She was, in every sense of the word, moe . That indefinable quality of clumsy, heart-tugging charm that made you want to protect her, even as she held the umbrella.
The rain was a persistent, misty drizzle, the kind that soaked you through patience rather than volume. Hana Sato huddled under the awning of a closed bookstore, her school bag clutched to her chest like a shield. She was late, her phone was dead, and her carefully drawn map of the neighborhood had turned into a blue, watery blur. Moe girl touch advance
Hana smiled. “Then I guess you’d better come in and wait for the rain to stop.” She was, in every sense of the word, moe
The girl’s face brightened. “That’s two blocks over! I can show you.” She stepped closer, bringing Hana under the umbrella’s canopy. “But first, you’re shivering.” Hana Sato huddled under the awning of a
It wasn’t a demand. It was an invitation. A final, perfect advance.
The voice was soft, a gentle chime against the drumming rain. Hana looked up to see a girl peering at her from under a large, clear plastic umbrella. She was shorter than Hana, with hair the color of cinnamon roll icing and eyes so large and dark they seemed to absorb the gray afternoon light. She wore a pale yellow sundress dotted with tiny strawberries, completely at odds with the dreary weather.