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Even if An’s girlfriend was rather a documentary addict (specifically the ones that feature snakes and sometimes swimming bears), she doesn’t feel mutual in that term.
Because documentaries are (in her words) some of the most boring educational material that’s only partially better than actually reading the textbooks, which were only useful to her when it was dodgeball day at physical education (once again, in her words). And maybe because her friends are sort of weird and compare her and Kohane to a documentary of their own– the study of Shiraishi-san and Azusawa-san; a theoretical hypothesis of literal literature or whatever smart bullshit they said.
If that were even remotely the case, they’d be in the really crappy ones too, like those documentary scripts with the hooks that were apparently replaced with craft paper, left with an unfulfilled aspiration to capture the attention of a broader audience than high school teachers and the retired bingo club—
“Wow.” An pops her lips. “This is really interesting.”
Currently being on part seventeen of Kohane’s favorite documentary; ‘Snakes, Aren’t They Intriguing?’, which was more like a glorified version of a snake shedding compilation, because, that’s quite literally all it was.
It’s a shame, really. Seeing Kohane’s eyes beam towards the television meanwhile An was melting into the sofa and flickering water on her face just to stay awake. The things she does for that girl. Absolutely brutal.
Kohane’s glance peels away from the television. Her lashes flutter. Having flushed cheeks like cotton candy. “Do you really think so?” She questions with a head tilt.
Oh god, she’s so cute, An takes a breath, inhaling the aroma of scented candles and microwaved popcorn. She has butter on her lips. She has pretty eyes. She’s staring at me. “Sure I do.” An scrunches herself closer to Kohane. “I like anything you like.” She adds, like a liar.
If she were to alter the sentence, it could’ve been just a little more accurate. Maybe something along the lines of– ‘I hate everything about this but you’re here so I feel a bit better’, would make more sense. An has a chronic stay-away-from-snakes policy that she strictly follows, with the loose exception of Count Pearl because Kohane said that she would never bite. She hopes that’s true. She hopes that Kohane will be kind enough to not Facetime while Count Pearl is shedding in the background again.
Really, if it was up to her, they would be doing better things during the peak of their romantical prosperity, like going to a gas station past midnight and sharing a cup of ramen noodles, or having deep conversations about the aspects of criminal justice. Something else. Anything else. Whatever it takes to keep Kohane close while making it past 2am.
But it can’t be her fault. Kohane is just impossible to reject. She has those cute bursts of excitement and uneven layers on her hair. A deadly smile, too. “Is that so?”
“Mhm!” An hums, like a liar (again).
And still, An fully believes that documentaries are atrocities that should never be called entertainment. There’s just no way. She hates that her friends think that she’s part of one. They all say the same thing: something about An and Kohane being like the 2-in-1 episodes with two animals just to rush the season finale, animals that somehow have a connection to each other.
One thing that Toya in particular mentioned: ‘Shiraishi-san and Azusawa-san are surely something. Like a cat and dog, if that makes sense.’ to which An responded simply ‘No, no it doesn’t’.
Like, that’s just an insane analogy, like comparing a stereo to a pencil (how) or anything that’s written any low budget poet from the past five hundred years. No way in hell that they were remotely identical to household pets. Sure, Kohane might jump up two feet in the air when An taps her shoulder and maybe An has the habit of insisting that they cuddle each other to sleep because she’d miss her otherwise.
Yes, maybe An spins around her entire schedule just for a night with Kohane like a needy puppy. And yes, Kohane undeniably has a pretty stare. A long term one. Like an observant cat. Wait.
Oh, An scratches her head. Oh.
Subject One: Trust Me Bro, It’s Not That Serious
Shiraishi An; The Helpless Puppy
(So Cringe, It Almost Hurts)
Weaknesses: Free Ice Cream · Ghost Stories · Kohane
Strengths: Singing · Growing Mint · Sports (Except Volleyball)
Observation One: Gifting Is A Love Language.
‘Dogs have the tendency to gift their most prized possessions to anyone they love.’
1 of 3; Shiraishi An Code 39:95
“Hey, Kohane.” An gestures her hand.
Kohane spins a pencil between her fingers, momentarily pausing when An places a hand over her wrist. It wasn’t a hold, nor a grip. Just her hand over Kohane. “Hi, An-chan.” Kohane eventually says.
