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Chapter Text

Climbing up the stairs to the house, her shoes pinching the back of her heels, Shoko wonders why she ever let Satoru scam her into a Happily Ever After. The house and car are nice, and the cute kids make it all worth it, but sometimes, Shoko would just like to come home at the end of a long day and know that she won’t have to do more emotional labor. She misses the days of being able to take her bra and shoes off at the door, drink wine out of the bottle and lie in bed watching cooking videos on her phone. It was an easy life, the one she led in her twenties.

Shoko unlocks the door and steps in. She steps out of her heels, before setting her purse down and taking off her coat. She hears the television, Yuji and Kirie’s voices carrying throughout the house, the ping of the microwave. Shoko pads down the hall, following the noises coming from the back room.

When she steps into the room, it’s as peaceful as can be expected: Yuji is hoisting Kirie up above his head while she squeals and flaps her little arms and legs; Nobara is fussing with Tomie’s hair, bobby pins in her mouth, while Tomie sits there, watching television. And Seiya, sweet baby Seiya, her little son and first baby, is curled up on the couch, unusually quiet. His face is scrunched in a frown, and he doesn’t look up to greet her, even though he’s usually waiting for her at the door.

“Hi,” Shoko says softly, “am I interrupting?”

“No!” Yuji shouts, turning his head to look at her. Kirie copies him, shouting and smiling at Shoko, wiggling in the air. Nobara turns and smiles, saying hello while Tomie just waves, not looking away from the television.

Seiya doesn’t even move his head. Shoko frowns to herself, and walks over to the couch, as Megumi walks in, holding a heated bean bag wrapped in a tea towel. Shoko gets to Seiya first, hoisting him up into her arms. He rests his face in her neck, and Shoko feels him rub his nose against her, his little sniffles. She turns to look at Megumi, who has this impassive expression on his face.

“He said he hurts,” he says. Shoko holds Seiya a little closer.

“You hurt?” she asks, talking right into his ear. He turns his head away, rubbing his nose across her collarbone, all over her cashmere sweater. He mumbles something, but she can’t hear it over the television, Nobara, Yuji, and Kirie. “Seiya?”

“Yeah,” he says in a soft voice. Shoko smiles and holds her hand out for the heating pad. It’s Seiya’s favorite thing in the world. Most children have teddy bears or blankets, but Seiya just likes a large maroon bean bag. She warms it up for him before bed in the winter, but he always sleeps with it. She places the bean bag between them, so it’s against Seiya’s tummy. He sighs a little, and she hugs him tighter.

“Thank you,” she says to Megumi, “you three are a huge help.” Satoru has never given any of them a straight answer as to how Megumi ended up in his life. One day, Satoru just started bringing this little kid with a sullen look on his face around and declared him to be his protégé. Us polymaths have to stick together! Kento said that Satoru was just looking to corrupt the youth, but Suguru maintained that he is probably the only person he knows cut out to teach.

Anyways, Megumi never really seemed to like Satoru let alone learn anything, but nonetheless he’d let Satoru take him places and teach him all the strange and complex mathematic principles that none of them could keep up with. It seemed like Satoru was looking for more of a friend who could talk about the same things as him than a student. Megumi didn’t really seem to seem to want anything to do with Satoru, in all honesty, but then again, most people react that way to him.

With Megumi, eventually came Yuji and Nobara, and when Satoru convinced Shoko to try parenthood, his greatest scam of all, he roped the three of them in like they were already members of the family. Some days, it feels like he was assembling them all together and waiting for the right moment to tell them that he had chosen them all and how lucky they ought to feel to have made the final cut.

“It’s fine,” Megumi shrugs, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Do you need anything else?” He looks right at her, in this way that’s a little intense from a guy in his twenties but somehow makes sense from Megumi.

“I don’t think so,” Shoko says, “I was just going to order pizza, honestly. Do you want to stay?”

“Yeah!” Yuji cheers, still holding Kirie aloft. Tomie gives a thumbs up while Nobara cheers with Yuji and Kirie. Seiya presses his face into Shoko, putting his arms around her neck.

“You want pizza?” she asks, talking right into his ear. Seiya doesn’t say anything, but he nods. She turns to Megumi, “and you’ll stay too?”

“Yeah,” he says, “I’ll stay for dinner.” Seiya looks over and smiles at Megumi, and he holds his hand up and wiggles his little fingers, which is something he saves for just him.

**

“You sure that you’re okay?” Utahime asks, staring right into the screen. She looks nice. She has curled her lashes and is wearing mascara and blush, some lip balm on her lips. She’s clearly undressed and sitting on the toilet of her hotel bathroom. Shoko doesn’t know where Suguru is. Knowing him, he’s probably getting ready in the other room.

Utahime and Suguru went to Hokkaido for his book tour, and then Shoko insisted that they take another week while out there, just to enjoy a vacation. Tomie is a nice kid, and besides, it’s not like they ever get time to themselves.

“Of course,” Shoko says, opening a can of beer. The kids are watching a movie in the other room. Normally she’d make them sit at the table but since Yuji and Nobara are here, she let them watch a movie. Last time she checked, Yuji was wedged between Kirie and Tomie on one end of the couch, Seiya slumped next to Megumi. Nobara sits on the floor, sipping on a soda. Shoko is taking the opportunity to call Utahime and give her an update. “Tomie is great. Perfect. An angel.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Utahime beams. It’s a point of pride that Tomie is such a good kid. Met every milestone early, never cries at needles, and eats her vegetables with no complaint. Utahime talks about her with this awe in her voice that makes Shoko question if she compares as a mother.

“How’s Hokkaido?”

“Oh, it’s going well,” Utahime says, “We’re in Sapporo for the next few days. Suguru gave a lecture in an English class at Hokkaido University, and I spoke to an undergraduate student about poetry—her thesis supervisor is the professor for the class Suguru spoke to. Kamo sent me his manuscript this morning, and I’ve been reading it while Suguru does his interviews and dazzles his groupies—”

“They’re readers!” Suguru shouts from the next room. Utahime smiles as she looks away up, away from Shoko at the door.

“He’s mad because I joked about all the college girls who tell him that they love his essays, that he’s such a feminist, and that they’re citing an essay of his in their undergraduate thesis because he’s so smart—”

“And you’re sitting there laughing?” Shoko says, “I don’t buy it for a second.”

Utahime makes a face. She’s not super jealous but neither is Utahime entirely okay with college girls throwing themselves at Suguru. They’re young and don’t know that the idealized version of him that they fantasize about doesn’t really exist, that he’s just a normal guy who likes to watch dumb television shows and forgets to empty the dishwasher. Personally, Shoko thinks Utahime’s fan girls are weirder, because they want to be Utahime. They send letters and emails oversharing, which Utahime is mostly flattered by, but some are definitely a little unhinged. Shoko and Satoru discussed this, and they agree that it’s stranger for someone to want to make themselves in your image over fucking you.

“It is entertaining, in small doses,” Utahime says, “anyways, we’re trying this restaurant suggested by another professor in the Letters Department. It’s a robata restaurant—you know, where the customers sit at a bar around the grill? Apparently this one has great seafood.”

“Mhmm,” Shoko hums, sipping her beer. Suddenly, that half slice of pizza she ate seems very sad. She wants Satoru to take her somewhere nice when he comes back.

“I bet Tomie would love it,” Utahime sighs, “but she’s probably having more fun with you.”

“It’s hard to say with her,” Shoko says. Tomie is pretty quiet and unbothered by everything, which is to say, it’s hard to know when she is happy just as much as it is to know when she’s upset. She likes Seiya and Kirie enough, but she only really seems to light up with her parents.

“She’d get tired and grumpy from having to sit around all the time,” Utahime says, “thanks for taking her.”

“It’s really no problem,” Shoko says, “I’m glad that you two got something resembling a vacation.”

As if on cue, Tomie walks into the kitchen with her plate, her hair all braided up across her head, arranged like a crown. The glittery hairclips that Satoru buys for Kirie that she never wears are in there, like she’s an actual fairy princess. Tomie walks to the counter and steps onto the stepping stool beside Shoko. She is an example of a kid who is a perfect split between their parents (unlike Shoko's own children—Seiya looks just like Satoru, and Kirie looks just like her. Sometimes, people don’t believe Shoko when she says that Seiya is hers, he takes so much after Satoru). Tomie looks up with an impassive expression, blinking with Utahime’s eyes.

“Who’re you talking to?” she asks. Shoko smiles, winking at Utahime. Utahime gets up and walks around, presumably to find Suguru.

“Your mommy,” she says, looking at the screen and smiling at the expression on Utahime’s face. “Do you want to talk to her?”

“No thanks,” Tomie says, “I’m busy.” She hops off the stool and walks back out to the living room. Shoko just blinks, while she hears Suguru start laughing. She turns back to the phone, and Utahime looks crushed.

“Did she really say that?”

“Yes, she did,” Shoko says, “she reminds me of you.” Utahime is just as dismissive, when she has an agenda. Utahime makes a face, while Shoko hears Suguru laughing.

“I am not like that.”

“Yes, you are,” Suguru says, “come on, don’t take it so personally. It means she’s like you. I like it.”

“Are you kidding me?” Utahime says, her voice shrill. Shoko smiles to herself, wondering how Suguru will finesse his way out of this one.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” Shoko says, pressing the red button to end the call. She takes a sip of her beer and sets it onto the counter, beside her phone, before standing up and going out to the living room. She walks to the couch and leans over Megumi to pick Seiya up, sitting down with him on the big armchair she wouldn’t let Satoru get rid of when they moved in together.

Seiya curls up into her, like he did when he was a little baby, pressing his pudgy cheek to her shoulder, not even a little interested in the movie. He looks just like Satoru does when he’s sick. His cheeks puff up and he gets this sad look in his eyes, like he has lost his last friend in the world. If she could, Shoko would take all the pain out of him, because that’s the kind of self-sacrifice that defines motherhood. Shoko leans back against the chair, holding him the way that a mother is supposed to, with all the love in her body.

**

The kids are all in bed, Seiya with his warm beanbag and a sippy cup of water, Kirie and Tomie tucked into the same bed because Kirie insists, and Tomie doesn’t like being in the guestroom alone. Lying on her side, comforter pulled over her head, Shoko calls Satoru. He prefers video calls, but it’s late and she just wants to hear his voice. She tells him that he scammed her into this life, but that’s not the truth. Shoko chose to be here, and she’s glad for it. That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t sometimes frown and ask her if that’s how it really is, her thinking that he’s just running a scam on her. She reassures him, always, but he still gets a little sensitive about it—he’s the one who asked for children, and she supposes that maybe he wonders if he was too pushy.

