Ayame sits behind the counter, her legs swinging off the ground.
Another day, another moment of boredom. In addition to bread, it seems Otter Seal Bakery sells coffee.
Ayame remembers jumping at the prospect of finally being allowed to use the big fancy machine next to the cash register. It comes to her like breathing but Ayame often has her hair flapping around to disperse the lingering scent of caffeine.
To her frustration, it seems making the pattern displayed on the front of the shop posed a much bigger challenge.
Ayame engages in a tense stare-down with the misshapen white otter floating on the surface of the coffee. Her father joked that morning that it resembled one of her erasers.
Ayame rolls her eyes at the thought before the otter disappears down her throat. The only consolation is that the brown murky liquid tastes better than it looks.
A beeping comes from her wrist, causing her to look down. Ayame's eyes widen at her watch as she flies into a green apron. The straps flap against her waist as Ayame dips the tips of her hair in disinfectant and pulls rubber gloves over them.
Her eyes scan the floor for dirt, her hair wrapping around a broom before sweeping away the offending stain.
Her mother and sister return from the market before the morning crowd pours in. Ayame is allowed to retreat to one of the tables but not to take off her apron, lest an extra pair of hands be needed.
Her homework remains packed and complete in her bag, giving Ayame the liberty of using her phone. Her fingers fly across the screen as she enters a familiar webpage. They idly scroll down to the bottom before Ayame sees a red dress draped over a mannequin.
It is her first time seeing it online but not her first time in real life. The whirring from the sewing machine in Ayaka's room went on late into the night. And just as Ayame stripped down in the bathroom, she saw Ayaka hovering around her latest work, snapping photos as she did.
Click. Click.
Ayame's ears twitch as her head swivels around the bakery for the source. Their patrons are mostly seated, engaging in their affairs. Yet the man at the next table is unfamiliar to her. Ayame does not recognise his sharp nose or his blue rounded eyes. Red eyes continue to observe the man, taking stock of his every movement.
Otter Seal Bakery sees plenty of new patrons. Perhaps he just moved into the area and was smitten with their products.
That hypothesis is rejected when Ayame notices he is the only one who constantly glances at the counter. Alarm bells go off when sunlight bounces off the camera in his hand into her face. When the man stands up, he walks to the entrance before returning to his seat.
There is a brief interval where he faces the counter where Ayaka is making coffee. That is when Ayame hears the click again and knows she can no longer stay silent. Her palms slam against the table and she jumps to her feet. A hooked finger points at the man as she shouts,
"What do you think you're doing!" Her shouting causes everyone to turn in their direction. The man shrinks back, but Ayame appears directly in front of him. Her mother barely has time to gasp before Ayame slams his hand onto the counter, forcing his fingers open to reveal the black camera in his palm.
"Ayame! Wha—" Her mother's cheeks flush red but before she musters a scolding, Ayame passes the camera, an accusatory finger still trained on the man. Her other hand wipes itself on the back of her shirt, slick with his sweat, as if it were swamp slime.
"He is taking pictures of you and Ayaka-nee!" The room falls into silence as the man turns a sickly pale. Her mother glares at Ayame before handing the camera back to the man. Her palms press together in apology as she requests the man to let her see the photos for verification. Behind a forced smile, she adds that if Ayame is in the wrong, his tab is void and she will be severely punished.
The man doesn't comply. His face turns red down to his neck as he rips the camera out of her mother's hands. As he yells at the crowd gathered around him, specks of froth fly from his mouth.
"The public has a right to know what its heroes are up to! All I did was take a few pictures."
The man's admission is vindicating and infuriating. Ayame's eyes almost glow red with anger and her hair starts to flail around. Before she can stop herself, the words fly through her mouth in reflex.
"She's retired! And in case you didn't hear, fucktard, she requested that the public leave her to recover!"
"That's enough!" Ayame stiffens upon hearing her mother bark at her. Her mother's body shakes and her pink eyes boil with rage.
She steps out from behind the counter to grab the man by the collar. Her hair grows to the corner where the man was seated, gathering his belongings into a jet-black net.
Her mother is deceivingly strong. With a single hand, she lifts the man, easily four inches taller above the ground, and carries him out of the shop. A free hand flings open the door, and the man is tossed out with his belongings.
With the disturbance now gone, the rest of the patrons return to their matters, leaving the sisters with their mother. Ayaka carries a haunted look on her face, as she downs yet another cup of coffee. Ayame, on the other hand, stays still as her mother untangles her hair from her apron strings, knowing full well the lecture she is in for once her mother gets up.