A/N: My first multi-chaptered story on ff. It feels a bit scary uploading something that's not a oneshot haha;;

That being said, this'll be a (sorta) short ride, around ten-ish chapters or so; I hope you guys stick around!

Title: the news said it would rain today
Rating:
T
Warning:
Modern!AU, OCs, more warnings will pop up as the story goes on
Genre/s:
Drama(...?), Friendship, Romance
Pairing/s:
Azura x Kaze, other pairs
Summary:
When Kaze gets new neighbours, he's quickly entrusted to take care of their daughter: a girl named Azura who keeps to herself instead of speaking up. But what's a bit of downpour if the sun shines in the end? With gloves, a coat, and boots on his feet, Kaze's ready to handle any upcoming storms, both in her skies and his [modern!au]. (or: kaze waits for her; for nylon stripes, wisterias, and a little bit of rain.)
Inspiration/s:
Rain, rain, rain

Hope you enjoy!

I do not own Fire Emblem.

P.S. My brain still feels wired on no capitalization (because i wrote the chapter like that), so there might be some words that aren't capitalized but should be. I think I caught most—if not all of them—but feel free to note anything amiss!


clear skies—day 1
[damp soil, bike bells, azure blue]

The afternoon sun is sweltering, towering high as it evaporates rain from yesterday. In the heat, Kaze tastes strawberries on Corrin's front steps. Popsicles melt on his tongue instead of the asphalt. Birds twitter. The branches don't shake; only leaves and grass rustle, weak against the wind's caress.

Unlike his sisters, Corrin is a man of few words. He hides his tongue, as well as his cheek, speaking only when necessary or prompted. He's quiet in a way that deems him mysterious, just enough to wonder what's on his mind. As his best friend, Kaze has learned how to read his cues. And right now, Corrin's pensive—he leans forward to rest his head on a palm, eyes dark as they stare at the ground. Kaze knows better than to interrupt his train of thought.

So he gazes upwards. The harsh rays making him wince. It coats his skin in yellow and he feels it tan before him. Past houses and treetops, there is a large expanse of ocean skies: deep above and shallow in the horizon, nary a cloud in blue gradation.

Like strawberries, the sight is calming. Kaze sighs as he runs the flavour in his mouth, teeth digging until he chips a piece off. It spreads to his roof and gums before wasting into liquid, and he savours it before his teeth dig again.

"Overmorrow," Corrin begins, and the words just reach his ears, "my aunt and uncle will be coming."

Kaze snorts, soft and light so Corrin doesn't hear. He sounds like Orochi, though Orochi sounds like him. "To visit?"

"No." Tilting his head, Corrin joins Kaze in the skies. He's quiet, squints at the sun for long enough like he's forgotten. But he's Corrin, Kaze thinks. He's only practicing his lines. "They're going to live in our house."

Popsicle shrinks. "That's quite the news."

"I know."

"Have you met them before?"

"I don't know." Remember if he has, he means. "Mother promises I'll like them, and Father says they're kind people." While his words are nice, his tense hands tell of frustration, weight, a hint of bitterness. They're odd to hear against what Kaze's feeling. "But I don't know. Them, anything. My parents won't say a word."

Maybe that's where his frustration is stemming—the not knowing. "I see," Kaze says, means it. At sixteen, he understands. But the emphasis is greater on Corrin, almost three years younger and wise beyond his years. He knows too much for someone who shouldn't, and that's why the not knowing hurts. There's expectation there, somewhere, mixed with a little pride, like secrets dishonour instead of protect him.

Still a child though, Kaze reminds himself. This much resentment is fine.

"They have a daughter too," Corrin continues. "Her name is Azura."

Kaze tastes wood. As the last of the strawberry disappears, he tries her name. "Azura." Foreign. Odd. Strange. He sits a little straighter. "That's Nohrian, isn't it?"

Corrin shrugs. "They're from Valla." His tone is final, like it explains everything, but Kaze knows he just doesn't want to talk. Pursed lips, narrowed gaze; it's funny because he started the subject. And it's too bad Kaze won't give him the final word.

"Well, they should still take a vacation. There's plenty to see here," he says. All this blue must be getting to his head. "It'd be a shame if they don't go sightseeing. I'll make a travel guide as their welcome gift."

Corrin's face scrunches, nose wrinkling and lips twitching until he can't hold it in.

He laughs.

It's short and stiff, more like a bark than in amusement, but it still echoes through the blue, blue skies.


Kaze hears the trucks before he sees them, roaring engines amidst a silent house. His mother is tending the garden at the back while his father and Saizou are out at the shop. Of course housekeeping isn't going to mask the noise.

Opening the curtains, he watches the trucks stop a few ways down the street. Puddles splash underneath their wheels as they leave wet tracks in their wake; it rained again today, at early morning. He doesn't mind the weather, but it reminds him that it'll be fall soon. School will start again before he knows it.

