Ibuki reached down to Mikan, straight-armed, chin upturned, and saw things like they were kids - Mikan, having scraped her knee, or had her sandcastle kicked into her face by jerk boys in class; herself, the hero - the bully-fighter.
...'Cept it was weirder. Messier.
None of 'em were kids. Hiyoko was kinda just like that. Teruteru was kinda just like that.
It made her job simpler, she guessed - and she liked that.
Made it one-on-one - duet-time.
Mikan seemed to like that.
She hauled Mikan up, and Mikan fell against her, tearstained face smiling, muttering thank-yous.
Ibuki held her; laughed, "No problemo...!"