Sisters In Arms

The rustle of plastic bags filled the room as Melissa carefully unloaded their contents onto the coffee table. She pulled her sleeves back with a soft exhale, revealing an assortment of care:

Boxes of fever medication. Cooling pads. Two bottles of juice, one sports drink. A small cluster of ripe bananas. And a battered can of coffee.

She stretched out her arms, fingers laced together, joints popping.

“Alright. Let’s do this.”

Crow remained motionless beneath the blanket, and the tension in his face eased.

Melissa knelt beside the couch, pulling out a cooling pad and peeling open the wrapper.

“This one sticks. Stays cool for hours,” she explained, eyes flicking toward Hinata. “Better than holding ice forever.”

She pressed it against Crow’s forehead, smoothing it down until it settled into place. Hinata watched intently, silently absorbing every detail.

Melissa picked up a thermometer next, pressing the power button until it beeped, a blue glow illuminating the screen. She turned it toward Hinata.

“It’ll show ‘Lo’ until it reads his temperature. Between 35 and 37 is good. Above that, he’s still sick.”

She mimed placing it beneath her tongue. “Check every two hours.”

Hinata nodded, fiddling with the device, committing it to memory.

“I’ll fix something to eat,” Melissa said, already moving toward the kitchen. She glanced briefly over her shoulder, adding, “Keep an eye on him?”

Hinata hesitated only briefly, voice more open than usual. “…I will.”

Melissa moved off, and Hinata’s eyes lingered thoughtfully after her—not guarded, but respectful.

The kitchen lights clicked to life. Melissa moved easily, rolling her sleeves up further and tying her hair back. The chopping board met the countertop with a soft thud, and the knife worked as she prepared ingredients, the muted chopping filling the quiet space.

Hinata sat nearby, the steady rhythm of Melissa’s movements reminded her of Crow. Soon, the fragrance of garlic and ginger filled the room.

Melissa stepped from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel, and picked up the TV remote. She navigated to a playlist titled "Old But Gold."

Soft rock melodies filtered into the air, something Crow would play while lost in mundane tasks.

The stove chimed, signaling readiness.

Hinata’s stomach betrayed her with a subtle growl. She tensed, slightly embarrassed.

Melissa returned to the table with two steaming bowls. She placed one before Hinata, and a simple, calm invitation.

“Dig in.”

Melissa sank into her chair, casually scrolling through her phone as she began eating.

Hinata stared at the bowl in front of her—simple rice porridge, a soft-boiled egg nestled warmly on top, fresh scallions sprinkled lightly, tiny pieces of crisp garlic adding subtle texture. Pretty similar to the one she makes.

Carefully, she took a small bite. The warmth filled her chest immediately.

She glanced up again at Melissa, absorbed in her phone, chewing.

No words passed between them, only the gentle scrape of spoons and music.

— • —

The sun dipped low, washing the sky in quiet oranges and deepening purples. The rooftop caught the last glow.

Melissa stood by the railing, hands tucked in her pockets, hair tousled by the breeze. Her gaze drifted far beyond the skyline, distant and thoughtful.

Behind her, the rooftop door clicked.

Hinata stepped onto the rooftop, quiet and composed.

Melissa glanced over without words. Hinata joined her at the railing, mirroring her stance and looking out over the same cityscape.

“How is he?” Melissa asked her.

“Thirty-seven. Normal now, I think.” Hinata replied.

Melissa nodded. “Nice.”

Silence again. Melissa pulled a cigarette from her pocket, lifting it casually.

“You smoke?”

Hinata shook her head briefly.

Melissa nodded, unbothered, lighting the stick. Smoke curled into the air as she exhaled, her voice quieter.

“Hey, about last night—” She hesitated, her gaze fixed. “I didn’t mean to get in your face. I get loud when I drink. Didn’t mean to swing it at you.”

Hinata released a slow breath. “You’re cool.”

Melissa blinked in mild surprise, her lips curling faintly. She took another drag.

The wind wove around them. Hinata cleared her throat.

“…I’m sorry,” she murmured. “All of this is my fault.”

Melissa gave a soft, knowing scoff. “That’s what he gets,” she replied, adjusting her sleeve, “…for always being so damn nosy.”

Her gaze lingered on the darkening sky. “Don’t let the dumb jokes fool you. He’s a softie.”

Hinata turned slightly.

“He’s always been like that,” Melissa continued. “Since the orphanage.”

She tapped ash from the cigarette. “At first, I thought he was irritating. Always smiling, too damn nice. I wanted to punch him every time I saw his face.”

A dry chuckle escaped her. “Then I learned some things. Thought it would explain why he was so good to people. But it didn’t—it just made it worse.”

Her shoulders sank. “I kept wondering… ‘Why aren’t you pissed off?’ Why does he still smile after everything? Even now, I still don’t get it.”

Hinata watched Melissa reach back, pulling her hoodie forward to reveal her upper back. Beneath an intricate tattoo—black roses twisting around a skull—faint white scars traced her skin, marking memories of the past.

Hinata’s eyes widened, her breath catching softly.

“Nice, right?” Melissa let the hoodie fall back into place. “I was abused as a kid—in ways you can already imagine.”

Hinata’s grip tightened on the railing. Melissa exhaled smoke slowly.

“Some older kids at the home caught on. Used me as their punching bag. I couldn’t fight back then. Then he showed up.”

Melissa recalled the memory with quiet fondness. “Swinging sticks around like some pretend-ninja. He knocked three guys flat in under a minute.” She laughed. “He got detention; I got ice packs… and a friend who wouldn’t leave me alone.”

The air between them suddenly felt warmer, less distant.

“He’s an idiot. Must be difficult having him around.” Hinata remarked.

“You bet,” Melissa said, straightening. “But sometimes that idiot needs a reality check. Pinch him, punch him, whatever. Just get through that thick skull.”

Hinata turned her gaze to Melissa. “Why me?”

Melissa smiled, almost ruefully. “First off—I’m not into guys. Or girls. Or clingy humans demanding sappy texts.”

Then, she paused. “And second, I’m pretty sure he likes you. Dumb, headfirst, daydreaming kind of like.”

Hinata’s eyes widened before she quickly looked away.

Melissa stretched, smiling. “Anyway, don’t tell him. It’ll go to his head.”

She moved towards the rooftop door. “Let’s check on him—he might’ve rolled onto the floor by now.”

Hinata lingered a second longer, gripping the railing briefly as though steadying herself. Then she released it, turning to follow.

“You should stop smoking,” she murmured as she joined Melissa.

Melissa glanced back, smirking lightly. “Beat it, kid. Let an aunt have her peace.”

Hinata’s lips twitched into a small, incredulous smirk.

The rooftop door closed behind them, leaving the quiet evening sky to hold the lingering warmth.