned the right to exist near him. She didn’t cling to his sleeve or grab his arm as often, but she drifted close whenever he was around. She walked behind him to class, sat near him at lunch, lingered by the gates and walked near him back home until she had to take her own path home… and, well, Itachi didn’t tell her to leave. Every single moment you could see them together, he looked like he was about to snap at her, yet he didn't.
Every few days she brought a bento usually with a bow or fabric in some shade of green. She kept band-aids in her pocket too, Itachi always seemed to come with bruises or a split knuckle from accidentally punching the wall during basketball or whatever game they decided to play at lunch time. Whenever she offered him a band-aid, his answer was always the same:
“Tch, I don’t need that.”
He let her apply them without complaining anyway. Never pulling his hand away yet acting like he hated her attention, like she was a parasite whose only purpose was to gnaw at his nerves. Ayano didn’t feel much at all… except when he spoke to her. When that happened, that strange warmth bloomed in her chest.
And mostly when he spoke to her, it was to scold her, and he scolded her for everything, everything small and ridiculous. If she forgot her own lunch one day, he snapped at her for being careless before tossing some yen at her and telling her to go buy something before she passed out… in his words. She'd thank him and he would roll his eyes so hard he nearly saw his brain. If she stained her uniform he would call her stupid again then immediately remove his gakuran jacket and thrust it at her chest telling her to “bring it back tomorrow.”
His mother and father didn’t understand the lending. His mother assumed he had finally made a friend and his father assumed he was being manipulated by a cunning girl intent on stealing his stuff.
Itachi always repeated the same lie: “She’s being a leech. I give her stuff so she stops bothering me.”
Not a single adult believed him and decided not to interfere into their nonsense.
And Ayano… she cherished every tiny act of care he didn’t realize he was giving so obviously. She washed the gakuran with care every time she happened to borrow it back home, folded it perfectly and returned it without a wrinkle the next day, accepting the insults or complains at her without flinching.
One evening, the air bit sharper than usual, the neighborhood park was quiet and touched by winter without snowfall. The trees swung with a cold wind slicing through the branches. The sky was pale, fading into warm colors as Itachi shoved his gloved hands deeper into his hoodie pockets and stood near a lamp post, breath fogging in white puffs. He wore a heavy grey hoodie and over that, a thick dark-green jacket zipped up to his throat.
He didn't usually pass through these places so deliberately unless it was to run until his lungs hurt, but Ayano had asked him to meet her. The way she had said those words had been so earnest, unfiltered.
Itachi scowled at nothing. His heel tapped the ground in agitation, like he was preparing to walk away. Ayano was five minutes late, that careless act was insulting for him already, always strict when it came to people wasting his time. He inhaled sharply, ready to turn around and—
“Itachi.”
Her voice drifted calmly from the path. His body turned around and the moment his eyes caught her frame, he immediately got angry.
Ayano was walking toward him covered in… the wrong clothes for the weather. An oversized sweater, jeans barely covering her knees. For a winter day under ten degrees she was dressed like she had lost a bet and forced to dress for spring.
He didn’t bother greeting her, marching right up to her, eyes starting to narrow, eyebrows furrowing more than usual at her and asking things in that haughty tone no normal teenager had the right use with others. “Why are you dressed like that?”
She blinked, looking down at herself and back up to answer at the visibly irritated young man in front of her. “I’m wearing normal clothes.”
“It’s freezing, literally less than ten degrees.”
She looked down at her sweater as if checking whether it existed. “Well, I am wearing this.”
Itachi looked baffled at her response. “That’s not enough, you know.” He exhaled through his teeth, ran a hand through his hair, changing the subject. “…Why did you want to meet?”
Ayano stood still looking almost shy, but her voice remained steady, eyes fixated on him. “I wanted to take a walk with you.”
The warmth in her tone, soft and wanting and genuine, sent Itachi’s heart into orbit. Even if she said it before, it felt worse when being told twice. Itachi muttered some curse under his breath and shrugged off his jacket without more questions, Ayano opened her mouth to ask why but he didn’t let her say anything else.
He grabbed the jacket and shoved her arms through the sleeves, not kindly or rough enough, she stood frozen in surprise as he tugged the collar straight and pulled the zipper up to her chin. No one ever asked for him to do it, he had the choice of not giving her stuff or caring for her, yet…
He stared at her, groaning and again trying to adjust the collar of the jacket on her properly, voice coming quieter, still finding a way to sound insulted for her carelessness. “Do you ever think? Do you have any idea how annoying it is to babysit you every time?”
Ayano didn’t respond, couldn’t, really. Her cheeks were burning pink, she wasn’t used to this approach, literal or emotional, maybe both felt the same for her. He quickly noticed the look she was giving him and scowled even harder, face heating more than hers was. She hadn't done most of things on purpose these couple of months but he still believed she was. The wrong things were seen as deliberate.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he barked. “You're not dumb, you do this on purpose.”
Itachi stepped back to look at Ayano just to see that she looked like a dumpling, a ridiculously cute stuffed dumpling; His jacket swallowed her, the fabric three sizes too big for her. He scoffed under his breath, more flustered than annoyed realizing he was staring at her longer than he would ever allow.
“Whatever, let’s go. Move. I'm not gonna wait for you.”
He turned away and started walking, expecting her to follow without question, of course she did, too close and too weird if it was any other person in the world walking next to him. Itachi would never accept that walking beside her didn’t feel bothersome, neither that something behind his ribs felt warm and embarrassing whenever she stared at him with those big, black eyes.