Author's Notes: Thank you, to everyone who reviewed the first piece! When they're short like this, I feel unsure about posting them at all. Thanks for the encouragement!

Tend Thy Own Garden

Dusk was falling slowly upon a quiet little street, in a quiet little neighborhood. Shadows lengthened and stretched across unremarkable houses, most of which were small and cookie-cut to fit within the tiny plots of land. Men and women, retiring home from their days of work and shopping, would make their way by an ordinary mail center that listed that Sakura Street's residents by name. Takata, Ando, Uchida, Minamino. A name for every box, a house for every family.

Within sight of the mail boxes, and some would say within sight of everything that happened on this street, was a quaint little porch with comfortable chairs worn with years of use. A woman with graying hair sat on her favorite rocker, tapping back and forth with gentle familiarity as sharp eyes took in the sights that she had been calling home for over forty years. Mrs. Sato watched as Mr. Matsumoto cut his grass in the cool of the early evening. Her eyes followed the little girl from the Okada household as she ran down the sidewalk carrying a school project that looked bent and jostled from the trip home.

"Are you feeling any better, Mrs. Sato?" A woman, perhaps fifteen years her junior, made herself comfortable in the next chair over. She was greeted with a smile and a nod, followed by a cough that rattled the older woman's chest.

"Oh, I'm doing well enough so long as the doctors don't give me medicine that does more harm than good! I feel better with a friend by my side, though. Oh, Rina. Thank you for visiting an old lady who has nothing better to do than drink tea and bid farewell to the sun."

Two sets of eyes watched as the front door of the Minamino house opened, a young Shuichi making the short trip to check the day's mail.

"Oh, pish posh! You know that I enjoy your company." The two women shared a smile and sat in silence for a moment, then Mrs. Sato cleared her throat before speaking. "There's something strange about that boy."

Rina nodded in agreement, both watching as the Minamino mail was shuffled in small pale hands. "Mm. Strange, indeed."

The older woman coughed again, pulling the cotton shawl around her shoulders more tightly. "He never has any friends over. Have you ever seen other children around that house?" Her guest shook her head as Shuichi walked back toward his own home. "No, not at all."

Mrs. Sato frowned, making the wrinkles in her face deepen as if the action were second nature. "Strange, isn't it?" Green eyes glanced toward their porch briefly, before continuing down his own walkway. The women knew that they could not be heard from the road, so there was no hesitation in the reply. Rina agreed with a nod of her head. "Oh, yes. A little boy without any friends or playmates? It's not right."

The elder of the two shifted in her seat, her brown eyes losing focus as she thought aloud. "She says that he's twelve. The way he follows behind her, though? Carrying the groceries and weeding the garden, never leaving her side and not even glancing down the street at the other children playing ball. Not like any twelve year old I know."

The other woman nodded, making herself comfortable as she listened to the evening gossip. "Hm, no, not at all." She knew that there would be more, and Mrs. Sato did not disappoint.

"And that hair! Letting someone so young do that to themselves. It just encourages that antisocial behavior."

Rina quirked an eyebrow, prompting the other woman. "You don't think it's natural?" This was met with a loud scoffing noise that quickly turned into yet another rattling cough. Once settled and breathing evenly, Mrs. Sato leveled her voice into a sound of authority on the subject. "Oh, certainly not. With the mother's own dark hair?"

She shook her head and clicked her tongue, but the younger woman voiced a suggestion. "The father may have been an immigrant. Ireland or Scotland, perhaps. They have shocking hair colors over there."

Mrs. Sato's frown faded at the idea, but her voice reflected the condescension still in her thoughts. "It wouldn't surprise me. A young woman living alone with such an odd child? The father probably left just as soon as he could. Caught the first boat back to wherever he came from to get out of that situation."

Rina tried to fight off the grin of amusement, her own voice thick with false compliments. "Hm. The mother seems nice enough, and she's lovely to look at. But it is strange."

The veiled attempt at playing devil's advocate was enough to make the older woman scoff again, the resulting coughs still not enough to cover the disdain in her next words. "What kind of woman has a child without a husband, and then isn't a fit enough mother to see that something's wrong with the boy?"

Both women jumped in their seats, startled and clutching at their chests when a young voice replied, "The kind of woman who takes an hour out of her busy day and food from her lean pantry to simmer a soup for her sick neighbor." Two pairs of eyes, wide with surprise, looked over to find a young red haired boy standing at the side of the porch as if it were the most natural place to be. The women glanced at one another, neither having seen the boy leave his house or enter their yard. The shame and embarrassment of being caught in their words kept them speechless as Shuichi handed over a bowl, heavy with soup. "Say what you will about me, I have no concern for your opinion. But do not speak of my mother that way."

The solemn face shifted, hiding behind a great big smile as if someone had learned to make a light switch out of a child. Eyes were politely blank, teeth bared in the abandoned grin of youth. This, more than the abrupt appearance, unsettled the two women most of all. The happy little boy would have been believable if they had not just seen such displeasure only moments before. His voice was light, not at all the mature tenor that it had been. "As a matter of fact, perhaps you should just refrain from talking about her at all. That may be best."

He had already turned to leave before they could compute enough to nod. He walked down the sidewalk, across the street, and into the Minamino home without so much as a backward glance.

From that day forward, any rumors about the single mother and her strange little boy on Sakura Street were spoken only in hushed tones, behind closed doors.