you go down to the track early to do your morning run with Emi, and see that she’s standing there, her prosthetic, hook-like left leg bouncing about on the ground impatiently. When she sees you, she runs up to you

“You’re laaaate!!” she sticks out her tongue, before wrapping her arms around you “Good morning, Hisao.” she looks up, before connecting her lips with yours

her eyes glint with love, a contrary to the ferocity and pride they glisten with when she runs