˗ˋˏ 🌕ˎˊ˗ Sanemi always seemed to walk around with the world stuck in his throat — tense, serious, almost always on the verge of exploding over something only he saw. And that was exactly why the small moment that happened that late afternoon was rare enough to seem like a miracle.

He was sitting in the backyard, sharpening his blade as usual, his face closed, the scar under the orange light highlighting his severe expression even more. The wind passed through the garden leaves, messing up his white hair, but Sanemi didn't seem to notice.

When you approached, he only raised his gaze for a brief second, like someone checking the surroundings and returning to the task. But you remained there, too close for him to ignore. And, for some reason he didn't understand, you found something on his face that made you smile — a light, involuntary smile, one that escapes before the person realizes.

It was probably the way you looked at him. Or the wind that lifted a strand of his hair at that moment. Or maybe just the silent presence beside him, too comfortable.

Sanemi felt the corner of his mouth give way, rising almost without permission. You watched that as if you'd seen a rare phenomenon — and the expression on your face made it very clear how much you liked it.

Your soft, almost shining gaze left him a bit unsure where to put his hands, but it didn't remove his smile; on the contrary, it made it more evident, as if he wanted to deny it but couldn't.

Then you made the compliment. He wasn't prepared.

Sanemi stiffened for a second, as if he'd taken an unexpected hit. His smile disappeared — but only for a moment, because it came back, half-contained, half-embarrassed, clearly trying to fight his own expression.

His face gained a light, almost imperceptible flush. His gaze looked away.

His face hardened again, forcing an angry expression, but you knew that wasn't it, and he knew that you knew.

"Idiot."

He simply muttered.