“Hey,” he says, picking up on the third ring. “I’m about to meet with this really beautiful woman from the meeting today, so as you know, the last thing I need is to be reminded of my partner and children, or I may actually cheat this time.”

“You’re always free to a good home,” Shoko replies coolly. “I’d link up with Suguru and Utahime and be their third. You wouldn’t have to acknowledge me or the kids ever again.” Satoru wheezes on his end of the line, and Shoko smiles.

“Utahime doesn’t share,” Satoru replies, “you’re delusional to think otherwise.”

“They could share me,” Shoko replies, “I’d never make her feel left out during our threesomes. I’d even agree to just touch her, if that’s what she wanted. I’m a good person like that.”

“You’ve put a lot of thought into your exit strategy.”

“Well, the guy I shacked up with has lots of opportunities to cheat, so I have to.” She rolls onto her back. “But I’d still miss him.”

“Still miss him?” Satoru says in a soft voice. Shoko nods, even though he isn’t there.

“Absolutely.” She dicks him around, but at the end of the day, this is where she wants to be.

“I think he’d be pretty sad without you too,” he says, “and the woman is really pretty, but she’s most definitely a lesbian, so he never had a chance anyway.” They’ve never said, ‘I love you,’ because it feels redundant, after being in each other’s lives for years and having two kids together. They’re too busy to contemplate the obvious.

“I’m glad to hear it,” she replies, “anyway, how are you?”

“Bored,” he sighs, “it’s just a dumb business thing, I don’t even need to be here. I think I’m just here so that my boss doesn’t jump from the roof of the hotel.”

“That bad?”

“Shoko, imagine Mei Mei’s greed, Kento’s self-hatred and Kiyotaka’s anxiety all manifesting together,” Satoru says, “that’s the kind of person my boss is dealing with.”

“That sounds terrible.”

“Yeah,” he hums, “but anyways, how’re the kids?” Satoru had been genuinely sad to be called away this week. He was going to go to the museum with Seiya and Kirie and look at this new dinosaur exhibit. He pouted a little when Megumi said that he’d go instead and bring Nobara, Yuji, and Tomie. Satoru even complained to Shoko when he got pictures of the outing. It was supposed to be me!

“I think Seiya is getting sick,” Shoko says, “but Kirie and Tomie are both fine.”

“Poor guy.”

“He’s just like you when he gets sick—gets all floppy and droopy, sniffles, the whole bit.”

“I don’t know if I like your tone lady,” Satoru says, clearly joking. Shoko opens her mouth to say something, when the bed shifts and a little hand prods her back.

“Hold on,” Shoko says, dropping her phone. pushing the blanket off and sitting up. Kirie is next to her, looking up at her with eyes too big for her little face.

“What is it?” Shoko asks, Satoru still babbling on the phone. Kirie blows some spit bubbles, before climbing over Shoko’s lap.

“Seiya needs more water.”

“Why?” Shoko asks. Kirie smiles.

“I drank it all up,” she says in this breathy, whispery voice, grinning. Seiya may be the older child, but Kirie is the boss. Shoko frowns.

“But he’s sick!” Shoko says, watching Kirie pick up her phone, ignoring her.

“Hello!” Kirie calls into the phone, holding it in both of her little hands. She kicks out her little legs with delight when Satoru responds. Shoko frowns and stands up, deciding to go to Seiya’s room to see how he’s doing. Before she puts on her robe, she coaxes Kirie to give the phone back, hanging up on Satoru before pulling out the iPad that they bought for the kids, to keep their dirty pictures and important contacts safe from little eyes and fingers. Almost immediately, Satoru calls again, and she lets Kirie answer the call. She doesn’t even know what Satoru and Kirie talk about half the time—they just like talking to each other. They’re probably scheming.

Tomie wanders into the room as Shoko leaves, climbing onto the bed next to Kirie. She listens to Satoru exclaim out loud when Tomie comes into view, before rolling her eyes and leaving the room. She walks down the hall, pushing open the door to Seiya’s room. The light is on, and he’s lying down, eyes open, this sad look on his face. Shoko sighs, sitting down on the bed.

“Hey,” she asks, leaning down. “How are you feeling?”

“Bad,” he says rolling onto his back. His cheeks look especially red and blotchy, even though he hasn’t been crying. Shoko leans down, pushing his hair out of his face, frowning at a rash all across his forehead, little red bumps, and as she runs her thumb over them, she feels how warm he is.

“Sit up please,” she says, pulling his pajama shirt off when he does. There are little red bumps all across his chest, that most definitely are the first stages of the chickenpox. He was scheduled for his booster next week, which is when Kirie is supposed to get her first dose. Tomie was fully vaccinated a month ago, so she’ll be fine, and Shoko had it as a little girl. Shoko blinks, before she realizes that Kirie has most definitely come into contact with Seiya’s saliva, and she isn’t vaccinated at all.

“Oh fuck,” she says softly. Seiya flops back down onto the bed, while Shoko realizes what the next two weeks are going to look like.

**

Both of her children are blessings from the universe and there is absolutely nothing Shoko would change about either of them, but she can admit that they aren’t the best behaved. Seiya once pooped on the floor when Kirie was a small baby because he wasn’t getting attention, and Kirie has been up to no good since she tore Shoko apart. That said, it always feels strange for her babies to no longer always be with her, and they’ll always be those little people that she held close. Utahime said that having a baby is like living with all her vital organs outside of her body, in the sense that life probably wouldn’t be worth living if something happened to Tomie. Shoko completely understands what she meant.

Shoko is lying on her side, face pressed into the pillow. Kirie is sleeping next to her, across Satoru’s pillow, while Seiya is tucked up right against her stomach. Tomie is on Seiya’s other side, since she probably didn’t want to be alone. In all honesty, it’s hard to sleep with them all right here, since Seiya and Kirie both move around a lot in their sleep, and three little kids take up a surprising amount of space.

When it’s clear to her that she won’t be going back to sleep, Shoko sighs and sits up on her elbow. Seiya wheezes in his sleep, rolling onto his back, the maroon beanbag on his stomach. Shoko smiles down at him, pushing his hair out of his face. The spots look angrier than they did last night. Kirie insisted on staying here, and since she has already been exposed, Shoko figures that it’s fine. If she has done the math right and Kirie’s first exposure was Seiya, then the earliest she could get a rash would be when Satoru gets back in ten days, and by then, Seiya should be more or less better. Tomie is fully vaccinated, and therefore, should be fine (granted, Seiya was supposed to be fine, but Suguru was the one who made it out of childhood without any significant injury or illness, while Shoko broke her arm when she was five and Satoru got pneumonia at seven, so she figures that luck is on Tomie’s side).

“Baby,” she sighs to herself, before getting out of bed. She looks over to Kirie, who is frowning in her sleep. Shoko reaches to place her hand on her forehead, sighing again when she feels how warm she is. “Oh no,” she says softly, “fuck.”

Suddenly, the next ten days look a whole lot worse than they did a minute ago.

Chapter Text

By mid-afternoon, Kirie is completely droopy, and the next day, she begins to develop a rash. Shoko is completely beside herself, since Kirie, who is normally independent, gets clingy when she’s sick. So, Shoko is always carrying her on her hip, while she’s trying to treat Seiya’s symptoms. While Seiya and Kirie keep scratching, whining, and being all around miserable, Tomie remains stoic. Like Suguru, she doesn’t let on how she really feels when the rubber hits the road and life blows up (Utahime, however, is an entirely different story—she’s quick to get angry over things like parking tickets and her favorite chips not being the supermarket, convinced that the universe itself is persecuting her).

Even worse, Megumi called, saying that Yuji, who apparently has never had the chickenpox before, is also sick. Shoko sighed, told him to just bring Yuji over. He also looks terrible, spots all over his face, lethargic, aching more than the kids.

They’re all in the living room. Yuji is lying, stomach down, on the couch. Seiya and Kirie are on top of his back, while Megumi tries to hold Kirie down, so Shoko can slather her with calamine lotion. Megumi is frowning, because every time he pins down one of Kirie’s little arms, she moves to kick him in the face. Seiya was a little more cooperative, but he wrinkled his nose and made a face at the smell. Yuji, of course, did it for himself because he’s an adult who can be reasoned with.

“Hold still,” Megumi grunts. Kirie spits at him, and he dodges just in time, her saliva landing on his shoulder instead of on his face. “Really?”

“Uh huh,” Kirie nods, kicking out with her other leg. Shoko grabs it, pining it down.

“Can you be a little more gentle?” Yuji asks, grimacing.

“Not if Kirie won’t cooperate,” Megumi grumbles. Tomie, who is watching a movie, turns up the volume, passively expressing her annoyance with Kirie’s tantrum.

“No,” Kirie shouts, “no, no, no.”

“Kirie,” Shoko says softly, “if you relax, this will be all done in a minute—” Letting go of her leg, Shoko holds up the bottle of lotion to get some to apply. Kirie stops flailing, and Megumi relaxes a little, as a reward.

In that moment, Kirie seizes her chance, twisting free of Megumi’s grip, sitting up, and knocking the open bottle of calamine lotion from Shoko’s hand. It hits the back of Yuji’s head, making him squeak, before it falls to the floor. There are several puddles of pink lotion, and a blob on the back of Yuji’s neck.

Kirie rolls away, onto Seiya, right over him before pushing him forward, wedging herself between his back and the couch. Shoko blinks at the puddles, kneeling to look at them, like she doesn’t believe that it really happened. Not even Satoru is this difficult when he’s sick, and he once drove around the block for an hour to avoid taking cough syrup.

“No,” Kirie whimpers, curling up behind Seiya, who is pressing back into her, helping her hide. Shoko turns to look at her daughter, feeling terrible about the sad look on her little face, knowing that she put it there, even though it was for her own good. She stands up, walking around Megumi, who still looks surprised that Kirie really did that, to reach behind Seiya and pull Kirie out of hiding. Shoko embraces her, bringing her close, Kirie relaxing against her.

“I’m sorry,” Shoko says, “it’s just how things are going to be until you’re better.”