The delivery men open the back of the trucks, heaving boxes onto delivery carts and pushing them into Corrin's house. Mikoto is there to greet them, an unknown man to her side. Kaze blinks. The curtains slide shut.

Floorboards creak under his weight as he ambles through the house. Their garden is a glass pane away at the back, spanning the whole of the yard with perennials: herbs, flowers, and conifers all decorate the picket fence. Vibrant splashes of spider lilies and hydrangeas are among the few that make it come to life, and they paint a pretty picture between the grass canvas.

As Kaze unlatches the door, he's greeted by the smell of rain. It seeps through their patio—laminated wood yet it smells like mildew; they've been meaning to have it checked for a while now but they haven't got the time—and it seeps through the soil, taking its roots underground. Moisture clings, the atmosphere is heavy. Mud tingles his nose.

Yet the flowers don't let themselves be overpowered. Within all the earth, there's something clean, sweet, floral. Dew, despite the time. A breath of fresh air despite the stuffiness. Kaze smiles. Must mixed with perfume is a scent he's willing to drown in.

Among it all is his mother, in the middle of removing weeds that line up the stone tiles. She looks up as he calls for her. Appearance unseemly—dirt pants, a smudging shirt, a sunhat that's seen more years than Kaze himself—her smile is still the epitome of beauty.

"Why hello, Suzukaze," she greets. "What brings you here? There's no trouble, I hope."

"None at all," he answers, smooth. "I'm as good as you are, Mother."

"Splendid! So we're both well." She's like a child in the playground, rosy-cheeked and giggling. But perhaps this is her domain, Fujiko among nature. "So what do you need from me, child?"

"The moving trucks are here—at Corrin's," he starts.

"Ah, for the new neighbours?" He nods. News travelled fast yesterday, with Mikoto spreading it through the neighbourhood; she wants her sister to have a warm welcome, and so they will provide. "You promised to help out, I take it. Self-drafted by your own politeness?"

He smiles. As well as a nice excuse to meet them, yes. "That's right, Mother."

"Then by all means, help them settle in!" She frowns, eyeing her garden. "As much as I want to come with you, I'm afraid I'll have to be late. But no matter. There's a bag of sweets in the refrigerator—could you give it to them while you're there?"

"Of course."

"I'll be counting on you then. Please send my regards while you're at it." Turning to uproot the weeds, she clears her throat before saying, "'As my mother's son, I apologize on her behalf. While she expresses sincere lamentations about her absence, there are insistent pests in our yard that she must...take care of.' Mm, don't I sound mysterious?"

The imitation of his voice has him laughing. "I'll leave them wondering when they'll meet you."

She laughs back. "Oh, that'd be wonderful, Suzukaze. But shoo. Off you go now. Luggage doesn't move by itself, you see."

"I'll see you there then, Mother," he says. "Good luck with the pests."

"Heehee, thank you. Have fun as well, dear!"

With a final wave, Kaze closes the glass door. Floorboards once again creaking under his weight, the fridge swings open, plastic rustles on his wrist. His steps are steady and fleeting across the house, barely dragging as they reach the front door. He slips his shoes on and goes outside.

Damp soil mixes with flowers, like the garden though it's less pungent. There's a third ingredient; smoke, perhaps, or the smell of sunshine, that interlocks and weaves in with the rest. Kaze breathes deeply, taking it all in. Unless it rains again, he won't be smelling this anytime soon.

When he nears their driveway, Mikoto's the first to notice him. "Kaze," she calls, a pleasant smile on her face. The man beside her is curious. "Good morning. How are you today?"

"I'm wonderful, Miss. And you?"

"Wonderful as well! Thank you." Turning to her companion, she adds, "Ryuurei, this is Suzukaze. He's the son of Fujiko, the family friend I've been talking about." She giggles, tiny bells disappearing into the air. "If you ever need help, don't hesitate to call upon him. He's quite dependable."

"I'll be counting on you then," Ryuurei says, words flowing in Kaze's mother tongue. The fluency startles him. Though Valla's known for its bilingualism, being a go-between of Byakuya and Nohr, Ryuurei's voice is barely accented. He's proficient. Kaze's impressed.

The older man takes his hand, red eyes softening in a way that reminds him of his mother. He has a good shake: strong, firm, properly-timed. But all the same, his palms are warm and soft. Comforting. Business-like, impersonal, and oxymoronic.

Kaze likes him already.

"Nice to finally meet you, Suzukaze. I'm Mikoto's brother-in-law, Ryuurei Keicho."

"The pleasure's all mine, Sir. My mother would like to greet you a warm welcome as well, but she'll arrive later than expected."

"Is that so? I'll look forward to seeing her."

