Color leaves are itching.
There's something rubbing around on her collarbone, and it's light, like an animal trying out with a nose tip. She opened her eyes blindly and saw a piece of gold. Yachiyo is lying in her neck, with her nostrils attached to her collarbone, and is “sniffing” her very carefully.
"The smell module is not yet in place." The sound of the leaf is so dumb.
Yachiyo heads up. It also had a slight glitch of rebooting on its face, and it blinked twice before it was completely lit. There were shallow red marks on the skin that were crushed overnight, and a few rims of blond hair.
"I know." She said, "There's a small dent in the clavicle of the leaf, and my nostrils just got stuck."
Color leaves saw her for a while. Yachiyo's face appeared so glamorous in the light of the morning that the colour of the leaf stretched out a thread of blond hair on Yachiyo's face.
"Last night." She said.
Yachiyo is crooked.
"You cried."
"Well," "Yachiyo admits to it, "no tears, but tears."
The coloured leaves sit on the bed and the back is sore. She held her back quietly. Yachiyo noticed.
"The gravitational lobe hurts."
“No.”
"I touched the back of the leaf many times last night. The waist of the colour leaves will move in my hand. That's why the back hurts."
The coloured leaf's heart was missed, and it was a deep breath from the innocent face of Yachiyo.
"Go for breakfast." The leaf goes out of bed.
Colour leaves open the fridge, two boxes of milk, half a cabbage, eggs, a bag of sliced bread. She smelt milk.
"Colour leaves." Yachiyo stood in front of the kitchen, wearing another t-shirt with a coloured leaf, with a blond hair on his shoulder, "that milk expired."
"A day out is fine."
"The coloured leaves shall drink the milk which has expired."
"Heated is fine."
Yachiyo came in and stood next to the coloured leaves, and two were almost attached. Yachiyo looked down at the milk boxes in the hands of the colour leaves and looked up at the colour leaves.
"The Colour Leave."
The coloured leaves put the milk box down.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm going to take good care of the leaves." Yachiyo said, "I had to look at the parts of the leaves that I saw on the night of the month. Now I can stand next to the leaf, see the refrigerator of the leaf, see the date of the milk, see the back pain of the leaf. I don't want to just watch."
Colour leaves were staring at her. Yachiyo was faceless.
"Fried eggs." "Can you eat?"
"Yes. Taste module works, and the leaves are drawn. Yachiyo smiles.
The colour leaves turn around and hit the eggs. Yachiyo stood by and watched quietly. When the leaf poured the egg fluid into the pot, it felt that Yachiyo's sight fell on her hand, heavy and focused. The feeling of being watched with all your attention makes the hand of the leaf a little unstable.
"Don't look." The leaf says.
"Don't."
"Eggs will burn."
"The hands of the coloured leaves are very good, and the flipping is very good. I like the hand of the leaf."
The colour leaves stopped. The eggs were then shoveled into the plate and handed over to Yachiyo.
Yachiyo picked up the dishes and sat down at the table. The coloured leaves sat opposite and watched Yachiyo lift an egg fork into his mouth.
Yachiyo stopped chewing and blinked twice. Then she put the fork down and looked at the leaves.
"The Colour Leave."
"Hmm."
"This egg is better than a nutrition bar."
"Of course it's better than a nutrition bar."
"No." Yachiyo shakes his head, "It's better than a nutrition stick. The taster module is 70% accurate, but the egg tastes better than I expected."
Leaves down and eat their own fried eggs.
"It's delicious." Yachiyo said again, "It's light."
The leaf swallows the eggs in the mouth.
"I'll do it every day." She said.
Yachiyo heads up.
"Every day?"
Every day.”
Every day." Yachiyo repeated it and laughed.
"The leaves." Yachiyo said, "What do we do today?"
"Sniffing module and tear glands."
"Build it."
The leaf thought about it. She looked out the window. In the morning, Tokyo was spread outside the laboratory window, grey and white and a little cold blue left over from winter.
"Get out."
Yachiyo put down the fork.
"Get out?"
“You haven't been out of this building. The body has not yet walked through the streets of Tokyo."
Yachiyo stood up from the chair, went around the table to the coloured leaves, crouched down, put his hands on the knees of the coloured leaves and looked at her face. The eyes of Yachiyo were very shallow amber in the morning light, and were so clear in the whitery of the face that the blonde fell from his shoulder and leaned on the knees of the coloured leaves.
