📖 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙾𝙽𝙴 * 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔑𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔈𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔉𝔯𝔬𝔷𝔢
Snow had buried the mountain path long before midnight. By now the world beyond the house was little more than shifting white and the dark silhouettes of pine trees bending beneath the storm. Wind hissed softly against the wooden walls, slipping through old cracks with thin cold fingers that carried the scent of ice and cedar.
Inside, however, everything glowed warm. The fire crackled low in the hearth. Steam drifted lazily from a crooked pot hanging above the flames, filling the tiny house with the smell of rice and broth. Melted snow dripped quietly near the doorway where two pairs of sandals had been abandoned hours ago. Tsukihana Fuyumi sat cross-legged near the fire, squinting in concentration as she attempted to repair a tear in one of her sleeves. The attempt was not going well.
"...Why does it look worse?"
Across from her, her older sister laughed softly into her bowl.
"Because you're sewing the fabric to itself."
Fuyumi blinked. Looked down. Paused.
"...That explains a lot."
Another laugh. Warmer this time. The sound filled the little house so naturally that Fuyumi barely noticed herself smiling back. Her sister reached over the table, gently pulling the sleeve from Fuyumi's hands before the damage could become irreversible.
"You're supposed to guide the thread carefully," she said. "Not attack it."
"I wasn't attacking it."
"You were absolutely attacking it."
Fuyumi frowned in fake offense.
"I think you're being biased."
"I think the sleeve is begging for mercy."
"That's dramatic."
"Says the girl who declared war on cloth."
Fuyumi snorted quietly under her breath. The fire popped. Outside, snow continued falling in heavy silence. For a while neither of them spoke. Not because anything was wrong. Just because they were used to quiet. Fuyumi liked quiet evenings.
She liked the sound of simmering soup. The warmth pressing against her cheeks after coming in from the cold. The sleepy heaviness settling into the house as night deepened around them. It made the world feel small. Safe. Her sister tied off the repaired sleeve with a triumphant nod and handed it back.
"There. Fixed."
Fuyumi inspected it carefully.
"...It still looks crooked."
"That's because your arm somehow bends every piece of clothing you own."
"That doesn't even make sense."
"And yet."
Fuyumi pulled the sleeve back on anyway. It was warm from her sister's hands. Something eased quietly in her chest. Her sister noticed the scrape on Fuyumi's knuckles a moment later.
"...What happened to your hand?"
Fuyumi immediately tucked it beneath her sleeve.
"Nothing."
"That is very obviously not nothing."
"I fell earlier."
"You 'fell earlier'?"
"...Off a tree."