"Thank you. She'd like that." Then a pause, as appropriate. "Is the neighbourhood to your liking?"

"Yes, absolutely! Everyone's been welcoming thus far." Ryuurei shakes his head, laughing. "And the scenery's beautiful—I've never seen so much colour in my life. If I'd known earlier, maybe we would've been here months ago."

Hm, interesting. "You definitely won't be disappointed," Kaze says. "Byakuya's a sight for sore eyes." Handing over the plastic bag to a surprised Ryuurei and a thrilled Mikoto, he adds, "The food's good too. I hope you and your family like sweets."

Ryuurei's teeth peek through. "Ha! We've gotten enough to last us a month. Still, I suppose another won't hurt. Thank you, boy."

"There's also a travel guide inside," Kaze says, lips twitching lopsidedly. "Maybe it'll be useful later."

"Goodness, you're going above and beyond! Arete will certainly be happy to see you, as will my daughter." Ryuurei frowns. "Although Azura's not here. And Arete is inside, but..." As he trails off, awkwardness seeps in the air. The atmosphere is heavy, humid under metaphorical clouds, but the man becomes sun soon after. "Never mind. Would you like to come in, Suzukaze? My wife will be glad to meet you."

Kaze glimpses at the movers, heaving the last of the boxes from their truck, and he reminds himself why he's here. The pleasantries are over, though he needs to keep them up. "Of course, Sir. But I'd like to help organize your things first."

Eyebrows raise. "You mean go through our luggage?"

He winces. Cheeks redden. "Sorry. That's not what I meant."

"Kaze's helping unpack," Mikoto explains. She giggles, hands folded in front to let Kaze know she's teasing. He blushes further. "Just the general things, of course. Nothing personal. Propriety doesn't escape him, though it seems eloquence does at times."

Ryuurei's sheepish when he laughs, looking guilty as he stares at Kaze. His mouth opens to apologize, but before he can say anything, one of the movers catches their attention. A booming voice by a booming man says, "Ma'am, Sir! Everything's good to go!"

Mikoto smiles. "Well, there's your call, Kaze. I'll deal with the rest here, so why don't you and Mr. Keicho start unpacking?"

He exchanges glances with Ryuurei, who nods. "Then pardon my intrusion," Kaze murmurs, slipping through the open door.

A familiar hallway greets him, one he's spent as much time in as his own. But a burst of chamomile rushes to his head. It's something he doesn't normally smell here, and curious, he turns to the kitchen. Walls block his vision. The reflex amuses Ryuurei.

"That's my wife," he says softly. Their shoes are strewn to the side. As the welcome mat's nylon pushes through Kaze socks, he curls his toes. "Drinking tea cheers her up."

"She has good taste."

Ryuurei chuckles. "She does. Now come, grab a box that's for Azura—my daughter, if you haven't heard. After we bring everything to the basement, I'll introduce you to Arete."

Wordlessly, Kaze checks for labels: 'General,' 'Fragile,' 'Ryuurei,' 'Arete;' there are only two that say 'Azura.' Each lifting a box, they head to the basement. Carpeted stairs make way for a cold and drafted room, lights flickering before they warm the surroundings in orange. The layout's different from what Kaze remembers: the TV and couch are now on the other side of the wall, enough space in the corner for a floral-printed bed and wooden table.

So this was going to be Azura's bedroom. Kaze wonders what Corrin thinks, having to share the recreational space with his cousin. Probably irritated, though he won't show it. He purses his lips in thought.

"So-" Ryuurei starts. With a blink, Kaze makes his expression neutral. "-Suzukaze, how old are you?"

"I'm turning seventeen in October, Sir."

"Last year of high school?" He nods. "A year older than Kamui?"

"Yes."

The man grins. "Azura's her age. I'm sure Kamui will keep her in check, and that'd do her some good, but she's a bit of a lonely child. I'm afraid friends won't come easily to her."

Reserved and shy—Kaze's a little like that: listens more than he talks, calm instead of boisterous, has a voice that's rarely been marred by a yell. When he nods, he nods in sympathy. But Mr. Keicho's fears are unfounded. He knows well enough that they are. "Everyone's friendly around here. She'll have no trouble being part of the community."

The smile on Ryuurei's face falters. "Oh, I know. The people here are quite hospitable. It's just, well-" Struggling to find the words, he sighs. "-she finds it hard to open up to others and tends to bottle in her emotions. I worry about her sometimes."

Silence. Kaze's not sure where the conversation is going. "She's lucky that you care so much about her," he says, slow, picking his words with utmost care. Propriety and eloquence. Mikoto would be proud.

"Haa, I suppose. But you must think I'm rambling. Getting straight to the point, I'd like you to look after her."

"...Pardon?"

Motioning to the stairs, the two climb up with their conversation. "I know her cousins will, but I was hoping you could help. With family, it seems like an obligation. Even if it doesn't feel like it."

