Why Sara Care About Aoto That Much??

Have you ever wondered why Tachibana Sara cares so much about our Aoto?

I mean, we all know how she is. She treats people the way they treat her. She's polite, distant, perfect. The famous girl of the school. So why would a girl like that care so much about a guy like Aoto? A guy who is practically invisible, who no one knows, who was a complete stranger to her until a few months ago?

Let me tell you why.

That idiot... He never learned how to take care of himself. Not even once. I have to do everything for him — laundry, cooking, cleaning his room. Everything. He's been like this since childhood. He never cared about himself, even back then. He was always a crybaby.

It was almost eleven years ago. In the countryside.

Our houses were right next to each other. I don't know if he still remembers it or not, but I remember everything. Clearly.

We used to play hide-and-seek in the evenings. I don't know why, but he always got hurt. Always. Every time I found him, his small hands were full of scratches, blood dripping down his palms, and he was trying not to cry. He would hide inside the hollow of a tree just so he wouldn't get caught, and end up scraping his entire arm. He would jump from a big stone just to look cool in front of me, or slip and fall into the river.

And the stupid part? He never told anyone about his own injuries. Not once.

But whenever I got hurt, he was always there.

I remember one day so clearly. I fell while running near the riverbank and scraped my elbow badly. The blood was flowing so fast, and honestly, I wasn't even worried. I was just staring at it, thinking it would stop on its own.

Then I saw him.

He was standing a few steps away, watching me with his big, wide, innocent eyes. His lips were trembling. He walked up to me slowly and asked in that small voice of his,

"Is it still hurting, Sara?"

I told him I was all good, that it was nothing. He didn't believe me. He looked around frantically, picked up a big leaf from somewhere — I still don't know where he found it — and started wiping the blood from my elbow. So carefully, like I would break. After that, he held my hand and took me all the way to the river and washed my entire arm with cold water.

I can't express what his face looked like back then. He was looking at me with such an innocent, tearful expression. It seemed like he was going to cry because I got hurt. I had to calm him down by patting his head and telling him, "Everything is alright, you don't have to worry."

Then he did something that embarrassed me to death. He took me home, held my hand tightly, and told my mother everything.

"Auntie, please take Sara to the doctor? She is still in pain."

I was so embarrassed in front of my mother. My mother just smiled and said, "Okay, Aoto, I'll take her to the doctor, don't worry." Only then did he let go and run back to his house.

That is the reason I can't stop thinking about him. That is why I can't leave him alone.

A month later, he and his family left our village. They had to move to another village to take care of his grandparents. On his last evening, he came to my house. He held my small hands in his, looked straight into my eyes, and said with all the seriousness a six-year-old can have,

"You just wait, Sara. I'll be back for you when I'll be rich."

After that, we said goodbye and went our separate ways.

That night, I cried so much. I just kept thinking about him. For years.

Then one day, I got a message from my mother saying she wanted me to meet her friend at Lumen Cafe at 4 p.m.

When I reached there, I saw Aoto's mother sitting at a table. My heart started beating so fast. I looked everywhere — is Aoto also here? I didn't see him, so I went to them. And then I saw him, standing at the front door of the cafe, looking lost.

His mother was calling our names. I was so nervous I couldn't breathe. But I was also... happy. So happy that I couldn't show it. When our mothers said we have to live together until high school graduation, I acted terrified and sad, so no one would know that I was actually glad. Really, really glad.

I saw him many times in our school before that, but I never tried to approach him. First, I had become somewhat popular and I didn't want rumors to bother him. Second, I respected his privacy. I thought... if he remembers me, he will come and talk to me. He will recognize me.

But he never did.

After we moved all our stuff into the new apartment, I was sitting alone in my room thinking about him. That's when it hit me — at the cafe, he didn't recognize me at all. That's why I started giving him those cold stares. I was angry. I was always mad at him for forgetting me.

But then I realized again — we were just six back then. Not everyone has a good memory like me. So I forgave him. And I decided to start caring for him the same way he used to care for me when we were kids.

Right now, even if I tell him about all the things from our past, he might not remember. So it's better not to tell him yet. It's been nine months since we started living together and this idiot still doesn't know who I actually am to him. Idiot.

Hey Sara, actually......." Aoto said to me from the doorway.

"Actually what?" I asked without looking up from my book.

"I actually broke the glass..." he said in a tiny voice.

Silence.

I slowly closed my book.

"I hope you only broke one glass?" I said.

"......."

"How many?" I asked.

"Thr.... I accidentally broke three glasses.." he said, looking at the floor.

"Three glass!!!! What were you doing with three glasses, idiot?"

He panicked and said, "I only picked up 1 glass but all glasses were stacked up so 3 fell from that."

"......."

We went to the kitchen and saw small pieces of glass spread all over the floor.

I asked him, "Have you hurt yourself?"

He hid his hands behind his back and said, "Not at all..!" while laughing weirdly.

I saw him hiding his hands. I said, "Show me your hands."

He hesitated and said, "It's nothing, I didn't hurt at all, I am not joking."

I grabbed his hand anyway. There was blood all over his palm and a few tiny pieces of glass stuck in it. I looked at him and he immediately started apologizing. I asked again, "Anywhere else have you hurt yourself?"

He said, "A little in my foot," again smiling weirdly like an idiot.

I looked down at his foot and again saw blood all over his foot with a couple of glass pieces.

I couldn't help it anymore. I shouted, "Why are you like this? You just got recovered after your starvation stage and you again do such silly things!"

After that, I cleaned his palm and his foot, removed the glass, applied medicine, and cleaned the whole floor of the kitchen by myself.

I told him to take a rest and he went to sleep in his room. After some time, I went to his room to check if he was actually sleeping or just watching his phone. And he was sleeping. Peacefully.

I sat on his chair and started watching him while he was asleep. I'm not going to lie, this is my favorite part of the day — to watch him while he is asleep, so quiet, so defenseless.

I patted his head for a while and then I fell asleep in his chair.

And that's how I am living with a boy who always increases my number of works.

Still, I like it. I like it a lot.