Moe Girl Touch: Advance

Hana smiled. “Then I guess you’d better come in and wait for the rain to stop.”

“Thank you,” Hana whispered.

“Will you be okay getting back?” Hana asked, her voice suddenly rough. Moe girl touch advance

“Here,” the girl said, and before Hana could protest, she had shrugged off her own dry cardigan. It was soft, pink, and smelled faintly of vanilla.

The rain was a persistent, misty drizzle, the kind that soaked you through patience rather than volume. Hana Sato huddled under the awning of a closed bookstore, her school bag clutched to her chest like a shield. She was late, her phone was dead, and her carefully drawn map of the neighborhood had turned into a blue, watery blur. Hana smiled

They stood there, under the umbrella, not moving toward the door. Hana was still holding Yuki’s shoulder. Yuki was still leaning into her.

A strong gust of wind tore down the alley, whipping the rain sideways. Yuki yelped as the umbrella jerked in her hand. Without thinking, Hana reached out and steadied her, her hand coming to rest on Yuki’s shoulder. “Here,” the girl said, and before Hana could

“Hana.”