Kaze keeps his mouth shut. Darkness bathes the basement with a click, and wordlessly, they grab Ryuurei's things and go through another set of stairs, up this time.

The Ohara siblings will be bunking together, Kaze thinks, as they place the boxes in Lilith's empty room. "I'm not forcing you to like her," Ryuurei continues. "Despite your kindness, I know some personalities don't click."

Sobriety pulls his features. Wrinkles show his age. Kaze nods in understanding.

But-

"But it's a tough time, having to move from one country to another. She'll need as much support as she can get, and I think that's something you could provide."

There's something Ryuurei isn't telling him. The cues are there. But Kaze turns a blind eye, because unlike Corrin, he's okay with not knowing. There are many things in the world that he'll never understand. He has his cards and folds.

Looking at the boxes, he finds tape peeling off the sides. Ends curl upwards. It must be the humidity. "I think," Kaze starts, "if your daughter is anything like you, then we'll get along splendidly."

Ryuurei's eyes show his reflection. He may think of Corrin, think of a stranger he hasn't met, but the concern on a parent's face doesn't fade. Like tape, Kaze smiles. "You don't have to worry, Sir. I'll take care of her."

With a sigh, the creases on the man's head recede. Out of love, Kaze tells himself. This Azura has a wonderful father. And when the sun comes back, clouds disappearing, Ryuurei brightens and so does Kaze. "Thank you, boy. I appreciate it." A pause, a thought. "After this is done, how does a cup of chamomile sound to you?"


Kaze doesn't get to talk to Arete.

Partly because his mother arrives by the time they finish and tells him he needs to go to the shop (his father's, not hers; the one where Saizou works during weekends and summers so he can take over when he's older) because "the silly mechanics forgot their lunches," but it's mostly because Arete's nowhere to be found. Mikoto left a note in the kitchen saying they went out to town, to buy some necessities they didn't have, and Ryuurei only chuckles, saying, "What unfortunate timing."

"Quite," Fujiko says, almost in a whine. Her hand drops from the doorbell and falls to her side. "I suppose I can come back-"

"Oh no," Ryuurei interrupts. "You're free to stay. I don't think they'll be gone for long, so do wait a while." He coaxes her into the house, just as Kaze goes out. Mother and child switch positions, Fujiko taking off her shoes while Kaze shrugs them on.

She looks disappointed at the reversal, like a flower without water, but she still sends him off with a smile. "Stay safe."

"Yes, Mother."

"It's been a pleasure talking to you," Ryuurei adds.

Kaze nods. "And may we meet again soon. Have a good afternoon, both of you."

"Of course," his mother says. And solely to Kaze: "Dear, when you go back home, lunch is on the kitchen table. There's three servings for you and the others. Make sure they eat it properly, alright?"

Snorting, he lets them shut the door before turning to the sidewalk. Midday, the sun's directly above him. It's light at its brightest, warmest, and he squints as he makes his way back to the house. His bicycle rests on a side wall though he can't see it from where he's standing. A quick run-through in his head, he's sure the bike's been properly cared for.

When he has the lunches, he straps them into the bike basket. Then, as careful as he can, Kaze lifts the bike off the dirt ground and onto cement. He seats himself on. A deep breath. Steering it to the driveway, he glides down alongside gravity. The containers jump at the movement, at the bumps on the sidewalk, but they don't look like they'll spill anytime soon.

So he picks up the speed. Faster and faster, his pedals cruise through the neighbourhood and into the main streets. Noon, the roads are messy. People and vehicles crowd around. Engines groan, cars honk, chatter multiplies, sun burns. Kaze waits for stoplights to turn green. He waits for right turns and twists and crossing pedestrian lanes. With aching legs, he tries to keep up with the traffic.

By the time he reaches the shop, Kaze works up a sweat. He runs an arm over his forehead, fans his shirt—wiping away the sticky warmth—rings his bike thrice, and chains it to a nearby post. When he heads inside, the lunches are in tow. Then he sighs as a the blast of air conditioning greets him hospitably.

One of the workers does too. "Hey, Kaze!" He's cheery despite his rugged looks: greasy overalls, rough beard, stained shoes from working overtime. A kit in his hands, the man waves it in greeting. "I thought I heard that annoying bell of yours."

Kaze smiles. Sweat cooling, he feels disparity as if his muscles have been iced. Not the best feeling in the world, though he welcomes it. "Good afternoon to you too, Mr. Mizuno. Do you know where my father is?"

"Ha! Damn straight I do! You looking for him, kid? He's over in the back; he and Sai are doing repairs."

