●・○・●・○・●
CHAPTER FIVE,
lessons

—

༇ "WHERE is the lighter?"

Hana shrugs. Kaoru replies, "I don't know," for the fifth time, as it's the fifth time Baya has asked.

"It can't just have disappeared!" She slams the drawer closed.

"It's okay, Mama," Hana assures. "They're just candles."

"But you guys love our candles." Baya sits down with a sigh. "I'll buy a new lighter today. You guys didn't take it, did you?"

"No, Mama," they repeat for the sixth time.

"Maybe Papa took the lighter," Kaoru suggests.

"No, why would he—" she stops speaking halfway through her sentence. Slowly, her eyebrows furrow. "One, two, three..." she counts lowly. "...four, five, six?"

"What're you counting?"

"Nothing, honey." She grabs her phone to text Chishiya.

Are you telling me you've escalated from burning 3 people to 6????? She presses send.

A few minutes later, he replies, Technically 7, if burning one person twice counts. 

"Shit."

Hana gasps. "You cursed—"

"Don't point it out!" Kaoru hisses.

Hana gives him a pointed look, then turns to Baya. "Mama, Kaoru says the F-word every day."

Baya is too overwhelmed to properly respond. "F-word?"

"Yeah. And Papa, too!"

"Your father barely curses. You're lying," Baya mumbles. She rubs her forehead, murmuring more curses. Of course Chishiya found out. Of course he immediately took care of the men who hurt her. With fire. Once again.

"I'm not lying!" Hana protests. "They're always like 'functional this—' and 'functional that—'."

"Ohh, that F-word."

"What other F-word do we have?"

"For starters—"

"Kaoru."

"It would expand her vocabulary—"

"Kaoru."

"Sorry."

Baya groans. "Okay, okay, listen—first of all, stop snitching on each other like it's your job. Second, nobody is allowed to say any F-words unless you're talking about 'functional,' got it?"

Kaoru opens his mouth.

Baya lifts a finger. "And I mean it. I'm still recovering from finding out your father is out here barbecuing people again," she blurts out.

Hana, eyes wide, leans forward. "Is that why he took the lighter?"

"Who said he took the lighter?" Baya panics. "You don't know he took it."

"He always takes things when you're upset," Kaoru says. "Last time you cried, he came home with blood on his sleeve."

"That was spaghetti sauce."

"Spaghetti sauce doesn't dry brown."

Baya claps her hands loudly, once. "Alright! No more commentary. No more crime talk. No more F-words!"

"But you said shi—"

"No more anything! Sit. Down. Both of you."

Hana and Kaoru plop onto the floor like guilty puppies. Baya stands up, phone still in hand, pacing.

She texts again: Are you serious? Seven?? What if they trace it back to us? What if they find your DNA or something on melted skin or whatever??

He replies immediately. I'm not an amateur.

Baya throws her head back and groans so loud the kids jump.

"Are you okay, Mama?" Hana asks nervously.

"No," she mutters, and then adds, "Yes. I don't know. No. Maybe."

She texts one last thing before tossing her phone aside: If the police show up, YOU explain the lighter. I'm going to pretend I don't know you.

You told me you'd love me even if I was a criminal.

"That was metaphorical!" Baya yells at the phone.

"Mama, who are you talking to?" Hana asks.

"No one," Baya mutters. "No one at all."

It's Friday, a few minutes after Hana and Baya picked Kaoru up from school. In a few months, Hana and Kaede will also start elementary school.

"Let's check if Kuina is home," Baya decides. "We have something to tell you. A sweet surprise."

The kids put their shoes back, followed by their jackets. Kaoru had to readjust it ten times before he'd satisfied. It's getting colder outside these days. Then, the three of them make their way across the street, to Kuina, Aguni, and Ann's house.

"What's the surprise?" Hana asks.

In front of the door, Baya crouches down to meet their eyes. "Kuina adopted a girl from the orphanage," she announces. "She's been here for a few weeks now, but she's a bit shy. Kuina wanted to let her adjust before she met the other kids."

"Has Kaede met her yet?"

"No. Not yet." Baya stands back up and rings the bell. "Be nice."

The door opens a moment later, and Kuina appears.  "Hey, there," she greets, ruffling Kaoru's hair.

Baya smiles as they enter, already smelling the hint of something sweet. The house always smells like some sort of spice. "You baking?" Baya asks.

"Ann made cinnamon rolls before her shift." Kuina gestures toward the kitchen, where a tray sits cooling. "You can steal one later."

Kaoru and Hana both perk up.

Kuina turns toward the living room. "Nozomi? You wanna come out?"

There's a beat of silence. Then, soft footsteps.

Nozomi appears slowly, peeking out from behind the hallway wall. She's wearing a red, long-sleeved dress covered in white dots and carrying a plush bat. Her hair is black, cut short with bangs.

