Client 39: Miyawaki Sakura

Until spring arrives and breaks what winter gave,
Snow falls heavy on the flower field's grave.
And when alas, the white cherry blossom blooms,
Yet, quietly, the winter snow continues to loom.

OH MY F*CKING GOD THEY'RE SO PRETTY!!!!

That…is the response to how the shoes are painted. It takes a few weeks more before you finally send it off, after spending far too much time making sure every detail is exactly how you want it. You wrap it carefully, double-check the packaging three separate times, and drive it straight to the Ji mansion with the vague anxiety that comes with handing something personal, hoping it survives the journey intact at the back of your beat up van.

You only know the reaction to your work by the way your phone explodes.

The first message is a photo of Jiyeon standing in front of the building. The second is blurry. The third is somehow blurrier.

And the fourth is a video that you just pressed play.

The camera shakes violently as Suhyeon jumps around the living room while her mother laughs somewhere off-screen. The painting leans against the wall in the background, catching the afternoon light from a nearby window, and every few seconds Suhyeon points at it again like she needs to physically confirm that it's real and hasn't somehow vanished. The video contains approximately three coherent words and several excited noises from the household (and some smacks to the wall, presumably from Suhyeon) that probably qualify as a form of excited language. At one point the camera swings wildly toward the ceiling before returning to the painting again, and somehow that only makes your heart bloom even more.

THANK YOU!!!!!!

MOM IS CRYING

IM ALSO CRYING

THIS IS YOUR FAULT

HOLY SHIT!

A little secret: when Jiyeon throws out profanity, she really knows how to, and it’s totally and entirely unrelated to you, obviously. Still, if she's going to enact the act of swearing, at least it's because she's happy and not because she stubbed her toe.

You're very welcome, Puffy.

Three dots immediately appear. Disappear. Reappear. Then…

YOU MADE THE SHOE LOOK COOL!!!

Pfff. Out of everything she could have said about the painting, that…might be the most sincere compliment you have ever received as an artist. You two both come from prestigious artistic backgrounds, so you expect a more critical feedback, something about the composition, the moving colours, or it captures the blood, sweat, and tears that Suhyeon pours out to her work.

But nope, you just… made the shoe look cool. If only you got the same kind of response from ‘her’— 

"EXCUSE ME! WHO ORDERED WICKED WING?" Oh hey, that's your meal. Probably best to eat before driving home.

The drive home is one you could probably do blindfolded, not that you'd ever try. Especially not tonight when it's snowy as fuck.

You've driven this route so many times that every turn, every traffic light, and every oddly placed convenience store feels permanently etched into your memory. And honestly, you need it etched into your brain especially during Winter: Your old van rumbles beneath flickering streetlights, tyres crunching over fresh snow while music from your phone fills the cabin just loudly enough to keep you awake. Otherwise, you would've fallen asleep, frozen, or drowning to the thought of Jiyeon's reaction to the dozens of small requests you've handled over the past few months. Then, somehow, your brain decides to remind you of the time you accompanied a client to Comic Con wearing a sailor uniform.

(Fucking worth it. Got a free figurine afterwards.)

You are roughly ten minutes from home, passing through the road with cherry blossom trees side by side, the heavy white caps bending branches under their weight to replace the flowers, when your phone rings through the speakers.

Sakura.

"Ohaiyo, Kkura." "PC Bang."

"…hello to you too, jackass." "PC Bang."

"Saku—" "PC Bang."

Twenty minutes later, you’re taking the PC spot next to her. She's right about being 'already inside' — she has already made herself comfortable at home, logged into a game. Not so much as a "thanks for making a U-turn on snow-covered roads." This ungrateful girl.

The PC bang glows with rows of monitors and neon lights, a far contrast to the freezing darkness behind the automatic sliding door. Keyboards clacking from every direction while the familiar smell of instant noodles, energy drinks, and poor life choices hangs permanently in the air. Screens flash with explosions, victory screens, and rapidly moving characters while conversations overlap from every corner of the room. Somewhere nearby, someone is arguing passionately with a teammate they've never met (it's the nicest you can say to a LoL game).

In other words, welcome to Sakura's abode.

"Are you calling me here to watch your KDA?" "No."

"Can you at least look at me when answering?" "Queue already, far out."

Three matches later, you wish you had ignored her call and enjoy your time mixing paints at home instead. Drinking tea. Sleeping. Literally anything else.

"How the fuck are you still alive?"

"Built different." "You say that to everything."

"It's called positioning." "More like you disappearing every team fight then magically showing up with four eliminations."

Six matches later, your shoulder pops, your eyes hurt, your wrists hurt, your back is finally suffering-free, mom's spaghetti. Far out, you're too old to play games this well, yet Sakura looks exactly the same as she did three games ago.

Well, maybe not, because she finally removes one earcup. And usually, this is how you know she wants something.

"Hey."

"Hm?"

"Can you be my friend?"

…Huh. You stare at her. Then at the monitor. Then back at her. Uh…

"Are you friendzoning me? Sorry, I don't see you th—"

Yeah, fair enough, you deserve that smack on your arm. Times ten. "Dumbass, I'm serious."

"I get it, sorry sorry." You chuckle. "So…what kind of friend request are we talking about?"

And you feel a buzz in your pocket. Glancing down at the phone screen, you immediately see a new message from Sakura, which would be completely normal if she wasn’t sitting less than a meter away from you. You slowly look over, only to find her staring intently at her monitor with the exaggerated focus of someone pretending they weren't responsible for whatever that just appeared on your phone.

Ok, let’s see what she sends you: A screenshot of the Client Form, with the Requester filled out as Sakura herself (hold up, what?), and the assigned Companion as you (hold up, what now?). The reason is…peculiar.