Chapter Text
“You're under my tree.”
Sharing recess with the older kids had never proved to be a problem for Mizuki until now. Most of the glares and nasty comments she received were from kids in her own class, but this, she thinks to herself, propped against roots and foliage, weeds tickling at her ankles. This is new.
A girl towers over her with stubby, brown pigtails that just brush the pink shoulders of her long-sleeved shirt. She stares, grumbling something about the “younger kids” having “no manners,” raises an eyebrow expectantly. Mizuki can only try to shrink further into herself, clutching the frills of her top like it might call her sister to help in this moment.
“I—I'm sorry,” she babbles through a sniffle. “I had a… a really bad day.”
Squeezing her eyes shut, feeling another warm tear trail down her cheek, she braces for what the girl might say to her—what she knows everyone else already thinks of her.
What she fails to prepare for is a softly breathed “oh,” and the crinkling, dry sound of grass rustling. When she opens her eyes again, the girl is sat in front of her, much smaller than she seemed just a moment ago.
“I didn't mean to make you sad.”
“It wasn’t you.”
“Oh. Okay. Wanna play house with me?”
Truthfully, Mizuki isn't particularly in the mood for house, but she's not exactly keen on upsetting this girl any more than she has either.
“Sure.”
Any apprehension she might have had fades when the girl announces, “I'll be the dad today. You can be the mom.”
Because this girl, even if unknowingly, understands her.
Mizuki doesn't ask, but is granted explanation anyway as the girl pushes herself back onto her feet. “Normally, I make my brother the dad but he ate the last pancake this morning, so I'm mad at him.”
She nods along like it makes any kind of sense to her. It does not. There's no grace period for thought before a hand is shoved in her face, more of a demand than a suggestion.
“I'm Ena. We're friends now.”
She lets her gaze drag between the deathly-serious look on Ena's face and her outstretched hand. Swatting at the urge to hesitate, pestering her in her mind, she takes what is offered to her and allows herself to be hoisted up.
Standing at her full height, it dawns upon her, just how much smaller Ena is. From here, Mizuki has a full, proper view of her brunette hair. She can barely stifle the giggle that buzzes past her pursed lips.
“You said you're older, right?” Mizuki asks, to which the top of her brown head bobs. “Ena's so tiny for a girl who's already eight!”
The same soft palm that had so gently lifted her off the floor moments ago now knocks lightly against her forehead in warning.
“You're supposed to tell me your name, dummy,” Ena laughs in a poor attempt at acting unamused.
“Ah,” she stutters. “Uh—Mizuki. Mizuki Akiyama.”
“That's too long. I'll call you Mizuki.”
Ena, she's realizing, is… quite assertive. As if to prove her point, Ena grabs hold of her hand again, intertwines their fingers, and starts leading her away from her lonely spot beneath the old oak tree.
“Let's go find my brother. He'll be the dog today because dogs can't eat pancakes. I'm gonna be a painter and you're my wife,” declares Ena.
It takes Mizuki a moment to find her voice, before she squeaks something like, “Could I be a clothing designer?”
She flinches when Ena stops walking and looks at her with familiar scrutiny in her eyes. Mizuki knows that look. She's given a once-over before Ena's shoulders slacken and she sighs. The crease of her brow smoothes over and Mizuki releases a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
“Fine. Only because you have cute clothes on and it makes sense,” Ena grumbles, her feet dragging against concrete as she begins to walk again. “But if you keep changing the story you'll make me mad. And if you make me mad too, there's gonna be two pets and no mom. Got it?”
Despite the cold nature of her statement, Mizuki feels a new warmth run through her heart and into her veins. She feels wanted.
Mizuki hopes she and Ena can play house for a long time.