I heard that you fell in love or near enough

Anju

The knife twists at the thought
that I should fall short of the mark

People often believe Anju is not keen-eyed when it comes to emotion given she is so careful and particular with her own, but that has never been the case. Koa in particular is familiar to her, having watched him grow from a gangly pre-teen to a young man. She can tell when he is hurting. Often, she can parse why. When he'd opened the door his misery had been a mystery, but as she sits at the table she knows that right now their grief has a shared name.

She gives him the privacy of his sorrow, and wonders - as she always does - if that is the right thing to do.

"No ma'am in the house, Koa," she reminds him with a phrase that's practically rote, no matter how much time has passed. It makes her lips twitch in a small smile, helping ease away the hurt a little. As does the loving moniker he uses - a title she doesn't feel she has lived up to since the war. "I'm sorry for that," she murmurs, her frown self-deprecating and severe. This shouldn't be her first time back. But that's why she has to do this, take care of Koa the way Mahina would have now that she's gone. Atone for her mistakes, her absent-minded, isolating manner of grieving.

"I'm worried about you." This, at least, is mildly rehearsed as she lifts her intense gaze to him, softened only by the furrow of her brows. "Something happened, I can tell, but I haven't been able to figure out what." It hasn't been anything official, or she would have approached him as Captain instead of aunt. "I won't force you to tell me. You know that. But I do have a proposition for you if you will hear me out." She is always careful not to make it a command, artfully changing roles in a way she has mastered over the years to never take advantage of the power she wields.

You're frightened by my bite
though it's no harsher than my bark