"This is Nozomi," Kuina says gently. "She's five."

Nozomi blinks at the guests, eyes wide. Her fingers rub the edge of her bat's wing.

Hana steps forward first. "Hi. I'm Hana. I'm six. That's Kaoru, my brother. He's seven. And Kaede, who lives next to us, is also six. I'm older than him, though!"

Kaoru waves a little. "I like your bat."

Nozomi doesn't respond right away, but she clutches the bat closer, then glances at Kuina like she's asking for permission without words. Kuina nods once.

Then, very quietly, Nozomi says, "His name is Momo."

"Momo is cool. You wanna play?"

Nozomi shrinks back a little, then peers at Hana again. "Do you have a bat?"

"I have a dragon," Hana replies. "But he has a ripped wing because Kaoru thought he could fly."

"It was an experiment," Kaoru mumbles.

Nozomi's eyes flicker, just the ghost of a smile curling at her lips. "I like dragons," she whispers. "And experiments. Can I show you my bug jar?"

"Yes," Hana says immediately. "Please."

They disappear down the hall a moment later, Nozomi already speaking a little louder as she explains something about bugs and one caterpillar that's not really a caterpillar.

Kaoru follows a beat behind them, mostly because he hears the word jar and assumes it might explode.

Kuina lets out a long breath. "That went well."

"She's adorable," Baya says, eyes still on the hallway.

The two women sit down at the table. Kuina hands Baya a cinnamon roll, which she gladly takes.

"What you're doing..." Baya starts, sighing lightly. "What you're doing is very good, Kuina. Getting adopted is one of the best things that could happen to an orphan, and I think Nozomi is, or will be, super grateful."

Kuina smiles. "Thank you." A pause. "She'll have my name, but technically, Aguni and Ann are also her... parents. Is that weird? She doesn't call us 'Mama' or 'Papa', so it feels more like... I don't know how to explain it."

"Maybe she will call you that. Maybe she won't. Either way, you're a family."

"Yeah. We're still figuring it out. She calls me 'Kuina,' sometimes 'Kuu.' Aguni is just 'Guni,' and Ann is 'Doctor Ann' because she treated a scratch on her knee the first night." She chuckles.

Baya takes a bite of the cinnamon roll. "This is amazing, by the way. I'm stealing another one later."

"I'll pretend I didn't see it." Kuina leans back slightly in her chair. "You know, she didn't speak at all for the first week. Not a single word. Not even a whisper."

"No?"

"Mm-hmm. Just clung to Momo and sat under the table most of the time. Ann was the one who cracked her. Started drawing with her. Said, 'Let's make up a world where bats are queens and caterpillars ride in cars,' and Nozomi just lit up."

Baya smiles into her cup of tea. "She and Hana are gonna get along scary well."

"I already fear what those two are plotting in the other room."

As if on cue, a loud clang echoes down the hall.

Before either of them can go check, the three kids return: Hana leading the way with a jar full of marbles, Kaoru trailing behind, and Nozomi carefully cradling Momo in both arms.

"No bugs escaped."

"Yet," Kaoru mutters.

Nozomi steps up to Kuina and, without prompting, reaches for her hand. Kuina immediately bends down, eyes meeting hers.

"Can they come over again?"

Kuina melts. "Of course."

Nozomi turns to Hana. "Tomorrow?"

"Yeah!" Hana beams. "You should meet my papa! Do you want to meet my dragon, too?"

"Yes," Nozomi says, more confident this time. "Maybe he and Momo can be friends."

●・○・●・○・●

Later that night, the kids are asleep and Baya sits on the couch. Her arms are crossed. There's a tea mug beside her, untouched and cold. The front door opens with a soft click. Keys rattle.

"You took the lighter."

Chishiya pauses mid-step, then turns to face her. "I needed it."

She raises an eyebrow.

He says nothing.

Baya stands up slowly, arms still folded. "This isn't the Borderlands. This is our life. With kids. With neighbors. With DNA trails and security cameras. You can't keep setting people on fire."

"They hurt you and almost hurt Hana, and they were going to do it again," he says simply. "That's not negotiable."

"I know." Her voice trembles just slightly, her eyes glossy. "And part of me... part of me is grateful. But that doesn't mean I want to wake up one day and find out you've been arrested. Or worse. Our kids don't need to grow up visiting their father through glass."

He hesitates. Then, he reaches out, fingers brushing her cheek. "I'm careful," he says. "I didn't leave a trace. I wore gloves, a mask, parked five blocks away, no cameras—"

"That's not comforting."

"Everything will be okay," he promises. "This just had to be done.

Her lips part, and for a moment, she wants to argue. But then her arms fall to her sides, and she presses into him. "I don't want to lose you."

He kisses her temple. "You won't."

She exhales slowly. "You still owe me a new lighter."