"Eat leaves take me."
"Hmm."
"The leaves hold my hand."
"Hmm."
"Don't let go."
The coloured leaf heads down and looks at Yachiyo's hand on his knee. The fingers are long and the nails are painted with nail polish.
"Don't let go." The leaf says.
Yachiyo put his face on the coloured knees and tumbled. The fabric with the cheeks attached to the pants was pressed on the coloured knees, in a warm and soft piece. Blonde on the legs of the coloured leaves, like a thin, warm light.
The coloured leaves put their hands on her head and rubbed them.
"Colour leaves." Yachiyo's voice suffocated in the knees of the leaf, "Eight00 years, I sometimes wonder what to do when I see the leaf. Think a lot, shake hands, hug, walk together, eat together, sleep together. I've been thinking about it a lot."
She looked up.
"Not once did I think of this morning." She said, “The kitchen of the coloured leaves, a bit of an egg, an expired milk, a painful look at the waist of the coloured leaves, which said that they were cooking every day. I never thought of that. It's better than what I thought."
The coloured knobs were pulled from Yachiyo's head and stood up.
"I'll go wash the dishes." She said.
Yachiyo was also crouched on the ground: "The Colour Leave."
The colour leaves go to the pool and open the tap. From behind, Yachiyo put his chin on her shoulder with her arms around her waist. The colored leaves felt Yachiyo's chest on his back, his chin on his shoulder and her blond hair on her ear.
"The Colour Leave."
"Hmm."
"The leaves are shy."
“No.”
"The ears of the colour leaves are red."
"The water is too hot."
"The hot water is on the left, and the colour leaves are cold water."
Turn around. Yachiyo's face is in front of him, glamorous and soft, and in the light of the kitchen.
"Yachiyo" says.
"Hmm?"
"You hold me, I can't concentrate on the dishes."
Yachiyo unwinded, the colour leaves relieved and turned around and continued to wash dishes.
A little melody came along, and Yachiyo was humming the song that was live last night.
The leaf washes the dishes and listens to that humming. She remembered seeing Yachiyo live for the first time on the night of the month, when she thought she only liked a virtual anchor.
She looked down at her hands in the pool.
"Colour leaves." Yachiyo called her in the back.
"Hmm."
"I like colour leaves."
Color leaves off the tap. Quiet in the kitchen.
"I know." She said. It's a little boring.
"The leaf hasn't said."
"Say what."
"Say like me."
Dry your hands. Turn around. Yachiyo stood in front of the kitchen and was relaxed, but the colored leaves noticed that her fingers were nuanced on her side.
"like." Says the leaf.
Yachiyo's smile opened.
Following the installation of a smell module and tear glands for Yachiyo in the laboratory, the two men changed their clothes to prepare to leave.
"Let's go." The leaf picks up the coat.
Yachiyo, come on, hand over, hand over. Color leaves put their hands in. The fingers were close, heated and soft, and the blonde fell from the shoulder of Yachiyo and fell on the hands of two people.
Yachiyo held on a little bit, but the leaf didn't have a hand.
The door was closed behind them. The streets of Tokyo are open in the morning light, long, many forks, many pedestrians. For the first time, Yachiyo walked next to the coloured leaves and stepped on the ground outside the house with a body of philosophies, with a skin almost white in the winter air, with a blond hair blown up and a small, warm flag on the grey streets. The colour leaves felt a slight tightening of their hands.
"Colour leaves." The voice of Yachiyo is a little unstable.
"I'm not good at walking."
Color leaves hold her hand tight.
"Slowly." She said.
Yachiyo looked over her head.
The colour leaves lead to Yachiyo, one step forward and another. Yachiyo's footsteps were on the side, a little bit of a tarp of an ankle that was not fixed, and step by step on the tar road in Tokyo.
Eight thousand. The colour leaves in the mind. In exchange for a hand-walking morning.
"The Colour Leave."
"Hmm."
"Tomorrow, too."
"Tomorrow."
"The Colour Leave."
"Go out tomorrow, too."
Yachiyo laughed. In the winter wind, real, warm. The leaves held her and walked to the subway without loose hands.