In the universe of a Shiraishi An, the concept of life and all things great fall to three things: the flavor of Sunday’s strawberry smoothie on her tongue, buying a brand new mic cover every Tuesday (why?), and, well, uh. The last one is said without telling, but it may be easier to say 8 days a week and 366 days of the year for what or whom she loves most.
And to follow the philosophy of 25 hours in a day, which she occasionally spends with the lesser of the three things. Like doing homework 30 minutes before its due and dialing Kohane’s number for an entire fifteen seconds before she picked up that same morning. The dialing didn’t really matter to her, but more of when she heard Kohane’s voice on the other end and the sound of her bike in the driveway soon after.
That leads them to now, sitting together by the kitchen island, sipping on smoothies and speaking of the irrelevants. The concept of time. Another idea for a song release. How pretty one another’s eyes were. And, apparently, An’s interest in gifting the little things she finds around the house.
“Here,” She says, sliding a small plastic toy in front of Kohane. “For you.”
The toy in question should’ve honestly been predictable, not in the ‘oh, so it’s a hamster.’ way, but it was definitely a cute fluffy animal that’d make An say something stupid like– ‘it reminded me of you’.
Kohane picks it up, balancing it over her two fingers. “Thank you, An-chan.” She accepts it with a firm grasp. “It’s cute.”
It may not have been a new concept to Kohane, considering that this had basically become a routine for the two of them. Where they meet at An’s house and eventually fall asleep just before her parents arrive. Kohane would go home the following the morning, only to later find An’s gift in the pocket of her pajama pants.
She chews her lip. “Like you.”
“You say that everytime,” Kohane laughs ever so sweetly. “Last time it was a hamster, then you ran with that for a year straight.”
“Kohane, you have puffy cheeks, your eyes are basically two bobas, you’re cute–”
“I think I get it. You tell me that description..often.” Kohane looks up at An. “And you know what? You’re cute too.”
An blinks. Once. Twice. Again and again. My girlfriend just called me cute, she thinks, the butterflies recollecting in her stomach (as if it’s not a normal or daily occurrence). I love her. I should dig through my drawers later. She’s beautiful. Three thoughts that should not be together in the same context under any circumstances, yet it somehow works.
“I got to say it first.” She leans back on her chair, stretching her arms over Kohane. “I like you. We should do this more often.”
“We already do.” Kohane answers. “But sure. I'd love to.”
All because Kohane tolerates An’s antics and keeps all of her little gifts in a shoebox under her bed (An only found that out after falling off the bed, twice). Because An has the strongest puppy eyes and her hypothetical ears fall flat when Kohane isn’t around.
When Kohane is around, she perks up by the second. Her nose crinkles and her eyes crinkle in a chain reaction.
The basics of their day, the simplicity of modern adoration if it were to involve close observation. How An has been doing this for numerous months and it happens to only be with Kohane; from letters written on a napkin and how she has made it a habit to look under her bed for childhood souvenirs that she could pass to her girlfriend.
Like a puppy displaying simple affection to someone that they love. Where An loves Kohane and she’s become an unintentional ball of affection wrapped in a fuzzy sweater (which was Kohane’s sweater, mind you).
Observation Two: Everywhere You Go, I Go
‘Dogs tend to follow and copy movements around those they love for security and comfort’
2 of 3; Shiraishi An Code 39:95
Over a thousand years worth of closely watching how puppies interact with the world have led to this moment; where it takes one web search to discover from the International Animal Researcher Organization or someone’s Instagram profile that it in fact is a very common thing to be followed by a ball of fluff on the ground.
That’s just what they do, and that’s rather their sweetest aspect of their clinginess. Well, because the subject in question is a puppy and Kohane was pretty positive that she wasn’t being followed around by a 160 centimeter dog with four layers of winter jackets. She was also pretty positive that she couldn’t search about the strange habits of her clingy girlfriend (not that she ever tried figuring it out).
It started with the less obvious things; like not waiting outside the house as instructed and instead following behind Kohane (she was just getting her jacket), then it turned to insisting on walking Kohane after practice (it took three times to convince Kohane, only because she was already halfway home).
That was back then, and An has in fact gotten worse.
Somehow, all of those occasions have compiled into An being a permanent resident of the Azusawa household whenever they weren’t at her place. It's bad. Really bad. It’s gotten to the point of Kohane’s parents raising no questions when An is on the couch or using their fancy silverware for box cake, they ask even less questions when An is using their cutting board and knife (both of which were meant for meat), and the vegetables that they bought scattered on the counter.