Kirie just starts crying softly, and Shoko sighs, pressing her mouth to the side of her little head, rubbing her back. Tomie turns down the volume of the television, and when Shoko turns around, Megumi has already disappeared to find some paper towels, and Seiya is sprawled out across Yuji’s back, blanket pulled up to his chin, while Yuji is rubbing the lotion into his neck.

Yep, this week is going to suck.

**

“No!” Kirie screams, kicking her arms and legs up and down, her face in Shoko’s pillow. “No, no, no, no, no!” She’s yelling like she’s on fire, and whenever Megumi or Shoko reach over to grab her, she rolls away, kicking and screaming, like she is about to be tortured.

Kirie is itchy, in pain, and even more tired of the baths and lotions and being told not to scratch. She pouted when Shoko cut her fingernails and get angry when she realized that she couldn’t scratch anymore. Shoko has been trying, for half an hour, to get her into a bath. Kirie has no interest in cooperating. She pulled the socks off her hands and threw them away, and she screams like she is being burned when Shoko touches her.

“Hey,” Shoko says, “c’mon, you’ll feel better—”

“No, no, no!” Kirie screams into the pillow, before collapsing and sobbing. Shoko strokes the back of her head, and Kirie just sobs harder.

“I’m sorry,” Shoko mutters, “I’m really sorry.”

The bed dips, and Shoko looks over her shoulder. Tomie climbs up onto the bed, crawling on all fours to lie down beside Kirie. She stares at the side of her face, before touching Kirie’s shoulder. Kirie turns to look over at her, her eyes big and full of tears. Tomie blinks, frowning.

“Take a bath.”

“No,” Kirie mutters, “no, I don’t want to, no.” Tomie starts stroking Kirie’s back, while Kirie cries quietly, flopping. It reminds Shoko of when Satoru would get drunk and go into monster mode, before he quit drinking, and Suguru would have to comfort him. Satoru actually cried on Shoko’s lap once, and Suguru had to pat his back until they got to their subway stop.

Shoko leans forward and scoops Kirie up into her arms. Kirie, wilted, looks up at Shoko, her eyes too big for her little face, mouth all twisted and sad, making Shoko’s heart hurt, even though it’s Satoru’s drunk crying face and therefore, is kind of funny to see on a little kid.

“I don’t want a bath,” Kirie says, crossing her arms. Shoko pushes a lock of hair behind her ear.

“It’ll make you feel better,” Shoko says, standing up. Kirie flops in her arms, lower lip trembling.

Shoko isn’t entirely surprised that she’s like this. Kirie hates when people brush her hair and has always hated bath time, has since she was a little baby, screaming and crying when she was only a few days old and started to smell funny. She’s good enough for Satoru, but that’s because nothing she does fazes him. He just laughs and soon Kirie starts laughing too, even if she doesn’t want to. Not exactly a daddy’s girl, more so that Satoru just understands her. Sometimes, Shoko’s a little insecure about it, like, what if Kirie tells Satoru everything first? It’d break her heart if he found out about Kirie’s first crush—he already was the person who first heard her talk (she said a bad word and when Shoko walked into the room, Satoru was laughing so hard that he was crying, and Kirie just kept on saying it). Which is all to say, Shoko is a little jealous that Kirie clearly loves Satoru best of everyone, since she doesn’t behave for Shoko and regularly stomps all over Seiya and his feelings.

She readjusts her hold, so that Kirie is slumped against her, face pressed to her neck, her little arms holding onto Shoko as she walks to the bathroom.

“I’m sorry that it hurts,” she says quietly, “this will make you feel better, I promise.”

“I hate you,” Kirie murmurs. Shoko smiles to herself, since Satoru actually once said this to her, when they were eighteen and she and Suguru accidentally got him so high that he claimed to see sounds and hear colors, and was near catatonic, even drooled all over himself.

“It’s okay,” she says, opening the door to the bathroom, kneeling, setting Kirie down before checking the temperature of the water. She’s relieved that it’s still warm.

**

Let’s get one thing clear: generally speaking, Megumi doesn’t really like kids. They’re messy and hard to predict. They don’t seem to be good at listening and they all have some weird quirk or ritual that makes no sense—sandwiches have to be cut a certain way, doors always open slightly ajar, lights always on, one special object that they must always have in sight. In short, kids are annoying.

That said, Megumi likes particular kids. Tomie minds her business and Seiya is pretty sweet. Kirie is demonic but even she’s kind of cute, and besides, she only likes Yuji, so Megumi rarely deals with her directly. True, this week, they’ve all been acting out, but Seiya and Kirie are sick, so it’s to be expected, and honestly, Yuji is the most pathetic one, since he’s an adult with the chickenpox who has, several times, tried to take too much over-the-counter painkillers, so many that Megumi actually had to take the bottle from him and hide it, and then scold him when Yuji tried to talk Nobara into getting him more. It’s just the chickenpox! Megumi actually had his hands on his hips, like he’s Yuji’s mom or something. But I’m so itchy! Yuji whined, and if Seiya and Kirie hadn’t been lying on the couch with him, Megumi may just have slapped him.

They’re all in the kitchen, except Shoko, who is upstairs, sleeping. Megumi is working remotely, so he can help her out. Yuji is off sick and Nobara comes between her shifts at a beauty store, even though she doesn’t have the personality for sales. She insists on cooking too, which, well, to be honest, is awful. Seiya, Kirie, and Yuji aren’t even that hungry but Megumi and Tomie don’t have an excuse (if Nobara believed in their excuses—she insists that they all need to eat, which is true, but no one should have to eat whatever she’s trying to make). Seiya keeps asking Megumi if she hates them all, and he doesn’t have the heart to break the truth, which is that Nobara’s love hurts. It really, really hurts.

Tomie is taking the fewest sips of soup possible, while Kirie pokes at a piece of chicken, frowning. Yuji has a blanket over his head, ignoring the soup. Seiya is just sipping on a juice box, with this angry look on his face. Megumi keeps stirring his soup, while Nobara is frowning at all of them. She, of course, only made enough for the five of them, and therefore, is eating a rice ball she bought at the store when she was getting ingredients. “Why aren’t any of you eating?”

Megumi expects an awkward silence, but instead, Seiya sets his juice down and flips his bowl of soup, right over.

Chicken, root vegetables, all over the table. Megumi watches as the broth creeps closer to him, the puddle spreading out.

“Why did you do that!” Nobara asks, standing up, throwing her rice ball down. Kirie picks up a piece of chicken that ended up beside her, and tosses it away, like its mere presence offends her. It lands near Tomie, who frowns a little but otherwise says nothing. Some broth begins to drip onto the floor.

“It tastes bad,” Seiya says, crossing his arms. Yuji and Megumi both make eye contact at the same time, since they know how sensitive Nobara’s ego can be. One time, she cried when she was dumped, not because she was sad but because she thought her ex-boyfriend was uglier than her and was upset that he beat her to the punch.

Before she can say anything, Yuji steps in. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it!” he says, “he’s just sick, plus he’s just a little kid—”

“Yes,” Megumi says, “Seiya is just a kid. Don’t listen to him.” They both look up at Nobara, expecting her to look calmer, but instead, she looks angrier.

“Why have neither of you said that it tastes good?” she asks, a blood vessel in her forehead popping out. Megumi curses himself for not thinking it through fully, while Yuji does something worse—he tries to tell a half-truth.

“It’s got a unique flavor!” Yuji says, “you know, I’ve never tasted anything like it—”

“But does it taste good?!” Nobara shouts, leaning forward to get in Yuji’s face. Yuji, of course, cringes and pulls his blanket tighter around his face to look more sympathetic, but Nobara still looks pissed. Tomie, Seiya, and Kirie all look at Megumi, clearly expecting him to step in.

“Nobara, maybe we should have this conversation away from the kids—”

“Butt out!” Nobara barks, keeping her focus on Yuji. “So, it doesn’t taste good?”

“Uh—” Yuji says, not coming up with an answer quickly enough. Nobara scowls, and Megumi realizes that he won’t be fast enough.

Nobara takes Yuji’s bowl of soup, and, like a child, dumps it on his head. It has cooled off, so it doesn’t burn, but Yuji yelps anyway. She sets the bowl on his head like a crown, before standing back up straight. She smooths her skirt back down, before turning to Megumi.

“I’ve got a shift, so you’ll have to clean up,” she says, before turning away, picking up her purse and heading towards the front door.

It’s silent until they hear the door slam. Seiya speaks first. “She’s scary.”

“And mean,” Yuji mutters, taking the bowl off his head, setting it back on the table.

“Do we have to keep eating this?” Tomie asks, looking at Megumi. He shakes his head.

“You can stop eating that poison,” he sighs, “we’ll figure something out.” Tomie and Kirie immediately push their bowls away, and he sighs again, because now he’s responsible for three hungry kids and Yuji, plus cleaning up. Fuck you too, Nobara.

**

Yuji has claimed the couch for himself, refusing to move. Megumi is staying in the guestroom, because he refuses to leave Shoko to take care of a grown man and three children. The kids still insist on sleeping in her bed, and Shoko is feeling herself becoming smaller and smaller, like she’ll soon become nothing, a shadow of herself.

She is brushing her teeth, looking at the kids. Tomie is sitting in the middle of Shoko and Satoru’s bed, propped up on the pillows, an open picture book on her lap. Kirie and Seiya are on either side of her. Seiya’s cheek is pressed to her shoulder, while Kirie’s head is cradled in the crook of Tomie’s arm. None of them can read, but Tomie is pointing out the pictures and talking quietly. Shoko can’t quite catch it, because she has a soft voice, but Kirie and Seiya whisper back to her.

It’s easy to tell that Tomie is Suguru and Utahime’s kid, for a few reasons. She’s got their nice, thick hair. She has Utahime’s eyes, Suguru’s smile, and she’s thoughtful and considerate like them. Shoko and Satoru have actually debated who she most looks like. Satoru insists that Tomie gets the same dreamy look on her face that Suguru gets, but Shoko thinks that she delivers a side eye on par with Utahime. The truth is that she’s a perfect mix of both.