"I'll steal you one from the hospital."

"Shuntarō."

"Kidding."

A short pause. "Other people from the black market might target us now. Do you realize that?"

"I made it seem like another member of the market killed those men," Chishiya says simply.

Baya stares at him for a long moment. "You framed someone?"

"Framed is such a strong word."

"Shuntarō."

"I simply... redirected suspicion. Left evidence, nothing incriminating for us. Just enough to spark infighting. No one will look this far outside their circle."

Baya closes her eyes, running a hand through her hair. "I'm going to hell for loving you."

"You said that nine years ago. You're still here."

She opens her eyes again and gives him a look. "Shut up."

"Is that a request or a reward—"

She groans. "Go shower before I throw you in."

"Join me."

Her jaw sets like she wants to argue, but she doesn't. "You still smell like crime and gasoline."

"That's what the soap's for."

He takes her hand and guides her upstairs without waiting for another argument. Baya doesn't resist.

●・○・●・○・●

Even later that night, Chishiya sits at the kitchen table with a medical journal in front of him and a mug of something warm that he hasn't touched in ten minutes. His glasses are slid halfway down his nose. He's reading the same paragraph over again because he hears footsteps.

Baya walks in, barefoot and wearing one of his sweaters. Her wet hair's up in an effortless knot she swears is ugly but somehow still makes her look infuriatingly ethereal according to Chishiya—which he never says out loud.

"Why are you still up?"

"I live here," he replies dryly.

She rolls her eyes, opening the fridge. "I meant: still sitting at the table, pretending to read the same page."

He doesn't look up. "It's a riveting study. You'd hate it."

She pulls out a tub of ice cream and grabs two spoons. "I'd sleep through it."

"You already sleep through everything."

"Because I'm tired. Your son asked me to pretend to be a bus driver for two hours straight." She snorts, walks over, and sets the ice cream between them.

Chishiya eyes it. She sinks into the chair across from him, pushes one spoon toward him without asking. He takes it after a beat. They eat in silence for a moment.

Her gaze drifts toward the window. "You know," she says, "sometimes I forget what it was like before all of this. Not just the kids, but also the games."

"That's a good thing."

"Is it?"

"Means you're not stuck there."

"Still feels weird," she murmurs.

"You should go to bed," he says. "It's late and you're becoming sentimental."

"I could. But then I'd miss out on this thrilling... medical journal date."

"You're staying for the ice cream."

She shrugs. "And the company."

He looks at her, properly this time, and she meets his gaze. Baya is mid-bite when a sound makes both of them freeze.

Footsteps. Tiny ones. Chishiya lowers his spoon like he's just been caught committing more arson. Baya's eyes widen as she turns toward the hallway — just in time to see Hana, blinking sleepily in the doorway.

Her eyes lock onto the kitchen table. Then the tub of ice cream. Then them.

"You're eating the good one from the tub," she says flatly. "Papa said germs are—"

Baya, already sliding the tub behind the fruit bowl, smiles too quickly. "Hey, sweetheart. What are you doing up?"

"I had a dream," Hana mumbles. "But also... I definitely smelled ice cream."

Baya kicks Chishiya under the table.

He stands, scoops Hana effortlessly into his arms before she can get a single step closer to the evidence, and starts walking her back toward the hall.

She flails weakly. "I saw it! You're lying! You're ice cream liars!"

Chishiya says nothing.

"Wait, don't I get some—"

The door to her room closes. A moment later, he reappears, sits down, adjusts his hoodie sleeve like nothing happened, and picks his spoon back up. They eat another few bites in peace, only the soft scrape of metal on plastic breaking the silence.

"We're terrible people."

"Correct. But she'll thank me. I just saved her from a sugar rush at night."

"You're gonna have to buy a new tub tomorrow."

"No. You are. I have surgery at seven."

●・○・●・○・●

They've migrated to the living room. The empty ice cream tub sits abandoned on the kitchen counter. Chishiya is stretched across one end of the couch, legs out. Baya's curled at the opposite end, socked feet tucked under her, a blanket on her lap. The TV is on, but muted.

"I could totally do that," Baya says, watching a contestant burn a meringue mountain into golden perfection.

"You can barely toast bread," Chishiya replies without looking up from his phone.

"That was one time. The toaster was on fire."

"Because you put a fork in it."

"To get the bagel out."

"Metal. In a toaster."

"It was a very good bagel."

"Was it worth your life?"

"No. But it was worth the fork."

Chishiya sets his phone down and shifts. "You know, I keep waiting for the day your survival instincts actually activate."

"Don't hold your breath."

"I know when not to."

Baya nudges his foot with hers under the blanket. "You're such a nerd."

"You're such a fire hazard."

"Says you." She grins. "And you still married me."

"Poor judgment."

"I'm lovable."

"You're combustible."