Why was she here in the first place? The answer is simple: Because Kohane was also here, cutting tomatoes next to her (An insisted on cutting everything but that).
She was supposed to be home an hour ago. She was meant to be lying in the bed or practicing guitar for the third time that week. An was not supposed to be here. Only needing to walk Kohane down the block, maybe kiss her cheek when they part ways, probably think about her on the trip home. Meal prepping this week's lunch with Kohane was in fact not part of her afternoon schedule.
“An-chan, I insist. You should go home.” Kohane says, pulling a bag over her shoulder.
She stands a short distance from her, being separated by a strengthening wind around her. Her lips curl– into a frown? No, no. Wait. A pout. Shiraishi An is pouting.
Inhale. Exhale. Okay, alright. “I’ll be alright. I promise.” She insists once more.
“Please?” An asks. “I can stop talking if that’s the problem. I won’t ramble about those top 500 coolest facts anymore–”
“No–” Kohane interrupts in a peep. She realizes quickly. “Sorry..uh, I like your rambles about the..yeah, uhm, that. But really, you don’t need to take me home.”
An presses her lips together. “Okay, yeah, I don’t need to take you home.” She echoes, glancing up at Kohane, then she waves. “Please call me when you get back.”
Silently, she nods in response, watching An turn by the heel the opposite direction. Slow steps. Really slow. It’s basically penguin shuffles. If penguins were trying to get home past midnight.
Oh my god. Is she doing what I think– oh my god. “An-chan.”
“We’re all finished.” An eats a piece of spinach while Kohane allegedly wasn’t looking. “Now we assemble!”
Kohane in fact did notice. But she paid no mind to it, thinking about their earlier interaction. When they were supposed to go their own paths on the sidewalk– when she stared at her with those puppy eyes, when her imaginary tail fell flat on the concrete (Kohane knows this is complete loser thinking, but she couldn’t help but picture it nonetheless).
Because An wasn’t even meant to be at her house and yet, she’s here. Her pout was replaced with a bright smile, she was a disastrous collection of sweetness and quite literally the embodiment of a frantic puppy, if puppies were to be sandwich connoisseurs and a living fun fact machine.
Oh my. Kohane holds her breath when her eyes meet An’s. A beautiful golden. Her hair messily covered her face from a failed attempt at a high ponytail, the blues meeting together at her brows.
“Yeah.” She says. “Uhm. Let’s just, uh– no tomatoes on your sandwich, right?”
“Never tomatoes.” An answers, making a ‘bleh’ sound before shaking the hair out of her face. “And no pickles on yours, I assume?”
Kohane grins. “That’s right.”
Yeah. Okay. Maybe they’re a weird couple after all.
An follows Kohane everywhere like it’s her lifelong mission. Kohane lets her do it and even agrees when An insists on making lunch with her, and with just about everything else too. Kohane is absolutely convinced that all of their mutual friends weren’t wrong about An being like a puppy. Very cute, very needy, very– Well. Everything.
Observation Three: You’re Counting Sheep (While I Count The Time Til’ Sunrise)
‘Dogs typically prefer to sleep close to those that they trust and care about.’
3 of 3; Shiraishi An Code 39:95
Drowned out by the coos of a buzzing fan, An’s murmurs are nothing more than another aspect of the night.
Or at least to Kohane, who has found herself restless in her own bed once again. It’s something she could never help, wishing upon the stars that she could just close her eyes and wake up to An’s continous taps and layered kisses on whatever part of Kohane’s face she could reach without leaving the pillow.
For now, she has nothing but the mental vision on the white ceiling.
Oh. And maybe the arm wrapped along her waist wasn’t a huge help either. Or the breaths that brush over her face. Perhaps literally any other aspect of this night. Just the two of them in a dim room, only partially lit by the moonlight creeping through her curtains.
Kohane doesn’t exactly recall when this routine has started– in all honestly, it may have begun during An’s strange following habit, or her habit of keeping Kohane close like they were connected by the fingertips. An has a lot of habits. Kohane takes her time to memorize them all. Like her ideal of taking Kohane’s clothing because it’s simply better (because it’s hers) and pulling her close, squeezing her like a teddy bear (because she’s hers).