After thanking him for the information (and greeting the clerk at the counter—some part-timer they got last week. Kaze hasn't caught her name yet, but he reminds himself to do it some time), he pops into the workshop. A pang of oil hits his nose and he instinctively covers his nose. He could smell the oil from a mile away, stuck on Mr. Mizuno and the shop as a whole, but the concentration here is greater than ever. Even after all his years of dropping by, Kaze can't get used to all the metal.

He sees two pairs of feet sticking out from under a car. Adjusting his hand, it turns into a megaphone. "Father? Saizou? Is that you?"

Nothing. A creak. Then someone wheels themselves into sight. Red hair but violet eyes; it's his father. Saizou Senior looks at him with steel, tempered fire cooled every so slightly by its hue. "Kaze," he says, though he makes no move. At the name, the other pair of feet twitches ever so slightly. "What are you doing here?"

What a blunt man. Two could play that game. "You forgot your food at home."

His father grunts, going back to work. The smell of oil is nauseous, much different from their garden's flowers. Kaze's head spins. "I told your mother we'd buy for ourselves."

"She wants to make sure you eat." An empty container is better evidence than words that hate worry. Besides, Fujiko's cooking is better than fast food. Why not eat it? "She sent me to give you lunch."

A growl. Squeak of a wrench. "That woman... Leave it by the door. Anything else, boy?"

'You could look at me when you talk.' "No."

He doesn't leave.

Squeak.

Wait.

Squeak.

Wait.

Stop.

Wait.

Sigh. "Saizou, go take your break and eat with your brother. But no more than fifteen, do you hear?"

"...Yes, Father." And as if he's been waiting for the order, Saizou slides out, stands, wipes his palms on the dirt rag, and approaches Kaze, all in an orderly fashion. One quick look at the lunch, and Kaze realizes his twin is hungry.

He raises a brow. "Wash your hands first."

Saizou rolls his eyes. And yet he pushes past Kaze into one of the side corridors. "I was going to the bathroom anyway."

"I'll be waiting in the staff room!"

He raises a hand and walks around the corner, "yeah, yeah" trailing behind him as he disappears.


Although the office shows its age, the rattiest things are the cushions, having been worn down by years of use. The rest of the room is well-maintained—the walls don't crack, the floor's clean and shone. There are a couple of plants at the corners, yellowing a rarity. Sun strews through the windows, past the slits of the blinds, to hit the leaves with as much appropriate light as someone with no experience in gardening would apply.

Taking a seat, he sets up the table: a bentou at each end, chopsticks on top, a napkin to the side. The only thing that's missing is water, but as an oversight on his part, he's got no right to complain.

It doesn't take long for Saizou to appear. With a water bottle in one hand and a can of green tea in the other, Kaze thanks his brother as Saizou takes the opposite chair.

"Let's eat," Kaze says.

"Thanks for the food," Saizou mutters.

Chopsticks breaking, plastic snapping, they dig in. Then it's silence.

It's bearable, just messy. Saizou keeps it quiet, which isn't bad by itself, but add guarded and tense and it isn't the friendliest of atmospheres. Small talk passes through their lips yet food does even more. Words are curt and to the point. Grunts are common. Cans speak louder than them. With Saizou, conversation is a luxury. Shovelling food is the norm.

But Kaze's used to it. Watching the clock tick, he asks, "What time are you and Father coming back home?"

Saizou shrugs and takes a swig of his water. The plastic crushes under his grip—a display of strength not entirely on purpose—as he says, "No clue."

"At least make it for dinner. Mother was moody by your absence yesterday."

Saizou grumbles. Another swig. "She's always moody. Better your company than mine."

Hm, something's a bit burnt. Picking on his vegetables, Kaze peels off charred skin. A slip to his mother's cooking; it's an impressive feat by its own. "How's Kagerou?" he says.

"Dunno. Haven't seen her in a while."

Kaze blinks. "Any particular reason?"

His brother narrows his eyes. "She didn't tell you?" When Kaze shakes his head, Saizou stares. "Her family's on vacation. They'll be back next week."

"Ah. I see." He doesn't let it get to him, stores the information away as if they were talking about the weather. Personal matters and Kagerou don't mix well; not with Kaze at least. "That explains why I haven't seen her father around. Where did they go?

Saizou shrugs. The conversation falls flat, buried under silence and food. Kaze tries again. "And what about Orochi? How is she doing?"

"How would I know?" Saizou mutters, eyes narrowed and neck rigid—guarded fear. "You talk to her more than me."

'Not true.'

Saizou, mistaking contemplation for hesitation, eats more and talks less. But Kaze hasn't run out of things to say. Roundabout answers and indirect replies may lose his appetite for conversation, but it doesn't mean he won't bite. "You should still go see her. She won't say it out loud, but I think she misses your visits."

"Hmph." Nose wrinkle. Eye twitch. More in exasperation than anything. "The day that snake admits it is the day hell freezes over."