"I contain multitudes." Baya exhales slowly and picks at a stray thread on the blanket. "Hey."

Chishiya hums in acknowledgment.

She hesitates. "So... I've been thinking."

He looks at her immediately.

"I think I want to start working again. Not at the black market, obviously, but..."

Chishiya blinks. "Working?"

"Yeah." She nods. "A job. Something small, maybe part-time. I don't know."

A beat. Then he says, "Okay." Just like that.

She laughs, surprised. "That's it? No questions?"

"I'm assuming you've thought about it."

"I have. Kind of a lot."

"Then what's the problem?"

Baya shifts again, wrapping the blanket tighter around her. "It's been, like, ten years. Since I've done anything with a paycheck. You've always just... taken care of everything. And I know it's not necessary. But with Hana going to school soon and Kaoru getting more independent, I've been thinking a lot about who I am outside of a housewife. I just want to contribute more."

"You don't have to prove your value in this house with money."

"I know," she says. "I want to feel it anyway." She meets his eyes. "So you're not secretly panicking about this?"

"No," he says. "But I am panicking about what industry you'll choose."

She laughs again, this time less nervous and leans over. "You really think I can do it?"

He gives her a long look. "You can do literally anything." A short pause. "Even if some things take you... really long."

She smiles widely. "Maybe a bookstore job. Or a plant shop. Or... maybe I'll go back to school."

●・○・●・○・●

Three days later, Baya sits on the living room rug. Chishiya walks in, still in scrubs, hair slightly disheveled from a long shift. He pauses in the doorway.

"I've expanded my search," she mutters, clicking through a job ad.

Chishiya crouches down beside her, squinting at the screen. "Is that one looking for someone who can make thirty cupcakes an hour?"

"Yes."

"Can you make thirty cupcakes an hour?"

"I can make four. If I don't decorate them."

"Pass."

She sighs and scrolls again. "This one's for a cashier at a home goods store. But it says 'must lift twenty pounds regularly.'"

"What exactly are you looking for?"

"I don't know," Baya admits. "Something flexible. Not too far. Not something that makes me feel like I aged five years by lunch break. And not something where I have to talk to twelve angry people per hour."

Chishiya hums. "Narrow it down more. What sounds fun?"

She thinks. "A plant shop, maybe. Or a little independent café with mismatched mugs. Something cozy."

He reaches over and shuts her laptop gently. "So go out. Walk around tomorrow. Check the shops. Talk to people."

She looks at him like he's asked to divorce. "Talk. To people. About jobs."

"Yes."

"What if they say no?"

"What if they say yes?"

She frowns at him. "Stop being rational. I'm too scared!"

"You can be scared."

"But?"

"But you'll still do it," he says. "Because you don't know how not to once you've decided on something."

She bumps her shoulder into his. "That's either the nicest thing you've said, or the most backhanded."

"Why not both."

They sit there a moment longer. Then she sighs. "Okay. Tomorrow. I'll go into town. I'll look. I'll even speak words."

●・○・●・○・●

The cafe she has an interview at is small. Brick walls and overgrown plants in hanging pots. Baya stands just inside the door, clutching her tote bag like it's going to fly away. She's early. Too early. But she didn't want to risk being late, so now she's stuck pretending to look at the board while her stomach does something deeply unpleasant.

The girl behind the counter glances up. "You here for the interview?"

Baya jumps slightly. "Yes. Hi. Baya. I mean, that's my name. Not yours. Unless it is. Then... cool."

The barista blinks. Then smiles. "You're fine. Take a seat, the manager will be right out."

Baya nods, heart thudding. She chooses a table, sits awkwardly, crosses her legs, uncrosses them, then rearranges her blouse.

She mutters under her breath: "You've eaten a piece of your dead best friend's hand. You can handle this."

A door creaks. A woman in her forties steps out, apron dusted with flour. "You must be Baya," the woman says, extending a hand. "I'm Etsuko. Owner, baker, accidental plumber."

Baya stands to shake the hand. "Hi. Nice to meet you."

"Come on back. Let's chat." They move into the staff-only section: a narrow hallway that leads into a room no larger than a closet.

Baya perches on a stool. Etsuko takes the other.

"So," Etsuko says, pulling out a clipboard. "What made you apply here?"

"I want to start doing something that belongs to me. Not a big, impressive job, just something small. Something where I don't get screamed at by customers or buried under deadlines. And... I like the way it smells in here."

"You ever worked in a café before?"

"No," she admits.

"Can you lift a tray with six mugs on it?"

"Yes."

"Can you smile at a rude customer?"

"I can try."

Etsuko grins. They go through the basics: availability, pay, hours. Baya's honest about everything. She just tells the truth, even when it sounds messy. Etsuko doesn't seem to mind. In fact, she seems to prefer it.