Sure, Kohane may have lost the right to 90% of her own bed and maybe she’s past the line of how long she should’ve been letting this go on. Almost as if there was some sort of foreign power, an entity that whispers to her that An should get five more minutes– then another arrives like a more realistic visualization of the devil on one shoulder and the angel on the other, replaced with realism and the expectation she holds.
An expectation that An most definitely is the helpless puppy that everyone tells her she is. A person who aspires for the most sugary sweet type of loving, the kind that’d be advised against dentists 9/10 times, the kind that keeps her awake at night (among other uncontrolled variables).
Kohane shuffles a hand away from An’s hold, reaching it upwards to cup her face. Leave it up to Kohane to try the initiatives, and rely on the fact she easily falters to her own attempts.
Am I tired? I think I'm tired. It’s getting to me, Kohane’s face starts its beginning stages of burning up. It really is, oh no—
An shuffles in her position, loosening her current hold on the other girl. “Kohane..” She murmurs, a subtle raspiness evident in her throat. “Why did you..stop..”
What. She blinks. “What?”
Silence. Complete silence. An returns back to her usual late-night activities of sleeping, resting, and making sure that Kohane stays up long enough to see the sunrise through her window (even if that’s unintentional, it does occur).
Okay. Dogs definitely don’t sleep talk, Kohane thinks. So much for trying to sleep tonight.
She knows for a fact she could totally just tap An fully awake and very kindly ask her for a day off from her full time 24 hour teddy bear operation. But, she also can’t. She just can’t. Impossible.
Instead, she’ll use her time to trace the details of An’s face and count the time on her imaginary clock.
Shiraishi An; Complete
Code 39:95: Closed.
“They really don’t discuss this in the documentary,” Kohane pulls up the ottoman close by. “But did you know snakes smell with their tongue?”
Unfortunately, I do. “Nah. But, uhm, wow.” Because you told me.
Being detached for only a minute, a minute too long– An tugs Kohane’s sweater so she could sit back down. The documentary still echoed in the background, although neither of them were actually focusing on it anymore. Maybe because Kohane was finally starting to get bored of repeating the script– maybe it was An who pulled her away from the screen in favor of tangling her fingers into her hair.
Kohane traded her screentime for sharing her own unconventional facts, which basically makes their evening watch useless. “Did you also know they have great hearing despite having no ears?”
“Yeah, I do, actually.” An answers, clearing her throat. “Remember when I said one word in your room, and Count Pearl started slithering to me–”
“Oh.” She peeps. Briefly, she makes a popping sound with her lips. “Right. You screamed and tried flickering water..thinking she’d..melt?”
An softly sighs. “That was in the past.”
More often than she’d like to admit; their nights have become like this so often, it’s part of the routine by now. Kohane would put something on the television, they’d focus on it for the first few hours before they’d drift to something else, making it become nothing more than background noise to their late night chatter.
Following the attributes that follow with a full moon evening, pretending that nothing matters until the sun returns into their vision. An lets her mind race, her fingers absentmindedly moving to detail every strand of Kohane’s hair. Her lips move on their own, making no mind to what she’s actually saying. And she does the very same. Every single time.
It was just the two of them. The television. And An’s rapidly deteriorating denial of them being the human equivalent to a cat and dog. It’d still be inaccurate too– because An acted more like a puppy, and Kohane, uhm. Oh.
Subject Two: Does She Also Tear Up Pillows? Okay. Nevermind.
Azusawa Kohane; The Spontaneous Cat
(Clarification; No Furniture Damaged)
Weaknesses: Peach buns · Too much affection · Public Speaking
Strengths: Singing · Playing the recorder · Handling snakes
Observation One: I Love You (How Can I Show It Subtly?)
‘Cats are often nervous when first being publicly affectionate to those they love.’
1 of 3; Azusawa Kohane Code 39:95
Undeniably, public displays of affection have never been Kohane’s personal taste. Probably nothing involving the word public could ever pique her interest, because she dislikes the concept and feels ten different incorrect emotions when she’s standing outside of Kamikou.
It was supposed to be a nice little surprise, stopping by An’s school during lunch just to drop off a meal to her– then it suddenly became Kohane messaging her at every single stop sign that she was in fact going to arrive so she should be prepared to meet her by the gate. I’m two stops away, An-chan!, followed by another I'm just one stop away! Please be ready and act surprised maybe… until it was a verbal confirmation at the gates.
