The cold got worse.
It was no longer "wow, weird temperature."
It was "why did August decide to become a side villain?"
Harumi almost dropped the key three times trying to open the gate while balancing grocery bags and what remained of her dignity.
— Izuuumi! Open up before I turn into a historical monument!
The door opened.
Izumi stood there in a hoodie, hair tied in a crooked bun, wearing an expression of absolute judgment.
She looked at Harumi.
Then at the two children behind her.
Then back at Harumi.
— You went to buy rice.
— Yes.
— And came back with two human beings.
— Unexpected promotion.
Izumi closed her eyes for two full seconds.
— I can't leave you alone with a grocery list.
Mei stepped inside quietly, removing her shoes with exaggerated care.
— The house is big… — she murmured, almost apologizing for stepping in.
Takeru entered after her.
Silent.
His gaze mapped the entire space in less than five seconds.
Door.Window.Hallway.Stairs.Distance to the exit.
Izumi noticed.
Raised an eyebrow.
— He's calculating an escape route.
— He's being prudent, — Harumi said, dropping the grocery bags on the floor. — Unlike me.
Takeru didn't react.
But he didn't disagree either.
Harumi clapped once, far too energetic for the freezing weather.
— Alright! Immediate plan: defrost human beings.
— We don't need anything, — Takeru said quickly.
Not aggressive.
Defensive.
Harumi tilted her head.
— I know you can handle yourself.
Silence.
— But today, you don't have to. Not with me.
A small pause.
Mei looked at her brother.
— …She said we don't have to.
Silence again.
The cold slipped in through the crack of the door like a final argument.
Harumi pointed down the hallway.
— Hot shower. Real hot water. No dramatic time limit.
Takeru stiffened.
— That's not necessary.
Mei rolled her eyes.
Izumi crossed her arms.
— Kid, I can hear the wind passing through your jacket.
His ears turned red.
Not from embarrassment.
From frustration at not having a quick counterargument.
Mei timidly raised her hand.
— Is the water… really hot?
Harumi placed a hand over her heart, offended.
— I do not joke about hot water.
Five minutes later, the bathroom was filled with steam.
Mei went first.
Still cautious.
Still far too polite.
Harumi stayed outside the shower curtain, handing over shampoo and giving overly dramatic explanations.
— This is soap. It doesn't bite. This is shampoo. Also does not bite. If it bites, I will personally fight it.
Mei let out a tiny giggle.
The sound echoed in the small bathroom like someone had switched on a light.
— It looks like clouds… — she murmured, staring at the foam.
Harumi went quiet for a second.
Okay wow, that red hair is real. Not a wig. Incredible.
But this wasn't about hair.
It was about normal.
Out in the hallway, Izumi leaned against the wall.
Takeru stood in the middle of the corridor.
Rigid.
— You can sit down, — Izumi said.
— I'm fine.
— Do you always answer that?
He didn't reply.
Izumi sighed.
— Relax. If she were a kidnapper, she'd be the worst one in history. She talks too much.
Small pause.
Takeru muttered:
— I noticed.
But his shoulders lowered half a centimeter.
When Mei came out wrapped in an enormous towel, she looked even smaller.
Her red hair brighter than before.
But lighter somehow.
Harumi dried her hair with exaggerated care.
— There. You officially glow now.
Mei slowly twirled.
— Can I help with dinner?
— You can command me, — Harumi answered automatically.
Izumi coughed.
— Control yourself.
Then it was Takeru's turn.
He stepped into the bathroom like he was entering neutral territory.
Stood there, watching the water fall.
Steam rising.
Mirror fogging.
Silence.
From the hallway, Harumi called out:
— You can use everything. Nothing here belongs in a museum.
A few seconds passed.
Then the sound of water shifted.
When he came out — damp hair, borrowed clean clothes slightly too big for him — he looked… smaller.
Not weaker.
Just less armed.
Harumi tossed a towel onto his head.
— Dry off before you turn my hallway into an artificial lake.
He caught the towel.
Looked at her.
— Do you do this for everyone?
— Bring strangers home? No.
Pause.
— Only when I'm annoyed.
He almost asked, "At what?"
But didn't.
Mei appeared in the kitchen.
— I know how to crack eggs without getting shell in.
Harumi pressed a hand to her chest.
— Finally, someone competent in this house.
Izumi pointed at her.
— I heard that.
The kitchen turned into coordinated chaos.
Rice bubbling.
Eggs sizzling in the pan.
Harumi talking too much.
Mei concentrating too hard.
Izumi supervising like an unofficial manager.
Takeru leaning against the doorway.
Watching.
Not smiling.
But not as tense as before.
Harumi suddenly turned.
— Hey, Takeru.
He looked up.
— Hm?
— Runny yolk or firm?
He blinked.
Simple question.
Normal question.
— Runny.
— Excellent choice, — she declared as if it were a political stance.
Mei smiled.
Izumi noticed.
Takeru noticed that Izumi noticed.
And went serious again.
But this time, it wasn't suspicion.
It was caution.
When they finally sat down to eat, the wind hit the window hard.
August wasn't supposed to be this cold.
But inside, it was warm.
Not perfect.
Not fixed.
But warm.
Mei held her chopsticks and murmured:
— Itadakimasu.
Takeru repeated it, softer.
Harumi smiled.
And without realizing it, that improvised dinner wasn't just food.
It was the first small miracle of the enormous house on the corner.