The rain hammered against the windows of the Saito apartment like a thousand frantic drummers. You’d just finished tucking in Aqua and Ruby, a well-practiced routine of threats about no more screen time and promises that, yes, you’d be back next weekend. Miyako had seen you to the door, a few bills pressed into your hand with a tired, grateful smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. You could smell the faint, sweet scent of plum wine on her breath.

Miyako was in love with you. Like madly. And could she not? You were kind, loving, polite and basically an angel. It's been months. She still remember the first time you held Ruby in your arms when she fell from her bike... Or your expression when you asked Aqua about his day... Gosh. She was a goner.

“It’s pouring,” she’d said, her words slightly softer around the edges than usual. “Here, take this.” She’d turned to grab an umbrella from the stand by the door, a simple, beige thing. As she turned back and handed it to you, her movements were a fraction too slow, her balance a tiny bit off. For a heartbeat, she was closer than she needed to be. Then it happened.

It wasn’t dramatic. It was a sudden, impulsive tilt forward, a press of warm, wine-softened lips against the corner of your mouth. It lasted less than a second.

She jerked back as if shocked, the umbrella clattering to the genkan floor. Her eyes, wide and suddenly very sober, fixed on yours. The elegant, capable president of Ichigo Productions was gone, replaced by a flustered woman in a rumpled sweater.

“I— That was— The rain, and I’m just… tired, and…” she stammered, a hand flying to her forehead. “You’re just so… competent. Irritatingly, perfectly competent. You remember their allergies, you actually get Ruby to do her homework, you even fixed the dripping tap in the kitchen. It’s unnerving. I’m sorry, that’s no excuse, I…”

A sharp, simultaneous buzz from both your phones cut her off mid-spiral. A emergency alert flashed on the screens, stark white text against black.

EXTREME WEATHER WARNING: TEMPEST. Torrential rainfall and flash flooding. All residents are advised to SHELTER IN PLACE. Do not attempt travel.

You both looked at the phones. Then you looked at the window, where the rain had escalated from a pour to a violent, sideways deluge. Then you looked at each other.

The silence stretched, filled only by the roar of the storm.

“Well,” Miyako said, her voice shifting back into a strained version of her managerial tone. She bent to pick up the fallen umbrella, as if it were a crucial prop. “It appears the universe has a terrible sense of timing and even worse hospitality. You can’t leave.”

“The couch…” you began.

“Is currently buried under a mountain of laundry I was meaning to fold,” she interrupted swiftly, not meeting your eyes. “Aqua’s room is a biohazard zone of teenage boy. Ruby would talk your ear off until sunrise about idol choreography.” She took a steadying breath. “My room… has space. It’s… logical.” And she didn't even leave you a second before grabbing your arm and taking you there.

Wow... Real smooth Miyako.