“Ah, Azusawa-san.” A monotone voice spoke. Which was in fact, not An.
“Huh, Aoyagi-kun?” Kohane shoots her head up. “Ah, uh. Hi.” She waves, quietly scanning out the area behind him. No sight of her anywhere.
Toya has a textbook around his arm, he’s eating trail mix from a styrofoam bowl. “Are you here for someone?” He eventually asks.
Now, Kohane knows that Toya is aware of her and An’s relationship, but to say it directly seemed like such an awkward thing to her. By awkward, she means she might change the topic a thousand times before saying a simple ‘I’m bringing lunch to An-chan!’, as her loser agenda is meant to stay between the two of them.
So, her response starts with a pile of nonsense stories about the bread factory and the revolutionary 1928 creation of sliced bread before ending with a simple– “So I just happened to stop by..with sandwiches.”
“Huh.” He bites a chocolate chip. “Are you waiting on Shiraishi-san?”
Kohane finally exhales. “Yes.”
Toya hums in response, taking one glance over his shoulder. Momentary silence. Someone screams in the background, they both turn to the sound. Two kids are playing tag. Silence again.
He opens his mouth, like he’s about to speak. Goldfish. False, it’s silence again. “Uh. Do you want some?” Toya offers, lowering the bowl.
Kohane nods. She takes a peanut.
Someone screams again. Except, it’s more familiar this time. In the form of messy blue hair and an undone tie. “Oh my god.” Kohane glances up. It’s An. She smiles. “Oh my god. My phone died. It legit died because Akito used it for dumbass rhythm games again, you know, maybe if he put that much energy into math then he wouldn’t be failing–”
“An-chan.” Kohane interrupts. “Good to see you’re lively.” She takes a pause, remembering that Toya was in fact right there, right about to witness Kohane passing lunch to An.
She knows very well that it’s very much not serious, and Toya isn’t the type of guy to tease anyone about anything (that’s Akito’s job, one of his graphic tees even has it in bold). But just the idea of it, oh no.
And An is giving her that look again. Oh no. Ohhh no. “I, uh, remember the sandwiches?”
“You bought me lunch.” An perks up, like she wasn’t already informed seven times over text. “You’re amazing. I love it. I love you. I'm gonna eat this and tell everyone that my beautiful girlfriend made me lunch and rub it in all their faces.”
Too lively, An-chan is too lively. “Thank..you?” Kohane huffs a laugh. “And..and–and.” She steals a glance. Not only was it Toya– but Akito was there too. She gulps. Inhale. Exhale. Potential somersault. “Love you too.” She basically whispers.
An curiously looks. “Hah– what was that?”
“Love you too–” Kohane blinks. “I should go to, uh, school! See you!”
“But Miyajou is closed–” An glances back up, Kohane is nowhere in sight. “Oh.” She clutches onto the paper bag. “This is your fault, Akito. You totally scared her away with your rhythm gameness.”
“What,” Akito pauses. “-the hell.”
Observation Two: At My Grasp
‘Cats sometimes ask for permission to be affectionate by nudging those they love.’
2 of 3; Azusawa Kohane Code 39:95
By now, it’s no secret that Kohane has the tendency to hold back on her affection.
Maybe she isn’t the type to run to An when their friends are around, and maybe she ran away only after saying a simple ‘love you too’ to An at the school gate. Maybe she’s just a loser– or she just lives for the more subtle kind of love that she displays when they’re alone.
Because she has so many love languages, every single one manages to reach past her regulations. One moment at a time. Kohane could eventually be bolder one of these days, when she finally adjusts to not asking first just to kiss An by the doorway. When An isn’t too distracted or easily flustered anymore.
“Hey, An-chan.” Kohane says, tapping at An’s shoulder. Even when she already had her attention prior.
“Kohane.” An speaks softly.
She stays silent, poking at An again and again. An is (while clearly confused) didn’t seem bothered about it, instead appearing to become a chess player halfway through their interaction. Connecting the pieces together, predicting Kohane’s next move (which was another tap).
“Ah, wait.” It finally clicks to her. She wraps her arms around Kohane. “Is that right? Am I fluent in Kohane now?”
With a delay, Kohane manages to muster a laugh. “Maybe you are.”
