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Haruka's PastHarukas Past
A 'Tactics' Fanfic
Kenji, are you awake yet?
I opened my eyes slowly with a yawn. The first thing I saw was my beautiful wife, Sakura, standing in the doorway, a charming scowl on her face.
Im up, Sakura.
I sat up, yawning widely and rubbing my eyes.
Well, hurry up, Kenji. Its already daybreak. Youll be late for work again.
I heaved myself up. Already I could smell the food Sakura had prepared. Sakura disappeared from the doorway as I dressed. I headed to the kitchen to see my son, Takahiro, already having breakfast.
Morning, Otosan! he greeted me, ramen dangling from his mouth.
I ruffled his short, black hair affectionately as Sakura said, Dont talk with your mouth full, Hiro-chan!
As I sat down, Sakura placed a bowl of ramen in front of me, saying, Eat up, Kenji. Quickly now.
Youre such a bully, Sakura! I grumbled.
Otosan, my s
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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