A downfall from prying would be a pitiful death. Kaze smiles ruefully. "If you say so."

One final grunt. Back to silence.

In fifteen minutes, Kaze's lunch is almost done. Saizou's is finished. His chair screeches back, his chopsticks go into the box, and the box goes back into the bag. Water bottle crushed completely, plastic squeals as it's dumped in the garbage. Kaze, unfazed, lets his brother leave without so much a goodbye. But when Saizou's voice carries out by the doorway, when he looks back and speaks so low that the words can barely be made out, Kaze listens.

"Next time you see her-" He has that steeled gaze so much like their father's. "-you can tell her I'll drop by before the break ends."

"Then if you visit before I do?"

And though he may say they share no similarities, that smirk is completely Fujiko's. "Then she's in for a surprise."


The rest of the day is a whirlwind, a chain of errands his mother forces on him as he leaves his father's shop. From flower deliveries (for opposite sides of town, no less; Mrs. Ueno and Mr. Hayashi couldn't live closer to each other, could they?) to a trip back to his father before a bit of grocery shopping, he's got more things in his basket by the time he's done than when he started. Bread and fruits nestle beside empty containers as close as they can without bruising. Kaze thinks it's one of his mother's grand schemes again, stealing the Saizous' money 'for dinner' and willing them to come home. He'd call it smart if he didn't have to take the brunt of his father's irritation.

Walking beside his bike—for a change of pace; no need to rush home now, he supposes—Kaze finds the afternoon air a pleasing oxymoron: skies interweave with sunset, everything contrasting yet nothing clashing. A perfect balance of each shade and hue. Hints of clouds had formed throughout the day, darkness hiding behind white wisps, and Kaze takes in the breeze. Cool, it's almost night.

Bike wheels stroll through the sidewalk. An amiable pace, much like the mood. It's down time for him—relaxation amongst the events of today—that he almost closes his eyes to take it all in.

...Almost.

"Hey, Kaze! Greenie!" Sharp, loud, almost squeaky. Only person ever calls him that. "Is that you over there?"

Snapping his attention to the right, the fruits bump into each other in surprise. Sure enough, the Ohara kids are on the opposite sidewalk. Kamui's waving wildly. Corrin's embarrassed by her antics. Lilith is smiling but the girl beside her is not. A fourth person he's never seen before, with skies for hair that spans as a braid down her back, and a midday sun for a dress down her knees.

He holds back a laugh; she's like the morning.

Is that Azura?

She must be.

From a distance, Kamui yells. "What's up, Kaze?" The birds fly. "I haven't seen you in a while! How are you doing?"

Corrin tugs on her shirt, mutters something under his breath. "Oh," she says, quieter, still loud. "Not really. I don't think so."

Corrin mutters again.

"Pfft. Chillax! Nobody's going to kill us because of some noise-"

Furious whispering.

"Well, okay, if you put it that way..."

Eager to stop their argument, her brother tugs her across the street and signals for Lilith to follow. In return, Lilith tugs Azura—Kaze's pretty sure that's Azura—and together, they move in an awkward pace to where he is.

But four people don't fit the sidewalk. Shuffling aside, Kaze and bike hit grass. He stands beside Azura, noting just how long her hair is. It sprawls down to mid-thigh even if tied up and shortened. The tips touch the back of her dress, stopping a mere inch higher. Impressed by its length, it's unlike anything he's seen before. Sure, Ryouma has plenty. But bunched together, his looks rough, layered in different sizes. Hers is a smooth waterfall.

"Anyway-" Kaze snaps out of his reverie. "-what did you do today? Deliveries around the block?"

"You could say that," he answers. Motioning to his bags, the answer's in front of their eyes. "Family errands."

"Cool! Kinda boring, but cool. As for me, we were giving our cousin a tour."

It was Azura.

A quick glance to the side. She's still nonchalant. The birds and branches do their best to mask the silence; at least Kamui's there to fill in the gaps. "So, Azura, this is Suzukaze. Also known as 'Kaze' if you're too lazy to say his full name. But I like to call him 'Greenie' because that's what he is. See his hair?" Lilith giggles. Kamui grins. Corrin sighs. "He's our next, next, next, next, next...next-door neighbour. He's a nice guy, so be good to him, okie dokie?"

"Okay."

Ah, that's how her voice sounds: high, melodic, easy on the ears. A bit accented, but quite calming nonetheless. "I've heard a lot about you, Azura," he tells her. "It's a pleasure to finally meet."

"Yes. Good afternoon to you too." Slow and muttered. Just enough for propriety.

Corrin doesn't look irked, but his tone is snappy and rough—Kaze hears it when no one else can. A mix of lethargy and annoyance, he supposes, having been dragged around for the whole day. A homebody surrounded for hours by three girls is never a good combination; Kaze had travel time to himself, at least. "Now that everyone's acquainted, may we go home?"