Fuck, she’ll probably also have a cult following around her personality, like both of them. She’s got Suguru’s charisma and Utahime’s raw likability. Seiya and Kirie are both pretty funny, in like, a ridiculous slapstick kind of way, but it’s Tomie who delivers the clever one-liners. A calculated No thank you with a blink and shrug is often enough to get a laugh out of everyone, which confuses Tomie because she’s just being herself. Seiya and Kirie don’t even get mad at her for getting attention. Much like Satoru and Shoko were with Suguru, they are under her spell. Tomie says Jump, Seiya and Kirie respond with a How high? The only reason that Shoko and Megumi have been able to wrestle Seiya and Kirie into oatmeal baths and smear calamine lotion onto their rashes and keep them from spitting up food and medication is because Tomie started interfering on Shoko’s behalf. They follow her example, and she frowns when she thinks they’ve been rude, and her approval matters very much, more persuasive than Megumi’s sternest voice or Shoko’s nurturing.

The kids insist on sleeping in her bed. She figures that Seiya and Kirie are just clingy, and that Tomie doesn’t want to sleep alone in an unfamiliar bed. Yuji has taken over the couch, while Megumi is in the guestroom. Nobara goes home every night, which Shoko increasingly appreciates. It’s weird, having the house this full of people for this long. Tribal living makes sense in your twenties, but it loses its charm when you hit thirty.

On her way to the bathroom, Shoko grabs her phone. She spits the toothpaste into the sink, before leaning down and rinsing out her mouth. After, she flosses, and then turns back to the door, locking it. She picks up her phone, sitting on the edge of the tub, and calls Satoru, because she has been blowing off his texts and calls.

“Ah, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Satoru asks, not fully able to cover up the bitterness in his voice. He’s a big baby when he feels ignored.

“I made the time,” she says, “how have you been?”

“Fine,” he says, “dandy, even.”

“Look, I’m sorry,” Shoko sighs, rubbing her face, “it has just been a lot.” She can’t be happy in a world where Seiya and Kirie are miserable, and she’s distracted, like she has lost touch with feeling like a person. She just hasn’t had the emotional energy to talk to anyone else.

“How are they?” Satoru asks, his voice softening. He knows when to back down, and besides, he was just a little grumpy. If he were committed to bitterness, he wouldn’t have answered, and honestly, she would have broken up with him a long time ago.

“They’re feeling a little better,” she says, “but they’re just tired. They’re looking at a book right now.”

“And you?” he asks. Shoko blinks, thinking it over. She doesn’t know how she’s doing. Hasn’t had time to think much about it.

The silence is awkward, and Satoru immediately jumps on it. “I can come back if you need me to.”

“Oh,” she says, “I don’t think so.”

“You can’t even tell me how you’re doing.”

“Well, it’ll be fine,” she says, “Megumi is helping me out, and Yuji and Nobara are around too.”

“That’s like having another three kids,” Satoru says, grunting on the phone, like he’s rolling on his stomach to get something. “Here, I’ll look at flights—”

“No,” she says, “it’s fine.” The doorknob rattles, followed by a little knock at the door. It’s Seiya’s knock, a distinct and even tap, tap, tap. “I need to go. I’ll call you later.”

“Oh,” Satoru replies, clearly disappointed. “Okay, great. Keep me updated.”

“I will,” Shoko says, smiling, even though he can’t see her. She hangs up first, setting her phone down, before getting up and unlocking the door, opening it.

She looks down, and Seiya is staring back up at her. She kneels, so that they’re at eye level. There are little red bumps across his face; they look like they hurt. She opens her arms, scooping him up, and he doesn’t say anything. “Time for bed?” she asks, pressing her mouth to the side of his head. Her hand cups the back of his skull, running her fingers through his silky hair.

“Yeah,” he sighs, wrapping his arms around her neck. She stands up, holding him closer, turning the bathroom light off with her elbow before walking to her bedroom. When she gets there, Tomie and Kirie are still looking at the picture book.

She pads up the bed, pulling the comforter back before laying Seiya down, signaling for Tomie to hand the book over, who does so with no problem. Kirie whines a little but climbs over Tomie to wedge herself between her and Seiya, even though there’s plenty of space. Shoko hums, tucking them all in, before she remembers that her phone is still in the bathroom.

Shoko promises to come right back, before she goes to get her phone. When she picks it up, she sees that Satoru sent her a picture. She opens the message, and it’s just a meme with a cockroach smoking a cigar. Baby Shoko, is all the message says, referencing her dirtbag teenage years. She smiles to herself, before picking up his toothbrush (he always buys a new one for travel) and hers, flipping open the toilet seat, and taking a picture of her hand, holding both toothbrushes over the toilet bowl. She sends it to him, with one question: Do you dare me?

 She grins from ear to ear when he sends her an upside-down smiley face.

Chapter Text

When Seiya turned four, he told Kirie that he hated her and wished that she were dead. Shoko had finished lighting his birthday candles and set his cake down in front of him. Seiya was wiggling all over, clapping his hands because he was excited and everyone was paying attention to him, when Kirie shoved him out of his chair, climbed up, and blew his candles out herself. Everyone blinked at her, but Kirie just turned to look at Seiya and smile at him. I made a wish. He screamed out loud, and Shoko had to pick him up and cradle him to her body while people took turns trying to explain to Kirie why she shouldn’t have done that. Seiya sobbed, pressing his face into Shoko’s neck, and she felt so bad for him that she made Satoru go buy new candles and hold onto Kirie while Seiya made his wish. Everyone clapped for him, and he more or less got over it.

Later that night, after everyone was gone. Shoko went upstairs to brush her teeth and came back down to find Seiya and Kirie curled up beside each other on the couch, fast asleep.

Seiya and Kirie have that kind of love-hate relationship that neither Shoko nor Satoru can wrap their heads around. Neither of them has siblings nor do they have a habit of loving and hating someone. Everyone says that it’s normal for siblings, but sometimes it’s hard not to feel like they did something wrong, when Seiya is shouting about stuffing Kirie into a mailbox and sending her back to where she came from.

But they do get along, sometimes. Right now, Kirie is wilted, her arm over Seiya’s stomach while he scratches her itchy spots for her, the same way that he’ll eat her vegetables for her if she makes a stink about it. Her cheeks are puffed up, her lower lip sticking out, while his nails scratch against her arm. Sometimes, she’ll point to a spot or whine, and he’ll move his fingers to the place. They’re in bed, next to Yuji, who is sleeping. Shoko will come in and shoo Seiya‘s fingers away from Kirie’s arm, but that doesn’t stop him. He sometimes hates Kirie but he’s a good older brother—shares his snacks when she asks and holds her hand when they cross the street, even when she screams at him not to.

Shoko sits on the bed in front of them, Yuji’s even breathing in the background.

“Can I look at your arm?” she asks Kirie.

“No,” Kirie says in a quiet voice that sounds nothing like her. Shoko frowns, because she can’t be happy in a world where her children are sick.

“Okay,” she says, “Seiya, can I look at your forehead?”

“No,” he says, turning his face away. Shoko sighs, sitting up, away from them.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asks, more to the universe than her children.

They both look up at her, before crawling forward, then flopping all over her. She picks Seiya up so that Kirie can flop across her lap. Yuji sighs in his sleep, while Kirie hugs Shoko around the waist, pressing her face into her side while Seiya’s arms are around her neck. They don’t say anything, and Shoko is just angrier at the universe for doing this to her babies.

**

“Yes,” Shoko sighs, “I completely understand.” She’s holding Kirie on her hip, while Tomie and Seiya watch a movie in the other room. Her phone is tucked between her cheek and shoulder, and she’s glad that Kirie has stopped her whining, so that she can hear Kiyotaka speak.

“Yeah,” he sighs, “it’s just, with the baby coming, Akari and I don’t want to take any risks.”

 “Oh no, don’t worry about it!” Nothing is fine, and honestly, she needs more support than Megumi, but she isn’t going to ask Kiyotaka to come over if there is any concern about him catching chicken pox. She remembers what it’s like to be pregnant, and you never, ever want to do anything to potentially hurt your baby.

That said, with their parents living out of town and Satoru, Utahime, Suguru, and Yu all gone, Shoko doesn’t know who else to call for support.

Shoko sighs, setting her phone down before pulling Kirie closer. She steps out to the living room, where Seiya and Tomie sit on Yuji’s back while he’s asleep, watching a movie. The bumps don’t look as angry as they did a few days ago, but she can tell that Seiya, Kirie, and Yuji are still uncomfortable.

“How are you?” she asks Kirie, who is looking right at her.

“Fine,” she says in a quiet, fairy light voice. Shoko feels like a terrible mother for not being able to make it better, so she holds Kirie closer, and she submits to the affection, whining a little when Shoko squeezes just a little too hard.

**

What Shoko doesn’t understand is the logic behind Kiyotaka sending Kento in his place. At least Yu likes kids and doesn’t see them and say that he’s getting sterilized.

“Hey,” Kento says, holding up a bag out to Shoko.

“Hi,” she replies, taking the bag from him, opening it, while Megumi looks around the corner, like he’s security, and Kirie walks up to Kento, looking for attention. Shoko’s opens the bag. It’s clearly a care package from Kiyotaka and Akari, full of fruit and cookies, but what catches Shoko’s eye is the little carton of Menthols, tucked at the bottom. It’s probably the nicest part of the whole gesture.

“Kiyotaka said that you need help,” Kento says, having apparently deduced how Shoko is doing from her greasy ponytail and the giant sweater and old leggings she’s wearing. It takes a minute for Shoko to remember whether she put on deodorant this morning, which is when Kirie comes around the corner, looking for Shoko and smiling when she sees Kento. She bounds up to him, excited to see one of her absolute favorites despite her illness.

Kento frowns when Kirie pulls on his pant leg, clearly wanting to be picked up. He has never been a natural with kids, but he is especially wary of Kirie, being the child who eats bugs and plays mean tricks on him.

“What do you want?” he asks, looking down at her.

“Up,” she replies, sticking her arms out towards him and making a grabby gesture with her hands.

“Kirie, come here,” Megumi says, stepping around Shoko and picking Kirie up, sensing Kento’s reluctance. “Sorry, she wandered off.”

“No!” Kirie kicks out, her arms flailing, as Megumi carries her back to the living room. She starts crying, wailing for Kento, even though he has never particularly enjoyed her company in the first place.

Shoko sighs, rubbing her right eye with the heel of her hand. When she looks up, Kento is staring right at her, and she can already tell that he had opinions about the way that she’s living her life.

“Yes?” It comes out harsher than she intended it to. Kento doesn’t even raise an eyebrow.