"You're likable," she says after a long pause. By the end of the interview, Baya is still nervous, except it's the good kind now.

Etsuko walks her back to the front. "I'll call you tomorrow," she says. "But I think you'd fit in here."

"Thank you so much," Baya stammers. "Have a nice day!"

●・○・●・○・●

Hana's bedroom door is cracked open, a faint strip of light spilling onto the hallway floor, her galaxy projector still spinning constellations on her ceiling. Kaoru's room is dark, but ever so often, they can hear him stir.

Baya's curled up sideways on the couch. She's flipping through a manga she's read five times, not really focused. She just finished telling Chishiya everything about the job interview.

Chishiya passes her a hot mug without a word.

She sips, then slumps into his shoulder. He wraps one arm around her waist. "I've been thinking," he says.

"About what?"

"A change."

Her eyes flick to his face. "Good change or bad?"

"Neither. Just... different. I'm going to start a new course next month."

She straightens. "A course?"

"A specialization," he clarifies. "Pediatric cardiovascular surgery."

"Wait. Kids?"

He nods.

"You want to operate on tiny hearts now?"

He gives a faint smile. "Yes."

There's a beat of silence. Then she grins, wide and warm. "Oh my God. That's so... Shuntarō, that's so cute—"

"It's not cute."

"It's so cute."

"It's medical."

"And cute."

He sighs, but the edge of his mouth twitches upward. She rests her forehead against his collarbone. "What made you want to do that?"

"I think... watching Kaoru and Hana grow up," he says. "And realizing how much I care when their bodies so much as twitch wrong. It made me think about other parents. Kids who aren't as lucky. I mean, I have the skills, I just haven't aimed them towards kids."

She shifts so she can look at him better, hand cupping his cheek. "That's amazing. Truly. I always knew you had a tiny bit of mush somewhere in there," she teases.

"Don't tell anyone," he mutters.

"You're gonna be amazing at it. Do you need help picking courses? Or do you want me to quiz you while you fold laundry?"

"I might regret this, but yes."

●・○・●・○・●

Chishiya walks into the kitchen in his usual quiet morning haze, slippers shuffling against the tile. He pours coffee. He sips. He blinks.

Then he looks up. There is orange juice. On the ceiling.

He does not speak. He does not sigh. He simply turns and walks away. In the hallway, he passes Kaoru, who is wearing a superhero cape and dragging a mop soaked in jam. Behind him, Hana is carrying a bucket of pink glitter water.

"Do I even want to ask?" Chishiya says, voice flat.

Hana grins up at him. "We're cleaning!"

"With jam?"

"Sticky messes need sticky cleaning," Kaoru says.

Chishiya closes his eyes for a beat. Then he opens them. "Living room. Now."

He doesn't usually sit them down for serious talks. That's Baya's department, usually full of dramatic gasps and exaggerated consequences like. But today, Chishiya is seated in his armchair. "Sit."

Kaoru and Hana sit. Slowly. As if they know this is no longer about jam.

"There is one thing. One room. One rule. That is non-negotiable." He looks them each in the eye. "My office. Is. Forbidden."

Kaoru leans back. "But—"

"No. Absolutely not. You may not enter. Not for a second. Not even to peek."

Hana tilts her head. "But what if a ghost goes in there and we need to—"

"No. If a ghost goes in, you let it haunt me. That's my problem."

Kaoru's brow furrows. "What if—"

"No 'what ifs.' No 'maybe just this once.'." He leans forward, resting his arms on his knees. "You are not to go near the door. You are not to open it. And under no circumstance should you ever—ever—touch anything inside."

"What if—"

"Touch nothing. Not a paperclip. Not a pen. Not the carpet. Not the air. Nothing."

The kids glance at each other. Chishiya sees it and sharpens his tone.

"If you disobey me," he says slowly, "you will receive multiple punishments. If you touch anything in my office—if your fingerprints land on so much as the door—I will take your most beloved toys and auction them on the internet. No screen time for two weeks. You'll clean the entire house, every single spot. No seeing your friends for a month."

Hana raises her hand. "...Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why can't we go in there?"

"Because I said so."

"That's not a real reason. It will only make us curious."

"Hana, I'm serious. Do not enter my office. Ever."

"But what do you do in there?" Kaoru asks.

"Work."

"That's boring," Hana mumbles.

"Exactly."

They stare at him. He stares back.

"If I find out you've gone in there... there will be consequences. Do you understand?"

They nod slowly.

He raises a brow. "Say it."

"We understand," they mumble.

"Louder."

"We understand," they say in unison.

He sighs. "I'm installing a lock."

Hana whispers, "That just makes it even more suspicious. We have to know."

Chishiya stands, calm as ever. "Try it, and you'll spend your next Saturday cleaning the garage with toothbrushes."

He walks away.

