Chapter Text
The little shop at the edge of the old market smelled like tatami mats and dust and fresh cotton. Suguru stood awkwardly by the rack of children’s pajamas, one hand hovering over a pink set with bunnies on it, the other clutching the list Shoko had forced on him that morning: clothes, soap, hair ties, slippers. He could feel the shopkeeper staring — but what else was new? A young man in black robes and tired eyes, shopping for tiny nightgowns like he had any idea what kids liked.
Mimiko and Nanako stood at his sides, each clinging to a handful of fabric. Mimiko was already half-swallowed by a soft yellow hoodie that Suguru knew was two sizes too big, but she refused to let it go. Nanako’s tiny fingers curled tight around a pair of fuzzy socks with cartoon cats.
“They’re fine,” Suguru murmured, more to himself than them. “If that’s what you want, it’s fine.”
Mimiko beamed at him — this small, gap-toothed thing that made something in his chest twist up and loosen all at once. Nanako didn’t smile, but she nudged closer until her shoulder pressed into his leg. Like it was normal. Like he wasn’t—
Like you’re not a monster.
Suguru swallowed. He crouched down, fussed with the hood on Mimiko’s head to hide how his hands shook. “These okay?” he asked. He felt stupid for asking — what if they said no? What if he couldn’t fix it?
Nanako nodded solemnly. “We want matching ones.” She glanced at Mimiko, who clutched the hoodie tighter like a promise. “So we look the same.”
Suguru’s laugh cracked on the way out, but it was real. “Okay. Same ones, then.”
The shopkeeper said something about what a good brother he was. Suguru didn’t bother to correct him.
They made their way back through the old streets, dusk gathering in corners where lanterns hadn’t been lit yet. Mimiko skipped a little ahead, new hoodie flapping around her knees. Nanako held tight to Suguru’s sleeve the whole way — until Satoru appeared out of nowhere, arms wide like a ghost out of an alley.
“Boo!”
Nanako squealed and punched his thigh. Mimiko shrieked and dove behind Suguru’s legs.
Satoru just cackled, sunglasses perched uselessly on his head in the half-dark. “What? You’re supposed to be scared of ghosts! I’m terrifying!”
“You’re an idiot,” Suguru said, but he didn’t have the energy to make it sound sharp.
Satoru bent down, all knees and elbows and chaotic grin, and offered Mimiko his shoulders. “C’mon, get up here. View’s better.”
Mimiko peeked out from behind Suguru’s coat. Tiny fingers crept up, and before Suguru could protest, she was perched on Satoru’s broad back, shrieking with laughter as he lurched and spun in a slow, dizzy circle. Nanako crossed her arms like she was above it — but she still trailed after them, closer than her glare wanted to admit.
Suguru followed behind, arms weighed down by shopping bags, heart weighed down by something softer — something that almost scared him more than the curses ever did.
The girls fell asleep the second they slipped into their new pajamas. Suguru had laid out an old futon in his room — tatami creaking under his knees as he tucked them in like he’d done it a thousand times. He brushed hair off their foreheads with careful fingers.
He still didn’t understand it — how they could want him here, near them, after what they’d seen. How they could cling to the worst thing in the room and call it safe.
The paper door slid open just enough for Satoru’s messy hair and grin to appear. He tiptoed in, very dramatically, then flopped next to Suguru on the tatami, almost on top of his folded legs.
“They out?” Satoru whispered.
Suguru nodded. His hand hovered over Mimiko’s shoulder where she curled into Nanako’s side. “I think so.”
Satoru grinned wider — then leaned close enough to bump their shoulders. “Hey. You did good, y’know.”
Suguru’s laugh came out hoarse, hardly a laugh at all. “I bought them socks, Satoru. It’s not exactly—”
“Hey.” Satoru’s palm came up to cup the back of Suguru’s neck, thumb brushing the hair there. “They’re warm. They’re fed. They’re giggling about your old tatami creaking every time you breathe. You did good.”
Suguru huffed, eyes dropping to the futon. “I don’t know how to be… this. Not with them. I’m going to— mess it up.”
“You won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” Satoru’s fingers curled into Suguru’s collar, tugging him forward until their foreheads bumped together. Soft, clumsy. Warm. “If you fall, I fall with you. That’s the deal, remember?”
Suguru squeezed his eyes shut — like he could shut out the fear for one second. His voice cracked when he whispered, “Idiot.”
Satoru just grinned against his skin, breath warm at his temple. “I know.”
Behind them, the girls shifted in their sleep — two tiny heartbeats anchored to Suguru’s. Satoru’s laughter rumbled low in his chest, half a breath away from the next dumb ghost game, the next loud joke — but for now, he stayed quiet, his thumb tracing the back of Suguru’s neck like a promise: I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.
Outside, the old temple lamps flickered against the night. Inside, Suguru let himself lean — just a little — into the only thing that hadn’t left him behind.