SOUR CANDY | killua z. ✔

26 | ease

tw: brief mention of child murder

from: INOUE KOTARO, MN. PHN.

the girls want a pic of their presents. <

to: INOUE KOTARO, MN. PHN.

no >

from: INOUE KOTARO, MN. PHN.

k. <

SEN SNORTED at the blasé reaction.

She was too excited to see her siblings and hadn't slept a wink on the flight. 

From the airship window, the sun was starting to rise. The sky was painted in sherbert-y pinks and oranges. Like sunrises at home. 

Home. Sen was going home.

Sen snapped a picture of the view with her brother's fancy phone.

"Attention, passengers. We will begin our descent momentarily. Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts."

In a fit of wild energy, she went through her backpack and made sure everything was there. She double-checked, triple-checked, and did it five more times before she was satisfied.

Sen bounced her leg and drummed her fingers against the window sill, urging the airship to land faster.

"Ohayo, young miss," a flight attendant greeted her. "Excited to land?"

"Hai."

The sound of her native language settled her immensely. Like the softness of a bed after a long day.

Even sweeter was the sight of Sen's five siblings waiting for her at arrivals.

A trio of tiny dark blurs rammed into her legs.

Sen screeched, kneeling down to envelop her littlest sisters in her arms. 

"Hi, babies," she cooed, stroking the triplets' shiny braids. "You miss me?"

"No," they said in unison, clinging onto her tightly. 

Liars, she thought fondly.

Sen looked up at the approaching footsteps. Mai, the little ghost, had her hair neatly done in a french braid, a pink ribbon threaded through it. She smiled, close-lipped and sedate, like a proper lady. 

Sen held her hand out, and Mai sighed as if the action were terribly burdensome. Regardless, she dropped and wormed her way into the embrace.

The triplets squealed at Mai's entrance, and Sen wanted more lips to kiss all their heads at once. They were reduced to a happy mass of black hair and girlish giggling. 

"Quit screaming, you animals," said Kotaro, watching them from a short distance. "It's seven in the morning."

His face was apathetic.