●・○・●・○・●

When he enters the office, he closes the door gently. Then he locks it.

His fingers move automatically to the corner of the desk. He crouches. Lifts the loose floorboard with a precise flick.

The cards.

The real, original cards from the Borderlands. Every single one.

He had tried to burn them. He had tried to cut them apart. When he did that, the card became entirely black and a weird chemical smell spread in the air. He decided to keep them hidden from the world. Even Baya doesn't know they're here.

●・○・●・○・●

It's a Sunday afternoon. Peaceful. Or at least, it should be.

Baya and Chishiya are sitting on the living room couch like statues, both holding mugs, hers with tea, his with coffee that's long gone cold. Neither speaks. Neither moves. Their eyes are dead. Their souls have left the building.

From the kitchen, the sound of a drawer being pulled out too hard. Then a scream. Then laughter. Then the unmistakable sound of glass breaking.

Baya takes a slow sip, eyes still unfocused. "They've reached the pantry."

Chishiya nods slowly. "I heard the cereal hit the floor five minutes ago."

Feet thunder down the hallway. Hana rushes by wearing one of Chishiya's old lab coats, splattered in some kind of fluorescent goo, yelling, "I am a scientist!"

Kaoru follows right after, covered in marker. "You cannot escape the consequences, Hana!"

Baya blinks. "Should we intervene?"

Chishiya glances toward the mess without any real intention of moving. "They're still alive."

Hana crashes into the coffee table, rights herself without slowing down, and flings a sock full of rice over her shoulder. Kaoru shrieks. The sock explodes somehow. Rice rains through the house.

Chishiya slowly leans forward and pulls a single grain of rice from Baya's hair. "They're feral," she mutters. "We failed."

There's a sudden quiet.

"MAMA, THE VACUUM IS ON FIRE!"

Neither moves."If we don't look, it doesn't exist."

A second later, Kaoru skids into the room again, panting. "Do we... do we own a fire extinguisher or..."

Hana appears behind him. "I solved the fire problem with water and screaming."

"Effective," Baya says.

Kaoru points to the wall. "Also, we drew a mural."

Chishiya finally blinks. "With what?"

Hana beams. "Your nice pens."

"Ah," Chishiya exhales. "Those were expensive."

"I'm sorry," she says, not looking even a little sorry.

He stares at her for a long beat. "You're grounded until I recover emotionally."

Kaoru sits criss-cross on the coffee table. "Want to see our invention?"

"No," both parents say in unison.

"Too late," Hana chirps, hitting a button on the remote. The TV turns on, but it's upside down.

"How... how did you even—" Baya starts, then stops. "No. I don't want to know."

Chishiya slouches deeper into the couch. "My medical degree did not prepare me for this."

"Your DNA did this," Baya reminds him.

He side-eyes her. "You ate glue as a child."

"You stole a corpse."

They stare at each other. Then clink mugs.

From the hallway: "Hana thinks Cinnamon can talk!"

Neither adult blinks. Chishiya looks into the void. "One day they'll move out."

Baya hums. "I can't wait. On the other side, I never want them to leave."

"Same. There is mayo on the walls," he mutters.

Baya sighs. "Is that what that is?"

"I'm going to call Ann for forensic examination."

Kaoru crashes into a side table. A lamp tips. Falls. Chishiya moves to catch it, misses, and it shatters on the floor. He exhales slowly.

Baya winces. "That's the third lamp this month."

"They're going to run out of things to destroy."

"Don't say that. You'll summon them."

"We made a lake!" A wet sound from the hallway.

Chishiya rises from the couch. He walks to the hallway. Stops. And stares. There is water everywhere. Towels. Soap. Kaoru is paddling. Hana is throwing rubber ducks. Cinnamon is on a shelf.

Baya peers over his shoulder. "Wow."

POP. They've brought balloons into the mix. Filled with mystery liquid.

Chishiya slowly turns to her. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"My last remaining nerve. It's snapping."

Baya places a gentle hand on his arm. "You're twitching."

The children continue making chaos. Screams echo through the house. Water floods the hallway.

Chishiya steps into the water, eyes narrowed. "Alright," he says. "Everyone put the ducks down. Down. I swear on every piece of lab equipment I own, if one more glitter balloon explodes in this house—"

Pop.

He closes his eyes, soaking wet.

●・○・●・○・●

The lake has been drained. The glitter gone. The ducks went to the bathtub. And now there is silence.

The kids sit on the couch, wrapped in towels.

Chishiya stands in front of them. Arms crossed. Still soaking wet. Glitter stuck in his hair. A single rubber duck lodged in his pocket.

He clears his throat.

Kaoru gulps.

Hana tries to smile. "Hi, Papa."

"Don't."

Hana peeps.

He holds up a single finger. "Do you know what this is?"

Kaoru blinks. "...A finger?"

