Haru woke up at noon.
At the worst possible moment.
Not for him, of course. The Saint had just entered the stable, and the first thing he saw was Haru waking up from a particularly comfortable nap.
In his hand, he carried a tray of food from the cafeteria. It was almost as if he'd known Haru hadn't eaten lunch and had predicted he'd find him in exactly that situation: waking up peacefully, without the slightest sign of having carried out his punishment.
Haru looked at him.
The Saint looked at Haru.
Haru looked at the tray.
'Shit.'
His first idea was to pretend he was working. Maybe grab a bucket, a broom, or anything else that could serve as evidence of his dedication to cleaning the stables.
But that would only make things worse. It would look like a desperate attempt to cover up the fact that he hadn't done a single thing.
'No.' He needed a better strategy.
And at that moment, Haru decided to turn to what the Japanese did best.