"Now, now, Brother dear, no need to rush us." But sensing his mood, Kamui's lips slant down. "Although yeah, it's getting kinda late. We've been out for a long time..."

"Brother and I can go on ahead," Lilith suggests, ever the polite compromise. "And if you'd like, Sister, you can stay with Kaze for a while." A pause. Then, as an afterthought: "Azura, do you want to come with us?"

If there's one thing Lilith did wrong, it's giving the girl a choice. She's visibly uncomfortable with choosing sides. The oldest Ohara speaks for her. "Hey, hey, don't leave me with this guy! You're setting me up for blackmail, aren't you?"

"What? Whatever do you mean, Sister?"

"Oh bother. Tell you what, you go on ahead with Corrin and tell the others we'll be back soon, and Azura and I'll be here to talk to Kaze boy. Not a bad deal, yeah?" Lilith nods. "Alright! Thanks, Lil Bean! I might forgive you yet." Turning to him, she says, "Kaze, you up for walking two ladies home after office hours?"

He exchanges glances with Corrin—'It's more trouble than you think'—Azura—blank and silent—and Kamui. And with Kamui, there's a sense of urgency that says: "Stay. You're not leaving. That is an order, soldier." As if he never had a choice.

Mr. Keicho rings in his ear.

...But who was he to refuse?

"Sure, I'm up for it." A bitten-back groan. A half-frown. Woe to free will, he wryly thinks. Death to decision-making.

Kamui's the only one who seems pleased. Although really, her opinion's the only one that counts. "Great! I've got a looot of stuff to tell you. So, Cory, Lil, I think we'll be back for dinner. Make sure not to eat without us..."

With last minute instructions, Kamui sends her siblings away. Lilith bows, waves and skips down the sidewalk. Corrin, on the other hand, quirks an eyebrow at Kaze. He shakes his head as he follows his sister. There'll be questions to answer at a future time, he's sure of it. Little Corrin with his problematic 'not-knowing' and best friend status. Kaze's been bound to it forever; as if it'd stop anytime soon.

But he has more pressing priorities at hand. Back to the morning sun and sky, he repeats the pleasantries he said to Ryuurei, "What do you think of the neighbourhood so far, Azura?" Unlike her father, unlike her clothes, she's a mulling storm that darkens the mood; soaks everything in and refuses to let go. Like she'd burst any moment. Like she's waiting for the right moment to rain.

Azura shrugs. In that long-drawn way of hers, she says, "It's pretty."

And that's that.

Kamui fills in the gaps. "A lot of flowers here can't be seen on Vallite streets. Different vegetation, you know? Or whatever the term is. It's apparently cleaner too, although that's kinda expected since Azura lived downtown and all."

"I see." He's curious to know what she did to get those answers. "Well, I assure you that you'll like it here."

Azura nods. Again, the conversation turns stagnant.

"Plus," Kamui starts seconds later, "we met up with a bunch of people earlier, like Hana and Hinata on their way to kendo. And Tsubaki was running errands, just like you." She giggles. "Did you know Nishiki got a job?"

"Oh? Where at?"

"The pet shop!" A cackle as if Kaze should've known. Turning to her cousin, she adds, "Say, how'd you think of him, by the way? Super nice? Seems like a popular dude?"

Staring at the ground, Azura's hair falls over her face. Her shoulders twitch, as if she wants to hunch over but wants to keep up appearances. "Yes."

"Yeah! Nishiki's weird like that, able to draw people's attention without reason. He's a ball of sunshine, all smiles and laughter. If you like animals, then you'd definitely get along well with him! Do you like animals, Azura?"

Put on the spot, she shuffles. Kamui's going a bit too far. If this was how she got answers, she was doing it all wrong. "Dogs are nice," he says. The girls look over. One's confused but the other's relieved; relaxed jaw, slack shoulders. He smiles warmly. "Especially Akita-inus," he adds. "They're cute."

Succinct and to the point and yet the attention is drawn to him. Azura struggles to find the words. But when she does, her cousin has to hold in her glee. "What are those?" she asks.

"They're big dogs with fluffy fur." The description lights her eyes. "And they have triangle ears, and puffy tails that curl inward." It doesn't seem to ring a bell, but Azura's excitement isn't deterred. So she does like animals.

Kamui snorts. "Your definition of 'cute' is leagues different from mine, bucko." She glances at Azura. "But they are. I guess. If you think so."

"There are a couple in the pet shop," Kaze continues. "If we ever catch a glimpse of them, I'll point them out."

Azura nods. But instead of stiff movement, her head bobs in fervor. She doesn't talk; the gratitude translates nonetheless. 'Thank you,' her eyes say. They open up in welcome, and he takes his shoes off before stepping in.

