Pictures of the Past

The Idea just won’t leave my mind. I’m so sorry. It just… it’s killing me. I really mean it. It’s like this small virus that started out with Connected by Umi Amano and proceeded to She’s Inaho and now, Pictures of the Past. And I’m also finishing Little Brothers.

Ugh! I’m really fired up about Inaho-san. And I also got this inspiration to write about those in the background. Little Brothers, my new fic, is about Tsutsumi and Inaho having a talk about their Little Brothers.

Golly gosh! I’m sorry!!

Disclaimer: I own nothing in this fic except for the idea and the short background. Inaho, Sylvan and practically the rest of the crew belongs to Yakitate! Japan creators.

Pictures of the Past

An Inaho and Sylvan Story

Inaho Azuma was polishing her prized motorbike, slowly and gently and quite unlike the impulsive woman she really is. Cleaning Tetsuko # 3 has always helped her think. It gave her this inner peace of sorts that people would get by meditating under a gushing waterfalls or something alike.

And currently, Inaho needs to think.

Big Time.

Her brother and his friends had stayed with them for a day in Gifu. He had just won that big time match that was shown nationwide in the TV. He had only spend the rest of the day with them for a while and baked them the bread that had just won him and his team the biggest Bakery in Japan.

But that’s not what’s disturbing her mind. It was nice seeing her brother again in personal, yes. She really missed him. Seeing his face on the TV and the newspaper really isn’t the same as in personal.

And darnit, she really missed that damn Bread addict of a brother of hers.

Annoying or not, she really does.

But that was not why she was in the secluded part of their home, wiping non-existent dirt on her precious baby. It was just… just something she can’t understand. There was something wrong with her, she knew that. Ever since her brother’s battle with this blonde lady-lookalike guy with a mask, she’s got this niggling feeling, like an itch between her shoulder blades that she just can’t reach.

She did not like that feeling. No sir, she sure doesn’t.

She was sure she knew him. Perhaps he was someone from her past. But with that damn mask getting in the way, she just can’t be so dang sure.

Inaho stood, clenching the rag she was using to wipe Tetsuko # 3 and thought back to that time he stood next to her brother – near her – after the match. He congratulated Kazuma on his win, letting his smooth voice resonate her ears. She had stood on the side, forcing a grin on her face as she tried to stop herself from stomping to where that guy was and snatching his damn mask from his face and to see what is hidden there.

She really needs to figure out who that damn man is.

With fervor, she threw the rag on the ground and got on her bike. She grabbed the helmet strapped onto the handle and with a kick of her feet, drove at her starting speed, 85 km/h. Aside from cleaning her Tetsuko # 3 and spending time with it, driving around calms her down and helps her think.

It was one of the reasons why people look at h strangely and sees her as reckless. She loves the feel of the win brushing her skin, the thrill of the fast ride and the danger of it all.

And now she just proved that she really is a basketcase.

She had done one lap around the fields before returning home and lying perfectly still underneath the kotatsu in their home. For once, she wasn’t in the mood for riding. That damn person, whoever he is, is destroying her perfectly balanced speedy life. She has to know who he is, why his very presence irks her, and what his role in her past is.