Written in 10 minutes, spur of the moment.
"What is this old stuff anyway?"
Rinne hefted a wooden box up to his chest.
"Oh! Be careful with that!"
Tamako rushed over to help her grandson set the box down on her dining table. She shooed Rinne away so that she could unhook the latch and open the lid. She smiled, removing the pink cloth from over the top.
"These," she started, removing an old-fashioned pinwheel from the box. "are some of my toys from when I was a child. I can't I forgot about these."
She plucked a folded yukata from the bottom.
"Look at this! I can't believe I was ever this small." She held the child sized yukata over her chest. It was still black, but thin pink ribbons and flowers.
"I thought I was helping you clean," Rinne complained.
Tamako frowned at Rinne. "Don't be a spoilsport. I haven't seen this box since my mother packed it away."
Rinne shook his head. "So wait, you grew up in this house?"
"Of course. This house has been in the Rokudo family for over six centuries."
"Rokudo?"
"Hm? Oh, the name," Tamako remarked of Rinne's confusion, "I was an only child, so your grandfather agreed to take my name when we married."
A wry smile marked Tamako's lips. "And when you get married, I hope you'll move back in as well. Keep this old house in the family."
Rinne squinted. "That's never going to—"
"It would have to be someone like Sakura, you know," Tamako interrupted.
Rinne promptly shut his jaw.
Tamako placed the yukata and pinwheel back in the box.
"Either a Shinigami, or a human who can see us…like Sakura-chan. "
She thought on it for a second, "What exactly is going on between you two anyways? You bring her over here a lot, are you going out or—"
When Tamako looked back, Rinne had gone back into the storage room. Tamako glared through nearly closed eyes. He was a good Shinigami, but sometimes he had a habit of losing interest and doing his own thing. She shouted, "Were you listening at all?!"
A quick "No!" was shouted in return by the blushing teenager.