"This," Chishiya says slowly, "is the amount of mercy I have left."

Kaoru and Hana both shrink into the couch cushions.

He paces once in front of them. "You turned the hallway into a water park. You violated five household laws. You nearly drowned Cinnamon. There is syrup in my sock drawer."

"We were being creative!"

"Creative is painting. Creative is building a volcano for science class. You know what isn't creative?" He pulls the glittery duck from his pocket. "This."

He tosses it into the laundry basket. Then he claps his hands once. "Alright. Here's what's going to happen."You will each write me a ten-paragraph apology."

Kaoru blinks. "Ten—"

"Paragraphs," Chishiya says again, in a tone that promises doom. "With an introduction. And citations."

Hana gasps. "Citations of what?!"

"Sources. Your thoughts. Your regrets. I don't care. Figure it out." He softens just slightly. Kneels down so he's eye level with them. "But more than anything else, the floor was soaked. There were electrical outlets. You could've gotten hurt."

Now the kids go quiet. Kaoru stares at his dad. "You were scared?"

"There are exactly four things that scare me."

"Which are?"

"One, my kids getting hurt. Two, losing your mother. Three, your mother."

"What's the fourth?"

"Is it the cards?"

"No."

"It must be."

"No." Chishiya crosses his arms. "It's the six-year-old boy that lives next door, son of Yuzuha Usagi and Ryohei Arisu."

"Kaede scares you?"

"He is going to steal Hana. I just know," Chishiya mutters. "Anyway." He stands up. "Now. Apologies. Glitterless. Double spaced. Go."

The kids groan in sync and shuffle off.

●・○・●・○・●

Chishiya, unshaken by most things, finally breaks. Baya knows something is wrong the moment the air shifts. There's no laughter. No footsteps. No humming.

"Get. Out."

The voice makes her blood run cold. She rushes to the hall, laundry basket tight in her arms and freezes.

The office door is open. Wide. He never leaves it open. And inside, it's a disaster.

Drawers pulled from their hinges. Torn folders. Broken scalpels. Models in pieces. Vials of ancient substances, irreplaceable, turned upside down, their contents soaking into paper and hardwood.

And in the middle of the chaos: His medical license. Bent. Covered in childish writing and glitter and sticky fingerprints.

Baya steps forward without thinking.

"Shun—"

He lifts his eyes to her, slow.

"Yuzuki, please leave."

She hesitates. Then backs away, eyes lingering on the kids, Kaoru frozen stiff, Hana trembling.

She places the basket on the floor and vanishes around the corner.

The door clicks shut behind her.

Chishiya doesn't move at first. Then he steps into the room slowly. Kaoru opens his mouth, but Chishiya cuts in before a word is spoken.

He walks to the license and stops to pick it up. Turns it over in his hands. A heart drawn in pink marker. "#1 DAD" written in large letters. Stars and glitter and smiley faces coating the text of his full name.

For a long moment, he just looks at it. Then he laughs. It's the ugliest sound the kids have ever heard. Not amused. Not angry. Just bitter. "This took years. Years of sleep deprivation, exams, rotations, surgeries, papers, humiliation, blood, failure, starting over. Years for a piece of paper that told the world I mattered."

He sets it down. "Then I met your mother. Then I had you. You became more important than my license, but that didn't mean it is no longer important." He turns to face them fully now. "I gave you everything. Everything. And the one thing I kept—the one thing—I asked you not to touch... you destroyed."

"We... we thought we could surprise you, make it pretty—"

"It's about the fact that you knew. I told you. I sat you down. I made it clear." He swallows hard. His hands are clenched. "I am furious with you."

Hana begins sobbing.

Chishiya doesn't look at her.

"I am so disappointed. In both of you. And I don't know when that's going to stop."

He turns back to the license. Gathers it carefully, even now. Then heads for the door. "I don't want to see you. I don't want to hear you. I don't want an apology yet, because I won't believe it." He glances over his shoulder. "I'll never believe it. There is no possible excuse for doing such thing."

Chishiya grips the doorframe, his shoulders tense, his breathing shallow. But then he turns back around and slams the door shut behind him with a crack that makes Kaoru flinch and Hana wail harder. "You had everything!" he raises his voice. "Do you know what I had when I was your age? Nothing. Do you know what your mother had? Nothing, either. No parents like this. No safety. No warm home. No parents who would throw themselves in front of a gun for you. I gave you everything I never had, and you still thought it was okay to destroy the one thing I kept for myself?"

Hana falls to her knees, covering her ears, sobbing uncontrollably. Chishiya's voice cuts through anyway. "You live in a house where we tell you the truth. Where we teach you things. We give you boundaries. We teach you how to respect what matters, and you knew it mattered!"

"I- I just wanted to—"

"You wanted to? You wanted to what? You've never been beaten. You've never starved. You have no idea what it takes to survive out there. We tried to protect you from ever having to know. And you repay us by tearing apart the one room I asked you not to enter?"

