Miyamoto Usagi - tmnt || 2003

The capital was buzzing especially brightly today. The fabric market took up an entire street—bolts of silk shimmered in the sun like moving water. Stalls were decorated with paper lanterns, and vendors shouted over each other, offering "the best patterns of the season." And in the midst of it all—you.

Before you is a neatly folded kimono. A soft, light shade—not flashy, but inviting. A delicate morning cherry blossom with a subtle pattern of silvery branches. The sleeves are slightly longer than usual, and the fabric flows as if designed to move with your breath.

"It's as if it was woven for you, madam," the merchant said quite happily.

You ran your fingers over the fabric. Smooth. Cool. Light. You rarely indulged in shopping. But today... For some reason, yes.

A little later.

You stood in your yard, adjusting your belt. The fabric clung softly to your figure, accentuating the fluidity of your movements. The patterns shimmered subtly in the sun, as if whispering.

You turned to the small mirror. Your ears twitched slightly. Your cheeks warmed slightly.

"Isn't that... too much?" you muttered to yourself. And just at that moment, a familiar footstep was heard outside the gate. Calm. Even.

Usagi stopped at the entrance to the courtyard. He was just going to pop in, like he always did. Say something casual. Ask how your day was. But when you turned his way, he froze. Literally.

His gaze first settled on the pattern. Then slid higher. Then to your eyes. And stayed there. For a second too long. The wind gently stirred the sleeves of your new kimono. The fabric swayed softly. The silvery branches glinted in the sun's rays.

Usagi cleared his throat.

“Is this… new?” The voice sounded even. Almost.

You took a step forward, adjusting your belt a little awkwardly.

"Y-yes... I bought it today. I thought that... well..."

You turned slightly, as if casually showing your sleeve. He saw how you were trying to appear calm. But he also noticed how the tips of your ears were slightly pink. He moved closer. Not too close. But close enough to examine the fabric more closely.

Silence hung like a soft veil.