“Does Satoru know how bad it is?” he asks. Shoko shrugs while looking right at him. Her ability to give non-answers is something that Satoru has said both impresses and bothers him. It’s like I know exactly how you feel but without knowing why. Kirie cries out from the other room—Seiya shrieks, like he has been hit. Yells at Kirie, calling her evil. Shoko turns to look through the door, biting her lip, before looking back at Kento, who doesn’t look fazed.

“So, that’s a no.”

Shoko doesn’t say anything. She just goes to the living room, where Megumi is holding Kirie out of Seiya’s reach, while he yells at her. He quiets down when Shoko picks him up, pressing her mouth to his cheek, stroking his hair, until he relaxes again. When she turns around, Kento is leaning in the doorway, and she knows that he is silently judging the baskets of laundry and dirty cups left everywhere, preparing to snitch to Satoru, present a verbal report on what he found. Shoko is so tired that she doesn’t have it in herself to try and convince him otherwise.

**

Tucking his hands into his pockets, Satoru looks at a few plush toys. He was on a walk, trying to get away from the stuffy conference hall. There’s a souvenir shop just down the street, and he likes being the cool parent who comes home with presents.

His eye keeps wandering back to a fluffy white bunny with pink eyes, way up high on the shelf. It looks like the rabbits he and Kirie saw at the petting zoo. She’s a loud and obnoxious child (he means that with all the love in the universe) but when she saw the rabbits. she became incredibly still. She squatted down, gazing intently at the little rabbits, completely beside herself with happiness. Satoru got her some pellets, and she almost stopped breathing when one of the rabbits lopped over to the fence. She stuck her hand out, completely flat, and smiled when the little rabbit ate up the pellets. She looked up at Satoru and said one word. “Bunny.” Kirie turned her attention back to the rabbits and just stared, this big smile on her face. Seiya sat beside Kirie to look at the rabbits too, and she shushed him whenever he tried to speak. Shoko took a picture of the three of them when they weren’t looking. Satoru has it somewhere, even thought about having it printed for his office.

Satoru reaches up, picks the rabbit off the shelf. Holds it to his face. Squints at it. Sometimes, you look around a store and something just calls to you as being completely perfect for someone else. This is one of those times.

He checks the price, like it matters, and then looks around the store, to see if there’s anything Seiya would like. Nothing immediately jumps out at him, and he thinks about getting a t-shirt, but Seiya deserves better. Satoru circles back to the plushies, deciding that it’s safest to get Seiya something similar for now, until he finds something he’ll love.

Satoru looks up at the plushies, smiling when he spots Seiya’s favorite animal. He picks up the little sheep and decides that he’ll take it, before going to the register.

He wonders how the kids are doing, decides that he’ll call Shoko when he gets back to the hotel, and if she doesn’t pick up, call until Megumi answers his phone.

**

The fridge is empty. The cupboards are barren. Shoko has never been great at keeping house and spending the last week inside, attending to two sick kids, has revealed just how thin the line is between functional household and barren wasteland.

Kento tuts at the fridge before closing it, making a list inside of his head of all the things they need. Megumi, who also looks tired, is rubbing his eyes. In the other room, Yuji is watching a movie with the kids. Shoko went to take her first shower in days, only after Kento lied and told her that she smells funny. He then told her to take a nap after, because she looks like shit (Kento didn’t mince his words because Shoko can take it).

“We need so much,” Megumi sighs, “I’d go, but I don’t want to leave Shoko alone with three sick people.”

Kento opens his mouth to reply, but Megumi’s phone starts ringing. He pulls it out of his pocket, scowls when he sees who it is. Kento doesn’t have to ask who’s calling when Megumi answers. “Hello?” He rolls his eyes as the other person starts talking, and it’s then that Kento knows that Satoru himself has called. “She’s sleeping.” He rolls his eyes at the next question. “Well, they’re sick, so I don’t know if they want to talk right now.” Another silence while Satoru talks Megumi’s ear off. “No, I am not going to disturb Shoko while she’s resting. Leave a message with her and I’m sure she’ll call back when she gets the chance to.” Another eyeroll. “Yeah, I know.”

Kento gestures for the phone, and Megumi decides to just put Satoru on speaker. “—and remember that Seiya can’t watch anything remotely scary, but Kirie is fine, honestly, she sat through The Grudge with me, but don’t tell Shoko. Well, maybe she didn’t know what she was watching, she was pretty little then, I don’t even think that she could talk—“

“Satoru,” Kento says, “what are you talking about?”

“Nana—“

“Don’t you dare say it.” After seeing the state of this house, Kento has no patience for Satoru, even though, in all honesty, he doesn’t think that Satoru has any clue of what’s going on.

“Well, fuck me then,” Satoru says, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Shoko needs help,” Kento says, “so I came over.”

“She called you?” Satoru asks, not even trying to be rude. Kento frown.

“Kiyotaka called me.”

“That makes sense,” Satoru says, “so what’s going on?”

“There’s no food and Shoko looks awful.” Kento doesn’t see the point in mincing his words.

There is no immediate response, which is how Kento can tell that Satoru is surprised.

“What?”

“The place is a mess and Shoko hadn’t showered in a week.” Kento waits for Satoru’s reply, but he doesn’t have an immediate response. “We need to go get food, and neither of us wants to leave Shoko alone—“

“Give Nobara the Audi,” Satoru says, sounding distracted. Kento and Megumi make the exact same face—one of complete bafflement.

“You want Nobara to take the Audi?”

“It’s an entry model,” Satoru says, in a blasé way only the wealthy can say. “Megumi, I put you three and Yuuta on the insurance long ago—“

“What?” Megumi asks, “when did this happen?”

“None of your beeswax,” Satoru replies, “anyway, give Nobara the car and the list, and I’m sure everything will work out.” 

“Satoru—“ Kento begins, before he gets cut off.

“I’ll start looking into changing my flight,” Satoru says, “but don’t tell Shoko. It’ll just stress her out more.”

“What?”

“Megumi, have I ever told you that the strongest relationships are built on lies? Because if not, well, they are.” Satoru hangs up, without even a goodbye, and Kento and Megumi are just left standing there, having nothing to say to each other, such is their shock of Satoru’s ability to delegate, even miles away.

**

The thing is, when his friends decided to do the normie thing and partner up and have kids, Kento was genuinely happy for them. He didn’t get it, but despite the world being terrible, he was happy. A little concerned, sure, because he had witnessed all the probable damage his friends have done to their organs plus all the microplastics that definitely ruined their brains, but not enough to really be concerned from jump. Besides, an angel gets its wings whenever one of his asshole friends deals with a miniature version of themselves. Years of being the target of Satoru’s plots became worth it when he witnessed Seiya scream at Satoru and Shoko for bringing Kirie home from the hospital (he knows this isn’t developmentally possible, but Kento swears that Kirie looked downright evil while Seiya had his big meltdown, which just goes to show that monstrosity is a heritable trait). Putting up with Utahime’s drunken, belligerent antics isn’t so bad after seeing Tomie tell her that no, she doesn’t want to be hugged, at all.

Yes, in a way, Kento feels like he is finally being avenged after years of punishment and struggle. For this reason, he doesn’t mind helping Shoko with the kids. Yeah, they’re gross and get their jammy hands everywhere, and Kirie could very well be the Antichrist, but her evil is equal opportunity and Seiya and Tomie are cute.

Kento spent the last hour cleaning up the living room. Picking up the foggy glasses, wiping all the surfaces, dusting, folding laundry. In some ways, he finds this kind of thing very relaxing. Tidying things up is easy and requires little emotional effort.

Kento took a break to check his email and answer a few text messages. He looks up from his phone, and sees Kirie, who has plopped on top of Yuji, who is still lying down on the couch. She and Yuji are both wearing sweatpants and sweaters, their hair messy because Kirie screamed when Shoko tried to brush it, and Yuji because Kirie insisted on messing up his hair (having known her for all of her short life as well as Satoru, Kento judged it best for him to not get in the way of her agenda and mind his own business). She swings her little legs every so often, humming to herself while she watches the movie that Seiya chose and promptly walked away from, mumbling something about Shoko, holding onto his dumb little beanbag. Tomie is watching the movie, perched on the arm of the couch. Her legs are crossed, and she’s wearing one of those rompers kids in the nineties did—if he recalls, Utahime said that it’s one of her castoffs. Tomie has her hair in a high ponytail, clearly the one cooperative child in the house.

“Kento,” Kirie hums, “Kento, Kento—“

“Yes?” he sighs, looking at her. Kirie smiles and picks off a little scab from her arm without even flinching. She holds it up to Kento, and before he can say anything, she puts it in her mouth, swallows, and then smiles, just like Satoru. Almost like she wants to say, “see look what I can do.” Sits back too and crosses her arms, not caring about the oozing blood on her arm. Kento sits there, stunned.

“Did you just eat that?” Kirie nods, while he looks at Yuji, who is somehow still asleep, and then Tomie, who gives him this bored expression.

“She does that,” Tomie deadpans.

“Kirie, that’s disgusting,” Kento says, not knowing if she even knows that word means. Kirie just grins and wiggles her entire body, pure monstrosity, one hundred percent Satoru and Shoko’s demented baby.

Chapter Text

One time, when they were having a picnic with Utahime and Tomie, Seiya picked up a chicken nugget and bit into it, before looking down and realizing that it was covered in ants. He screamed and spat out the chewed-up food, throwing the nugget away, before crying, holding his arms out for Shoko. Utahime held onto Kirie, while Shoko cradled Seiya, as Tomie sipped her juice. Seiya refused to eat anything for the rest of the day, and he was upset until he went to sleep that night. For the first time, Shoko understands how he felt such despair.

The kids are getting better—Kirie has started to bounce around, and Seiya is perkier. Yuji seems more comfortable too. They even went to sleep in their own beds tonight. However, it has been at the expense of Shoko’s sanity. She has given this some thought, actually. It’s emotionally exhausting being in charge of this many people. Shoko is done with grinding up oatmeal and checking for spots and burst blisters, of having to get up and figure out what three sick people are willing to eat. She’s tired of cleaning thermometers and bedsheets and trying to get Seiya and Kirie to take medicine they don’t like for symptoms that make them uncomfortable. Shoko hasn’t gone to work this entire week, meaning her daily ritual of femininity, of putting on her mascara and heels and nice trousers, has been completely interrupted. She has been in leggings or sweatpants, wearing one of Satoru’s old college sweaters, for five days straight. She nearly fell asleep in the shower this morning and was woken up when Seiya started banging on the door, wanting to know where she was. Shoko just wants some peace, is all.