Thank goodness for that. Kohane lazily leans herself over An, brushing away stray strands of hair with soft flicks of her finger. In all honesty, Kohane was a bit shocked when she noticed An’s accuracy started to increase in her simple actions– now it’s become some sort of routine, like a wordless language that they’ve come up with.
Sometimes, An would tease that Kohane’s routines seemed familiar to those of the neighborhood cats she saw around Vivid Street. At first, Kohane ran with the conclusion of assuming that it was just an excuse to call Kohane another fluffy animal. Now she’s considering if An could’ve been serious after all.
And when she does start thinking, she soon doesn’t. Feeling the blankets brush her leg, seeing An’s nose nuzzle her own.
If it takes being another animal, then so be it.
Observation Three: Blink, Stare, Adore
‘Cats are usually always caught staring at those they love most.’
3 of 3; Azusawa Kohane Code 39:95
It may have taken some time for An to realize Kohane’s preference in romance, realizing that picking her up in the middle of the crowd and carrying her into the sunset was in fact not a possibility with her (she would still try).
Eventually adjusting to the fact that Kohane has and always will be the silent type of romantic. Admiring An from a distance when she’s singing in solo practice, keeping her close even though she knows that An should be leaving, always keeping her gaze fixated on her throughout all hours that they’re together.
From the first time that they locked eyes to today, Kohane didn’t change one bit in the sense that her stare is always apparent. Her eyes soften and her body relaxes when she’s nearby. Sometimes, her words become nothing and while her coffee-colored eyes speak every single language for her own sake.
An finds herself fond of it. Spotting Kohane in the corner, with an expression filled with so much care and a peace of mind. One of Kohane’s love languages that took An the longest to learn– but it might just be one of her favorites.
Because Kohane really is like a cat. “Kohane.” An speaks, placing a mic next to Kohane. “Are you ready?”
“Ah.” Kohane blinks, glancing around. Eventually resting over vision back on An. “Yeah.” She smiles.
An already knows Kohane too well by now, knowing that Kohane still kept her eyes on her as she previously did, knowing that every movement of Kohane had some sort of unintentional meaning. Like the gentle tap of her finger when she’s asking for something, or the puff of her cheeks when she’s in any scenario, now that An thinks about it.
Whatever. None of her languages mattered when they were together, because it’d all combine into one eventually. Where only the two of them understand one another and Kohane switches from flustered to her own kind of romantic. One where the two would kiss behind books and hold hands underneath the table.
Or when they’re on the stage together, Kohane’s hand squeezes tightly on An’s wrist. Where the audience doesn’t exist, where it’s just the two of them in this endless universe.
A alternate dimension where their way of loving is so different from one another, yet it alters and shifts into something that could be affiliated. A conclusion that even through it all, they’re the same person in disguise– two girls that call themselves partners, as they simply are.
Where their great documentary comes to some strange conclusion. A finale of her heart before every drop is squeezed and melted from an overflow of affection.
Azusawa Kohane; Complete
Code 39:95: Closed.
Okay. Final conclusion. Kohane and An literally cannot finish anything on live television together.
The television shut off however long ago, leaving the two of them in the dark (not actually, the kitchen light was still turned on). With Kohane lying down on An’s lap, making a constellation out of her hair and whatever familiar phrases she’s used forever ago.
Kohane has run out of snake facts however long ago. An’s eyes bead from her own sleepiness. Count Pearl is wrapped idly around the tree in the corner.
Just another one of those things that they’ve known for so long– factored by the fact An is basically a permanent resident at Kohane’s house and Kohane does just about anything for their little moments (An pays attention to the bigger ones, as always). Brushed with a simple heat to her cheeks and a less simple concept of braiding Kohane’s hair without basic thoughts.
They’ve been silent for some time. An figures that she could break it, so she does it in the most subtle way she knows. “You’re cute when you’re focused.”
“An-chan!” Kohane whines, pressing her hands over her face. “Seriously?!”
“Did I say something wrong–” She pauses. A realization clicking, a rather embarrassing one. Kohane flies around spontaneously, and she looks cute while doing so– goddamnit. “Oh.” She’s cute when she’s flustered. She’s like a really chaotic cat. “ Oh. ” An repeats.
Kohane eventually settles in An’s arms, although her flushed expression never once faded away since they arrived. “Huh?” She musters out, confused.
“Oh.” Kohane is like a cat.