Kazutora felt the cold surface of the wooden floor seep into his skin like water through pores. Every step, every sensation, and every twitch of his muscles gathered and travelled through his neurons as if updating data. His breaths calm, and his balance steady; he leaned his weight in a slow, intentional motion.
Kazutora paused. His foot felt a foreign texture as it pressed on the floor. He slowly lifted his foot. Kazutora frowned as he squinted his eyes to inspect the object. Then he slowly crouched down, and his hand extended towards the cluttered strands. The hair was tangled, curved, and frigid like it was constantly tied then untied. His eyes trailed the scattered strands, before landing on the door to his right.
Kazutora blinked, 'Did mom go out of her room?'
Kazutora shook the strands off his hands and walked towards Kurei's room. As he got closer, he noticed the strands of hair become more compact. Kazutora's fingers carefully stroked the edge of the door, he felt the rough wood turn chipped as his hands glided past the knob. He leaned forward and his eyes squinted as he inspected the door.
The chipped lines of wood were small, yet long, and against the dark mahogany the subtle scratches were clear as day.
He retracted his hand, and he felt the sweat accumulate on the surface of his skin.
'..What does this mean..?'
He walked backward and he felt his stomach churn as he continued to stare at the door. Kazutora bit his lip, he didn't like the implication. He didn't want to know. Didn't need to. Don't have to.
Kazutora's lips curved, then he turned his head towards the corridor. He walked forward as if it were a pebble in the road.
===
"That's a …silly face, Tora-tan."
Kazutora craned his head towards Miyuki, his brows scrunched. "Bleh."
Miyuki paused, her eyes blinked slowly. Her mouth gaped then curved, yet no words flowed.
"Sorry Mi-nee, but the soup.." He averted his gaze, feeling his hunger sap as the flavors clashed in his tongue. "It's super, super salty."
"Huh?" Miyuki's eyes widened, and her grip on the ladle tightened. She felt her vision blur as her hands shook.
Kazutora's lips curve to a strained smile. "It's like seawater."
"Ah.." Miyuki bit her lip, "I see.. I see…"
She walked towards Kazutora, she grasped his bowl and held it near her nose. The subtle earthy aroma prickled her nose like dew after the rain. Miyuki frowned. She lowered the bowl and dipped the spoon, then she moved it close to her lips. Her tongue felt the slick texture of water slide past her throat and the faint taste of salt. Her tongue tingled like tasting spice, except it was dulled like a fire suppressing its heat.
Like the dance of the flavors was a concept that her tongue couldn't grasp.
Miyuki paused, slowly lowered the bowl. "Sorry, Tora-tan I think I might've burnt my tongue," she smiled.
Kazutora's eyes widened, "Are you okay, Mi-nee??" He tugged her arm as his brows curved, "Does it hurt? Are you hurting?"
Miyuki patted his head, "It's not that bad."
"Are you sure? Like suuper sure?"
She nodded. Kazutora sighed in relief then his mouth curved into a pout, "You better not be lying, Mi-nee!"
Miyuki's eyes softened, she softly pressed his nose, "Mhm, I need a little taste tester though."
Kazutora's eyes sparkled and he pointed to himself, " Me! Me! I can do it! I can help you cook!!"
She pinched his cheeks, "Alright."