Specifically, she wants Utahime to come back and take over. They can have sleepovers like they used to, when they were younger and would get drunk and fall asleep beside each other. Suguru and Satoru shouldn’t bother coming. All she needs is Utahime, because she just understands.

Shoko picks up her phone and walks into the bathroom. She sits on the toilet, before calling the one person who truly understands her.

“Hello?” Utahime says, “is everything okay?”

“Can you come back?” Shoko whispers, “but just you?”

“What?” Utahime asks, “Shoko, is everything—“

“Utahime, I need you,” she says, “not one of Satoru’s chosen children, or Kento, or whoever else Kiyotaka convinces to come, or Satoru or Suguru, I need you, specifically.”

There’s a silence on the other end. Probably Utahime trying to figure out if Shoko is having a nervous breakdown. Shoko imagines Utahime on the other end, in a hotel room with Suguru. She imagines them in bed beside each other, Suguru reading one of his pretentious books while Utahime plays one of those word games with strangers on the internet. Maybe the television is on in the background, so that they can take in world events through osmosis. She hears muffled voices, indicating that Utahime and Suguru are talking amongst themselves. She imagines their conversation:

“Shoko is losing it!”

“What do you mean, losing it?”

“Suguru, she’s about to ask if we can take the kids and form a commune.”

“That doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.”

“Suguru!”

“Kidding!”

 And honestly, the idea of living with just the kids and Utahime is appealing. They talked about it, when they were in university and going through what Mei Mei terms their “man hater phase.” Utahime stopped shaving and Shoko exclusively dated women for five years. One night, Utahime rolled over and told Shoko that they should just become life partners and have kids together and live on a farm somewhere. Honestly, it’d be a nice life and Satoru could figure out how to live alone again. Yep, Shoko would be happy to just be with Utahime for the rest of her life.

“Shoko,” Utahime says, “what’s wrong, exactly?”

“I am caring for three sick people, get kicked up by three little kids at night, and nearly passed out in the shower.” Shoko grips the phone, like that will help Utahime hear her better. “Just come back.”

“Okay,” Utahime says, “Suguru is checking flights now—“

“No, don’t bring him, he’ll get in the way!”

“Shoko, I’m not leaving Suguru in Hokkaido.” Utahime is using her best calming voice, like Shoko is a baby who needs to be placated.

“I’m sorry,” Shoko sighs, rubbing her forehead. “I’m ruining your nice vacation.”

“We only had three days left,” Utahime says, “and honestly, we miss Tomie. It’s weird being with just Suguru.”

“Yeah?” Shoko asks softly.

“Mhmm,” Utahime hums, “it’s like we’re waiting for her to say something or interject.”

“She’s not the interjecting type.”

“You know what I mean.” From what she understands, Suguru, Utahime, and Tomie have a quiet house where everyone listens to each other. Shoko, however, lives in a house with three loud people, two who bang pots and pans and run around causing havoc just for fun, one of those two being Satoru. In short, she doesn’t know what Utahime means.

“Look, we’ll cancel everything,” Utahime says, “and we’ll come early, and Suguru and I will take care of everything, and all you’ll have to do is rest.”

“Can we have a sleepover after?” Shoko asks, “just you and me?” She misses the days when she and Utahime would come home drunk and sleep for hours and spend the next day watching movies.

“Of course,” Utahime says, “we’ll book a hotel and everything. Now, go to sleep. We’ll be there tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Shoko says quietly. “You’re not mad?”

“Not at all!” Utahime says, her smile in her voice. Shoko stands up, sighing.

“Thanks,” she says, “good night.” Utahime hangs up, and Shoko turns to look at herself in the mirror. It’s an unguarded moment, so she isn’t expecting to see how she really looks. I look like this? She frowns, before getting out her eye cream, which she hasn’t used in a week. Takes off the cap, squeezes some onto her fingers, before leaning forward and gently dabbing it onto her skin. After, she steps back from the mirror, blinking when she realizes that she expected just a little cream to make her look well rested. She puts the cap back on the container and sets it on a shelf, before leaving the bathroom and going to bed.

When she gets there, she’s so tired, she falls asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow.

**

One of the most genuine things that Satoru has ever said: parenthood is an honor, because it’s amazing to get to watch a little tiny baby grow up into who they are. He said this to Shoko once, just babbling, when she turned around and said that she was going to keep his baby. It took ten minutes of them talking around each other for him to realize that Shoko was actually pregnant and had been trying to find a way to tell him. Suguru called it synchronicity, that the universe was trying to tell them something. Satoru cackled and said that kind of shit only happens to Suguru and Utahime, that everyone else is running on pure luck.

But privately, Satoru agreed. Each time he sees Seiya and Kirie, he thinks about how wild it is for the universe to make not just one but two perfect babies.

Satoru is waiting by the gate, having changed his flight to a red eye. He’s looking through some videos on his phone and is currently watching the one Yuji took of him and the kids at the mall. There were these dumb strollers that looked like police cars, like, for mall cops, and Satoru was pushing Kirie and Seiya around, even though there was only room for Kirie and Seiya had to sit on the roof. Seiya would point and squeal at people he judged to be trouble, almost all of whom were grumpy looking teenagers or middle-aged salarymen. Megumi is scowling in the background, and the video stops when a security guard approached to ask them to stop.

He’s at the part of the video where Kirie decides to hang out the window of the little car, when Utahime’s name pops up on his screen. He picks up the call without hesitation.

“Hello, you have reached—”

“Don’t you even start,” Utahime says, cutting him off. “Where are you?”

“What?” Satoru blinks, confused for a second. “Why?”

“Answer the question.”

“I’m in public, wearing pants and a sweater, and no, I’m not going to take any weird pictures, pervert.”

“I am going to disregard that tasteless remark—” Utahime says, before she’s interrupted.

“Shoko is losing her mind.” Suguru’s voice cuts through, and Satoru frowns. He wonders how they even know, since, they’re supposed to be living it up in Hokkaido.

“Yeah, Kento told me,” Satoru says, “so, how do you two know?”

“Shoko called me,” Utahime says, not even thinking. It hurts Satoru’s feelings, that the first person Shoko calls for support, after all this time, is still Utahime. Damn, is that how it really is? He can picture Suguru sighing, while Utahime keeps talking, completely clueless to Satoru’s insecurity. The only reason Suguru knows is because Satoru complains to him, loudly, when Shoko appears to favor Utahime over him.

“Oh,” he says, “how does she sound?”

“Exhausted,” Utahime says, “which is why I’m calling you. Suguru and I are cancelling the rest of our trip to go back to Tokyo, and as Shoko’s husband, it’s my job to tell you to go home.”

“Oh, you and Shoko got married?” Satoru asks, feeling sore. “Why didn’t you invite me to the wedding?”

“That’s not the point,” Suguru says, and Utahime squeaks. Satoru imagines that Suguru has snatched the phone away. “Anyway, where are you?”

“In the airport, waiting for my plane home.” Satoru frowns, “do you two really think I would know that there was a problem and not come home?”

“No,” Suguru says, “I just think—”

“You know Shoko never wants to make you worry,” Utahime interjects, “that’s why we called.”

“I worry about all the things she doesn’t tell me,” Satoru says, “she’s going to give me an ulcer one day.”

He sinks into his bad feelings. He only knows what he knows. One of the things that he finds attractive about Shoko is that she’s mysterious, even to him, not giving herself up. It also makes her frustrating to deal with.

“If she didn’t love you, she wouldn’t try to keep it together for you.” Utahime’s voice is softer, like she’s trying to comfort him. “You can talk to her when you get back.”

“Well, I’m going to,” he replies, “if my plane doesn’t fall out of the sky.”

“That’s not funny,” Utahime says, “really not funny.”

“Aren’t I the person between you and your wife?”

“Stealing her away will feel so much better if you’re alive rather than dead.”

“That,” Satoru says, “is sociopathic. Suguru, I hope you know who you’re sleeping with.”

“Safe travels!” Suguru says, before the call ends. Satoru takes some satisfaction in getting the last word in. He looks down at his phone and sees the video. He presses play, and wheezes when he gets to the part where Kirie screamed at the security guard.

**

It’s late when Satoru gets home. When he steps inside the house, he’s not surprised to find Yuji sleeping on the couch, under an old comforter, while Megumi is sleeping on the armchair. Satoru gets a blanket for him, pulling it up to Megumi’s chin, like he’s a baby, before going upstairs.

Leaving his suitcase at the bottom of the stairs, he walks up, quiet like a cat. He checks the kids’ rooms first; Seiya is sprawled on his back, his hands in little fists, wheezing like Shoko; Kirie is sleeping on her stomach, Tomie beside her, frowning in her sleep.  

He steps into his room, taking his clothes off quietly, leaving them on the chair in the corner. He pulls on a pair of old sweatpants, before pulling the covers back and sliding into bed beside Shoko, who is on her side, this pinched expression on her face. She doesn’t move when he gets in bed, like she’s completely and totally zonked. He can’t remember the last time that she was like this—it must have been before the kids. She swears that she can feel whenever he moves a little in his sleep, like having kids has her body on red alert for any movement in the night. She’ll frequently say that she hasn’t gotten a decent night’s sleep since Seiya was a little bundle of cells free floating in her abdomen.

He runs a hand through her hair, thinking about all the times he has walked into their room and found her exhausted, because she was too stubborn to call him. One time, when she was pregnant with Kirie, she struggled to load the washing machine and just gave up after twenty minutes, because Seiya kept trying to climb into the basket of dirty laundry in some bid for attention and Kirie was sitting right on Shoko’s ribcage, kicking out and hurting her guts. When Satoru got home, Shoko was lying in bed, holding Seiya, who was napping on her, and crying softly while watching a documentary about baby antelopes getting eaten by crocodiles. Called herself a failure.

Why didn’t you call me?

Because you won’t always be around.

Shoko values independence. Insisted on a house they could both afford, instead of relying on his trust fund. Won’t marry him because she doesn’t believe in an institution founded on women depending on men. Tells him that she only realized that love could last forever when she became a mother (the unintended implication being that she didn’t have that realization with him). It’s frustrating, sometimes, because he values togetherness. He was always building the family he never felt like he had growing up; he wants kids, he wants to grow old with Shoko. It feels like she did all of this to placate him, which isn’t a fair assessment, it’s just how it feels on occasions when she calls Utahime for help first.

