When we got home and parked, Aunt Cass still didn't speak. It was horrendously unnerving, made even worse by the fact that Tadashi and Hiro were sitting at the table waiting for us. Nothing was on the table, so I knew it was either an intervention or a confrontation. I noticed Hiro sitting on his hands.

"We need to talk," Aunt Cass repeated. She gestured for me to sit down, which I did hesitantly. Tadashi had his phone out and plugged in to charge.

Tadashi grabbed the cord from the wall plug-in and hooked it up to the computer in his and Hiro's room, syncing his phone with the device. A series of videos were edited together, so when he clicked them, they popped up in a video screen, with Tadashi filming my daily routine, starting from 6 AM. He'd apparently been filming me since about two minutes after I got up, which reminded me of how tired I was. Then George came on the screen.

"Hey there, handsome. What's a fine thing like you doing here?" he drawled. I couldn't help but grin. I snuck a glance at Tadashi, who was blushing to the tips of his toes, a treat in and of itself.

"I was just wondering what you know about my sister, Sakura Hamada, and her trip here today?" Tadashi said off-camera.

"Whell," he said in a flirtatious voice that I'd never heard before. "Sakura, your sister, has been helping out Mrs. Wiggins since she and her husband ran into her with their car. Not hard, mind you, but just hard enough to shake her up a bit." I felt Aunt Cass' hand touch my shoulder gently, and tears sprang to my eyes. It was the first time in a long time that my family had shown me any affection. "She's been bringing Mrs. Wiggins here every Saturday since her husband, Lennie, died three years ago. Poor Mrs. Wiggins has Alzheimers, so Sakura's all she remembers. She's starting to forget things, is Mrs. Wiggins. Doctors say she doesn't have a whole lot of time left. Now enough about me, what about you, sweetheart."

"Okay, I think we're done here. Thanks for your help. One last question: do you know where Sakura goes after she leaves here?" Tadashi said quickly, taking a step back.

"She only leaves here with a big bag of groceries, but she stops by to say hi before heading East along this road," George said, tone slightly wounded.

"What's East of here?" Tadashi asked.

"Well at the end of the street is a big, green dog park, y'know the one with the agility course?" The camera shook slightly as if the cameraman was nodding vigorously. "Between here and there is a bunch of stores, a couple apartments, the Sunny Days Food Bank, and the pound."

"Okay, thank you, Mr. Jiamani," Tadashi said, obviously trying to leave.

"Call me George, babe, everyone does!" I snickered when Tadashi cleared his throat in the room. Hiro giggled a bit, hands shoved deep in his pockets. My brother bid George adieu and left, following on-screen me from a distance, occasionally raising it to just above head-height to keep following me. It swayed a fair bit before spotting me going into the Food Bank. Then the video cut to Berty, the main donations accepter at the food bank.

"Oh yes, I know Sakura. You just missed her," she said, pointing East again. "She drops off a big delivery every Saturday. Not sure where she gets the money to buy the food, but it sure has helped a lot of families in need, even a few of the millions of homeless!"

A few more questions followed, then the camera cut to another street-shot of me practically skipping to the pound. Tadashi followed me inside with the camera still rolling. I came zipping by him on my roller blades and grabbed the leashes from the hooks. A brief increase in the barking followed by my shout of "That's enough!" instantly stopped the noise. Tadashi approached the front desk.

"Hello, sir, welcome to Second Chance Animal Rescue, are you looking to adopt, volunteer, or interview?" said Martha. I smiled fondly.

"I've just got a few questions about one of your volunteers, uh, Sakura Hamada?" my brother said.

"What's this about?" she asked suspiciously. "How do you know Sakura?"

"She's my sister. I just have a couple questions," he reiterated.

"Oh, okay. What are your questions?" she asked.

"How long has my sister been volunteering here?" he asked.

"About four years. She comes in, signs her sheet, puts on her rollerblades, which she got recently," Martha said. "The real mystery we have is where she puts all the poop those dogs are sure to create!" They shared a laugh with the other staff that were within earshot.

"Okay, so next question," he said, calming down. There was still the hint of a smile in his voice. "Is she paid for her time here, or is it strictly volunteer?"

"It's strictly volunteer. Here, look at her sheet. It's full already, so she's going to need a new one," Martha said, showing Tadashi my volunteer sheet which had a consistent "3 hrs" written down in one column, and a steady 20 in another titled "Number of Dogs." The camera panned slowly down the sheet, picking up my signature and Martha's under "Volunteer's Signature" and "Supervisor's Signature." "Since she began volunteering here fourteen dogs have been adopted in the past three months. That's ten more than any other volunteer. Your sister has helped a lot of the dogs here. They respect her, and she's helped bring out the kind, gentle dog in even the most damaged."

He thanked her and left, following me as best he could on foot. He spotted me stooping over to pick up a pile of dog poop then put it in the machine, pause a moment, then grab the money that came out. As on-screen me stuck the money in my bags, Hiro's expression turned from slightly amused respect to utter disgust. He pulled out his hands which were covered in the dye, which had turned his hands blue, and stared at them in revoltion. I laughed a belly laugh I hadn't in a while, which Tadashi, after a moment of confusion of looking at Hiro's hands and his face, joined me in.