"But let's walk for now," he tells them, after he thanks Azura back and marvels at her abode. "The others will worry if the both of you are gone for long." He laughs. "And I'll be the one that gets into trouble."

So they do, in a line, with Azura in the middle and Kaze to the road. Grass tickles the bottom of his shoes and coats bike wheels with stains. The ground digs underneath him, a familiar feeling from helping his mother tend to the garden.

"Akita-inus, huh?" Kamui muses. A lighted grin's on her lips. "I never pegged you as the type. I've known you for, like, forever, but you're always full of surprises. Just how much do you have up your sleeve, Greenie?"

"Who knows?" Plenty, actually, but it wasn't like he'd give them up. Mystery is class. He's learned from Fujiko. "What else is on your mind?"

"A lot of things, to be honest." Then she swings her hands behind her. A nervous tick, unique to Kamui, equipped with side glances to her cousin. "Like, well, you know, i'd like it if-" She stops. Bites her lip. "-I mean...nevermind."

It's one thing to be considerate, but it's another thing to be subtle. Kamui wears her heart on her sleeve, emotions running head to toe in movements so big and obvious. It's a good trait, sometimes. Shows how honest, genuine, she is. She gains trust with a mix of comfort and pity.

Like the dogs opened her up—or perhaps Kamui did; it's hard to tell—Azura says, "It'd be nice if...our classes are the same." Then she smiles for reassurance. Although she can't see him, Kaze does too.

Kamui beams. "Y-yeah! That'd be awesome!" she says. "You know, one of my best friends is in my homeroom, so if you're there too then it'd be triple the fun. And—oh. Ohhh gods. I almost—Kaze! Did you know Felicia likes someone?"

He blinks. "No."

"Yes!"

"Who?"

"I dunno! But Felicia clammed up after spilling it so I think it's been happening for a while. But I don't really know, you know? You have to ask her for me! Maybe she'll tell you herself. Oh, and yes, Azura, this Felicia's bestie number one. She's a bit clumsy, but she's extraordinarily hardworking and cute..."

As Kamui babbles on, Kaze hears things he's never heard of until today. "Takumi got a haircut (he used to have hair as long as you, Azura. Remind me to show you some pictures of him later)," "Sakura (that's his sister) won a koto competition (it's an instrument. I don't know how to describe it, so let's search it up later)," "Lilith's getting braces next week. She won't say it out loud, but I think she's terrified of it;" Kaze's only news is how Kagerou is on vacation, and even then, there's not much to say.

The barest of details is enough to satisfy. "My father and brother work at an auto shop," he explains, more to Azura than Kamui. Kamui already knows all of this. "And Kagerou's father works in the same place. You could say we were raised together by a group of mechanics."

'You could also say we're childhood friends. Although that applies more to Saizou and Kagerou.'

"So if you think something's wrong with your automobiiile-" Kamui's voice, though not the best in singing, drawls in anticipation. "-then you know just the guy that you have to go see! He fixes your tires, and fixes loose wires, and boy, would you know? He'll do it for free!"

"A discount, she means," Kaze adds.

"Ten percent please!" She pauses, mock sheepish. "And thank you, good sir, I can pay for that fee."

Azura, who did her best holding it in, bursts out in giggles. Ring, ringing, it floats to the clouds like vapour on a sunny day. Kamui and Kaze exchange looks. Then they laugh together.

They continue like that all the way home: jokes and whatnot and nothing pushy at all, just words you'll forget but stick an impression to your head. With Azura's frequent smiles, Kaze thinks he did a job well done.

When they reach the Ohara's, Kamui chirps, "Well! We're finally here. Safe and totally sound. Thanks, Kaze. Hope we didn't bug you much."

"Not at all."

"Ohohoho! Then we should call on you to walk us home more often." To her cousin: "Come on, let's go in. I don't know about you but I'm starving."

Azura glances at Kaze, who tells her, "My house is a bit past here." He points to it, on the other side of the road. Kamui's on the front porch knocking. "Just a minute away, six down the street."

"Next-door neighbour," she whispers.

He nods. "Next-door neighbour." Then, in her same whisper, "Don't be afraid to knock on the door, alright?"

Eyes widening, Kamui comes back for her and whisks her away. Kaze watches them as a breeze flies by—cooler than the last—and his hands hold the handlebars tight. The door swings open and Kamui doesn't look back ("Hey! Corrin! We're home! Did ya miss us?"), but Azura's gaze turns over her shoulder.

Kaze stares at azure hair and yellow dresses, sun and sky hiding as sunset takes their place. He feels the incoming chill of the night, feels the dirt under his feet, feels his palms burning. He smells cold air as it fills the surroundings, and yet he doesn't know what she thinks of him.

But he doesn't need to. So he smiles.

After a moment, she smiles back.

The door shuts quietly.