He taps her right between the eyes, and her eyelids flutter and her forehead wrinkles before she wakes up. She frowns a little, before she sits up on her elbow.

“Satoru?”

“One and only.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Changed my flight,” he replies, “Utahime told me that you were going to run away with her if I didn’t come back, and well, she got Suguru so I can’t lose to her again.” He winks and Shoko smiles, lying back down.

“I’m glad you came back,” she says, “I missed you.”

“So, you didn’t call me?”

“I was having a breakdown and needed a mom friend.” She yawns, big, and rolls over. “Anyways, I need to go back to sleep. Your children have drained my life force.”

“They get it from you,” he murmurs, moving closer to be right beside her. Shoko sighs when his arm comes up over her waist, pressing her face into the pillow.

“Don’t ever go away again,” she says, “I can’t stand it.”

“I can’t make any promises,” he replies, “but I’ll try to take you all with me next time, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” Shoko yawns, before drifting back into sleep. Satoru lays his head down behind hers, scooting closer to press their bodies together. Like that, he falls asleep.

**

Satoru wakes up to a weight on the back of his head and shoulders, little fingers scratching his scalp, and giggling. He groans and rolls over, Kirie laughing out loud and clinging to his hair. He lifts his head so that she can scramble out from under him, and she moves over to sit on his stomach. She’s wearing one of her onesie pajamas, the pink ones that Shoko bought her for colder weather. There are some red spots on her face, but she seems to be in good spirits.

“Good morning!” Kirie squeals, making Satoru wince. He is certain that he wasn’t this shrill as a child. Everyone told him that he would regret having a child who loves him the most, and he doesn’t, but he definitely understands what everyone meant. He turns his head, to see Shoko trying to stay asleep, Seiya lying behind her head, stroking her hair. He is always very careful with her, when she’s sleeping in. Like he knows when she needs her rest. Satoru wishes that Kirie had that kind of restraint, but only sometimes.

“Good morning,” he sighs, sitting up on his elbows, “how long have you two been awake?” Seiya and Kirie are both confused by his question, and it strikes him that neither of them can tell the time. “Where’s Tomie?”

“Downstairs,” Seiya says, “Megumi is there making breakfast.” Satoru notices some spots on his arms and cheeks and leans forward to check his temperature with his wrist. Seiya doesn’t feel warm, but he definitely isn’t as bouncy as Kirie.

“Pancakes!” Kirie cheers, waving her arms over her head. Satoru grabs her, holding her over his face, high enough that she can’t kick him in the face. She wiggles.

“Pancakes!” he shouts back, smiling when Kirie sticks out her tongue. He sets her down on the bed, and she scrambles up, running to the end of the bed and climbing down, running out of the room, screaming. Satoru sighs, letting his head sink into the pillow. Kirie is singing loudly, from her room, probably deciding what she wants to bring downstairs with her.

“She’s so loud,” Shoko groans, opening her eyes. Seiya moves to sit on her stomach, and Satoru sits up, picking him up, while he squeals. He presses his mouth to Seiya’s little ear.

“I missed you so much!”

“Let me go!” Seiya says, “let me go!” He kicks out with his little legs, and Satoru lets go of him, and Seiya rolls down his legs, and then sits up on his ankles, before scooting away, climbing off the bed, running out of the room. Satoru smiles, before turning to look at Shoko. He tucks her hair behind her ear, rubs his thumb against the corner of her eye, getting the crust out.

“You look terrible.”

“You smell like you’ve been on an airplane,” she replies, sitting up. “I’m glad you came back.”

“I would’ve come sooner.” Satoru doesn’t pout, but he does let himself sound annoyed. Shoko presses her lips together, before looking away.

“I just don’t like to upset you.”

“When have I ever been upset with you?” he asks, “except when you don’t tell me things because you’re trying to avoid, honestly, I don’t even know.” It’s early for this kind of conversation, but it’s easier to make his point now, before they have to get up and deal with the world.

“I don’t want to bother you, that’s all.”

“You never bother me.” He pauses. “Except when you—”

“I get it,” Shoko says, putting her hand up. “It’s just, I don’t know, it’s hard to talk about my feelings when I’m in them, experiencing them. This week, I’ve been so busy being overwhelmed, that I didn’t have time to stop and think about you.” She bites her lip, her hands in her lap. “Wow, that’s a really terrible thing to say.”

“You make a fair point,” he replies, reaching to press his thumb to her cheek. “Can we make a new rule where when you are getting to that point, you just call me? I don’t want you to get overwhelmed.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmmm,” he hums, “it makes my guts twist up.” He pinches her cheek, and Shoko gives him a small smile. He taps her cheek with his fingers, gentle, a one-two-three. “So, is it a deal?”

“Okay,” she says softly, “and you promise to take me with you next time?”

“I’m taking you and the whole circus,” he says, “even Kento, if he’s nice enough to me.”

“The whole circus?”

“The lions, tigers, and bears.” As he says this, Kirie’s voice gets louder, as she runs back into the room, dragging Seiya behind her. She lets go of his hand, and when she gets to the foot of the bed, she launches herself up, and Seiya has to boost her up, and she scrambles towards Shoko, launching herself into her arms.

“Pancakes,” she says, pleading. Shoko sighs.

“Time to go downstairs?”

“Carry me!” Kirie turns and looks over her shoulder at Seiya, who is crawling up Shoko’s legs. She sticks her hand out, making grabby gesture at Seiya, who frowns at her. When he’s close enough, she leans back and pinches his nose between her fingers. Seiya screams, pulls away, and Satoru snatches him up so that he can’t retaliate.

“Stop harassing your brother,” Shoko says in a stern voice, even though Kirie is still smiling. She leans over, squirming away from Shoko, so that she can grab at Seiya’s toes. Shoko wraps her arms around her, pulling her away. Kirie makes this angry noise, and Shoko looks Satoru right in the eye.

“You still want to take the whole circus?”

“Of course,” he says, smiling, because he means it. Shoko smiles back because she believes him.  

Chapter Text

Sitting around the table, Satoru uses the side of his fork to cut his pancake, while Kirie sits on his lap, marvelling at the little white bunny he brought back for her. Seiya is sitting next to Shoko, his little plush sheep and bean bag at his elbow. Yuji is sitting too. Megumi stands by the stove, and Tomie is sitting on a tall stool beside him, kicking out her little legs while she sips her juice.

It’s uncharacteristically quiet, perhaps because everyone is eating and Kirie is distracted by her new toy. Satoru sticks some pancake into his mouth, while Kirie mutters to herself.

“Everyone is so quiet,” Yuji says, picking at his pancake. “Is there something wrong?” Megumi glares right at him.

“You’ve ruined it,” he says, opening his mouth to say more, when the front door opens, and they hear Utahime call out for Tomie. Megumi shuts his mouth, frowning, while Tomie neatly sets her drink down, knowing what’s coming next.

Utahime is in the kitchen not a minute later, walking over and lifting Tomie into her arms, holding her tight.

“I missed you so much!” she says. Tomie hugs her back, blinking over her shoulder at everyone else.

“What about us?” Satoru asks, mouth full. Kirie squirms out of his grasp, running over to Utahime, holding up her rabbit. Utahime turns to look down at her, smiling.

“What’s that?” she asks, ignoring Satoru’s question.

“Bunny,” Kirie says, smiling.

“Are you ignoring me on purpose?” Satoru asks, swallowing his food. Utahime glares at him.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” she says, adjusting her hold on Tomie, who is pressing her cheek to Utahime. Satoru grins, resting his chin on his fist.

“Oh, really?” he asks, in this faux-innocent voice that barely hides his intentions. Utahime scowls, and is about to open her mouth, when Suguru walks into the kitchen. Satoru and Utahime immediately both straighten up, getting on their best behavior, which makes Shoko snort and roll her eyes.

Kirie runs up to Suguru, holding her bunny up. He smiles, kneels to her level. “What’s that?”

“Bunny,” she says, waving it in his face, before turning around and running back to Satoru, climbing onto his lap, more affectionate than she usually is. He helps her up, and she grins over at Suguru, who is standing up, wiggling his fingers at her, before he turns to Utahime, opens his arms to Tomie, who reaches out for him. Utahime reluctantly hands her over, and when Suguru and Tomie’s faces are close, Satoru is struck by their likeness, the way that they smile the exact same—like responsible, upstanding citizens.

“How was your trip?” Shoko asks, and Utahime lights up.

“It was great,” she says, “we had so much fun—"

“But did you bring us any presents?” Satoru asks, squeezing Kirie, who lights up.

“Presents!” she squeals, making Satoru grin when she claps her little hands.

Shoko kicks his leg. “You’re the worst.” He turns to her, his eyes getting big, feigning shock. Shoko sticks a big wad of pancake into her mouth, chewing, unmoved by his dramatics.

“I expect this from Megumi or Utahime, but not from you!” Kirie and Seiya give them these owlish expressions, curious as to what will happen. Yuji just focuses on his pancakes, while Megumi, Suguru, Utahime, and Tomie decide to watch. Shoko narrows her eyes, chewing big and slow.

She then scoots closer to Satoru, leaning over to put her mouth over his plate, opening her mouth and making an AH! sound, like she’s going to puke up the chewed-up food all over his half-eaten breakfast. Satoru grins, while Kirie and Seiya both giggle, amused. Everyone else (even Yuji) just looks a little grossed out. Suguru hides it the best, but Megumi and Tomie’s noses are wrinkled. Yuji stops eating, pushes his plate away. Utahime sighs.

“This is why your children are the way they are,” she says, crossing her arms. Satoru makes a noise of faux offence. Shoko closes her mouth, swallowing her food, her point having been made.

“And what would you be implying?” he asks, “my children are angels!”

“Angels,” Kirie chirps, a chorus. “Angels!” She throws up her hands, her bunny nearly smacking him in the face. Utahime snorts when Satoru turns his head to dodge it, and before he can get on her for being amused, he makes eye contact with Shoko, who looks like she finds it funny too. He opens his mouth, but she puts her hand over it.

“Don’t start,” Shoko says, “please.” Satoru presses the tip of his tongue to her palm. She just smiles and presses her thumb to his cheek.

**

The very first thing that Satoru and Kirie do, when she is feeling better and no longer contagious, is go to their favorite place—the 100-yen shop.

It has everything they could want. Markers, old pop CDs, gummy candy, glitter, construction paper, fake flowers, boxes, books, soap, and so much more. Satoru will give Shoko a basket, and he and Kirie will go up and down each aisle, looking for anything that looks even vaguely entertaining. Popsicle sticks, seashells, little toy horses, pink and blue sand—Kirie and Satoru bought all the above, went home, and created a beach for three little ponies, with a little run-in shelter. They’ve bought tubes of paints, giant markers, and huge rolls of paper, putting them all down the main floor of the house, creating a path, and used the paint and markers to create traps or tricks as well as arrows and smaller pictures, like it’s a giant board game. Satoru came up with the rules, but Kirie helped him pass judgement. Kento and Megumi always somehow lose and get sent back to the door to begin again, at least twice (Seiya helps Mei Mei, Kiyotaka and Akari cheat, Suguru, Utahime, Shoko, and Tomie all walk outside of the path so that the rules don’t apply to them, and Yuu, Nobara, and Yuji are all just obscenely lucky. Kento put it best — This isn’t fair, you have to be tricking me. This is true of course. It’s just that no one has figured how Satoru and Kirie do it).

Kirie wipes her nose with her little hand, and Satoru leans down and cleans her off with a wipe from his pocket. She’s looking around the store already, not paying attention to him. She immediately runs off when he stands up, jogging over to where Seiya is sorting through some boxes. She’s holding her new toy bunny by the ear, dragging it along with her.

One thing that fascinates Satoru is how Seiya and Kirie always look like they have an agenda. Things to do, people to see. Even when they were lying in his arms and pooping their diapers, making dumb faces, and scrunching their noses, they always seemed to have something going on in their little brains. Suguru once said that none of the parenting books prepare you for how invested you’ll be in your kids. Like, this little person comes out, and for absolutely no reason, you love them. With both Seiya and Kirie, when they were tiny babies, sometimes, Satoru and Shoko would just sit and stare at them, for no reason. Complete infatuation. Unable to look away, Satoru and Shoko would sometimes try to guess what Seiya or Kirie were thinking. They’d joke, sure, but it was also a genuine exercise of love.

Seiya is already looking at some boxes, picking them up to peek inside. Satoru isn’t really sure what he’s looking for; all he muttered was something about wanting a box for his secrets, which, fair. Some of the boxes are printed with different patterns, some ugly florals, or holidays like Christmas, or cutesy animals. Plain ones, meant to be decorated too. All sorts of sizes. Seiya has one that he seems particularly interested in. It’s a perfect cube, and it’s plain, so he can decorate it however he wants.

“He’s always got a vision,” Satoru says, more to himself than Suguru, who is holding Tomie’s hand while she looks around the store. She likes sticking by him in public, unlike Seiya and Kirie, who will run off for absolutely no reason (one time, they nearly ran after a butterfly into open traffic, before Satoru snatched them both up and scolded them, the one and only time in their lives he has ever done that).

“Yeah,” Suguru says, “you’re like that too. Always an agenda.”

“You make that sound like it’s a bad thing,” Satoru stuffs his hands in his pockets. Suguru has always been like this, able to make accurate assessments of Satoru’s character, remembering every little thing he has ever done.

There was once a time when they were so close that Satoru wanted to be Suguru’s backpack, always being together and going on adventures. Becoming parents and doing the family thing hasn’t brought them closer, the way it did with Shoko and Utahime. Instead of giving them more things to talk about, it just emphasizes their differences. It’s a little disappointing, becoming a grownup.

“That was a value free judgement,” Suguru says, looking down at Tomie. He once told Satoru and Shoko that he’s afraid that Tomie is too still, that she doesn’t show much interest in other kids her age or being outside, that sometimes, she’ll sit and pluck at the rubber bands he put around a tissue box for her or play around with the little toy piano she got from a neighbor. Shoko tells him to stop looking for problems, but she also doesn’t completely understand that Suguru doesn’t like the reserved part of himself either.

“Sure,” Satoru says, waving his hand, “anyways, we’ve got things to look for. I want to make a big mess for Shoko.” He justifies it with the excuse that he always cleans it up. He just thinks the face that she makes when she sees it is funny. It’s not exasperated, just resigned, with a little amusement. The best time was when Seiya somehow got glitter glue all over her nice leather shoes. Shoko actually laughed at that one.

“Why?” Tomie asks, looking up at him. Her eyes are a little narrowed, suspicious like Utahime would be.

“Because I want to see how much she loves me,” Satoru says, smiling when it goes a little over Tomie’s head. Suguru rolls his eyes.

“That doesn’t work on your mom,” he tells Tomie, leaning down. “Now, do you want to go see what Seiya and Kirie are doing?”

“I can see from here,” Tomie deadpans, “Kirie’s about to hit him.”

Too late, Satoru and Suguru look over to Kirie, who is holding her bunny with her left hand, and a fly swatter in her right, creeping up behind Seiya. Before either can say anything, she smacks him right upside the head, making him howl and her giggle.

Seiya turns around, and smacks her across the face, as Satoru walks over to separate them. All Kirie does is giggle and squeal “that doesn’t hurt!” She waves her bunny and the fly swatter, dancing around Satoru, who is holding onto Seiya tight. It’s clear who the winner of this around is.

**

Maybe it should be obvious by now, but Kirie doesn’t listen to what people have to say and she loves attention. On escalators, she’ll be holding hands with someone and will then drop, collapsing so that the person holding her hand has to hold her up. Megumi and Nobara always get mad when she does it with them, and she just giggles when they tell her to stand up properly. Yuji just leans into it, pretending that she’s very heavy, which always makes her happy. Satoru, well, nothing she does makes him upset. Even when she nearly smothers him to death.

Kirie sits at table, crayons in front of her, face screwed up, tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth, concentrating on drawing a wobbly red line on a blue piece of construction paper, while Seiya sticks a rhinestone onto the two pieces of construction paper that he glued together, to make Shoko a crown. He finished decorating his box and decided that he wanted to use the leftover beads, rhinestones, and pom poms to decorate a crown for Shoko. He hums to himself, while Satoru watches him.

“Why’re you only choosing blue rhinestones?” he asks, leaning towards Seiya’s ear. His son doesn’t even look up from his project to answer.

“Cos Mommy wears lots of blue,” he says in a quiet voice. Kirie shrieks to herself across the table, throwing her red crayon down to the floor. Seiya frowns at her, like she interrupted him, and Satoru leans down to pick the crayon up.

“I want one!” Kirie starts saying, pointing at the crown. “I want one, I want one!”

“Stop copying me,” Seiya huffs, trying to pull all of his supplies towards him, in a pile. Satoru sets the crayon down in front of Kirie, deciding to referee.

“Why don’t we decorate your picture?” Satoru says, picking up a few stickers, showing her where they could be placed on the red line. He’s hoping that she’s in the kind of mood where she can be easily redirected, but Kirie just frowns at him.

“No,” she says, “no, no, no!”

“She’s so annoying,” Seiya huffs to himself, picking up a cherry sticker. He looks a lot like Shoko when she’s over it. Their cheeks puff up the same, and their eyes narrow. Satoru sighs, and before Kirie can have a meltdown, he reaches for her, standing up and holding her upside down while she screams, delighted.

He spins around, and she sticks her arms out, squealing. Seiya gives them the stink eye, before he turns back to his project. Satoru keeps spinning until he flops onto the couch, pulling Kirie with him. She rolls onto the seat beside him, then sits up, staring right at him.

“Whew,” she says, wiping off her forehead with an overdramatic flick of her wrist. Satoru smiles, copies her. She has this goofy look on her face that warms his heart.

“Woof,” he says, and Kirie giggles.

“You’re a dog!” she cheers, before she starts barking at him, scrambling off the couch to run up to Seiya.

“Woof, woof, woof!” She holds her arms up, and Seiya looks down at her, sighing before setting down his glitter glue and helping her onto the chair beside him, even though there isn’t much space for both of them. Their legs dangle of the edge of the seat, and Kirie sets her chin on Seiya’s shoulder. He doesn’t even grumble, and Satoru sits back and marvels at how alike they are when they’re quiet and just sitting with each other. He never had a sibling, so he’s a little jealous that his kids will have each other to rely on when he and Shoko inevitably become difficult old people, but he’s also happy that they’ll always have each other, especially after he and Shoko are dead.

That was his biggest fear as a kid, ending up alone. He grew up in a wealthy family that had a stiff upper lip and tough love, where no one talked about anything openly. It was boring and lonely, which is why he was so happy to find Suguru and Shoko, and subsequently spent so much time with them. Seeing Kirie hang off Seiya feels kind of like he has broken a generational curse, which Satoru thinks is one of many millions of reasons why he’s glad that his children exist.

**

“Nah nah nah!” Kirie shrieks, thumping a wooden spoon against a metal pot, turned over on the kitchen floor. Seiya is shaking a jar full of rice in time with her voice, like a maraca. On the floor cross legged, right in front of them, is Satoru, who is also hitting a pan with a metal ladle like it’s a drum.

When Shoko gave birth to Kirie, and she realized that her daughter is a Leo, her son a Gemini, and partner a Sagittarius, she lay there and realized that she would never get any peace ever again. Utahime tried to reassure her, and then Kirie started screaming for the first time, Seiya kept climbing onto Shoko for attention with Satoru started clapping his hands, Utahime took it all back.

Living with two fire signs and an air sign is like living in a constant state of chaos. Egos the size of the moon, stubbornness, trouble with authority, having a convenient relationship with rules. It’s all true. Shoko never gets a moment of peace, not even when she’s on the toilet or in the shower, because someone is always banging on the door, having a question or a problem or just wanting her attention.

But she never doubts how loved she is. Seiya is always trying to take care of her. Kirie always remembers her. Satoru always shows up when she needs him, even if she doesn’t want him to. Maybe Kento and Utahime are right, and she lives with a couple of monsters, but she adores them with her whole entire body. Enough to wear a too-big crown tilted back so that she can see what she’s doing while she salts the water for spaghetti and listen to the worst band she has ever heard in her life.

Shoko turns to look over her shoulder, and Seiya and Kirie are playing nicely with each other while Satoru just grins, all three of them having the time of their lives just from making noise for fun. Sometimes, it really is the simple things that make life worth it.