Hana sobs harder, crawling to Kaoru and clinging to his side. "I'm s-sorry—!"

"No. You're sorry because you're scared. Not because you understand. Not because you care—"

Chishiya's voice is still echoing through the office when Kaoru suddenly blurts, "It was my fault!"

Chishiya freezes. Turns slowly.

Kaoru's voice wavers, but he forces the words out. "It wasn't her. Hana just wanted to give you a card. I was the one who said we should make everything in here better."

"Better," Chishiya repeats. "Better? You thought this—" He gestures to the ruined room—"was better?"

Kaoru stands, wobbling a little, but straightens his back. "You never let us in here. We didn't know what anything was. But we just... we see you come in here and close the door. And when you come out, you look tired. You never smile in here. So I thought... maybe if it looked more like us, more like home, it would make you happy. We didn't mean to break anything!" He cries. "We were just trying to hang stuff up, but the shelf fell, and the water spilled, and then Cinnamon stepped in it, and... and everything kept getting worse. I tried to fix it but I couldn't, and then Hana tried to clean your license but it got wet! We tried to fix it by writing on it, but we now understand that wasn't a good choice. We just wanted to make it feel like home, so you'd be less sad—"

"No," Chishiya interrupts him. "I don't want to hear it. I don't care, okay, Kaoru? I told you not to come in here, no matter what. And you still did. I don't care about your sob story."

●・○・●・○・●

Hana's feet barely make a sound as she tiptoes downstairs in her socks. She rounds the corner, clutching the stair rail.

Chishiya sits in the living room, reading something in a thick binder His expression is unreadable.

"Papa?" Her voice is a squeak. Weak. Ashamed. Hopeful. He doesn't answer. Doesn't even look up.

She swallows and steps closer, lip trembling. "I—I couldn't sleep..."

Nothing.

"I feel really bad," she whispers. "Really, really bad. About your room. About your license. I didn't mean to ruin it. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do something bad."

Still nothing.

She comes closer. "Papa—"

He finally lifts his eyes.

She reaches for his hand. "I really, really, really am sorry," she says, breath hitching. "I promise I'll fix it, I'll help clean, I'll do anything, just please don't be mad at me anymore."

He doesn't move.

She rests her hand on his sleeve. It's trembling. "Hug?"

He closes the binder slowly. Then lifts his arm—not to hug her, but to remove her hand from him.

His fingers touch her wrist. And push it away. Her eyes go wide. Tears spring up instantly.

He finally speaks. "Go upstairs."

Hana's throat closes. "But—"

His gaze sharpens. "Now."

Her voice cracks, "But I just wanted—"

"I don't want anything from you right now, Hana."

Her legs move before her brain can keep up. Her face crumples. Her hands shoot up to cover her sobs as she turns and runs back down the hall, up the stairs, stumbling over her own feet.

The sound of her crying echoes faintly, getting smaller and smaller. He doesn't look up again. In the dim warmth of the lamp, Chishiya keeps reading in silence.

Upstairs, the kids' eyes are swollen. Hana clutches her brother's sleeve tightly. They walk straight into their parents' bedroom, where their mother is sitting at her vanity, brushing her hair slowly. Her reflection catches them in the mirror.

"Mama." Hana's voice breaks instantly. Her eyes brim again. "We're sorry."

Kaoru nods beside her. "We didn't mean to make Papa hate us."

At that, Baya turns around. Her face is tired. Pale. She just... looks at them. "You ruined the one room he asked you not to go in."

"We thought it wouldn't be a big deal—" Kaoru starts.

"But it was," Baya cuts in, sharply. "It was a big deal. You broke things. You scribbled all over his license. Do you know what that was?"

They shake their heads, eyes wide.

"That paper was his entire career," Baya says. "His whole life, before he met me. Before he met you. What he worked years for. And you... you painted it like it was a coloring book. And you didn't just peek. You destroyed it."

Hana reaches out for her. "We're sorry, Mama..."

But Baya steps back. "No. Not this time." Her voice trembles, but she doesn't waver. "You need to sit with this. You need to understand what it means to cross someone's boundaries just because you felt like it."

Kaoru's lip quivers. "Are you mad at us?"

"Yes," she says. No hesitation. "I love you more than anything in the world. But I'm mad. And you should be ashamed."

Hana presses her face into Kaoru's arm to cry again. He tries to stay strong, but tears slip down his face too.

"Go back to bed," Baya says softly. "And don't come out until morning."

Neither of them moves.

"Go."

Slowly, they turn. Drag themselves out of the room with hunched shoulders and quiet sobs, holding each other as they go.

●・○・●・○・●

The morning after the disaster, the house is quiet.

Baya crosses her arms and eyes the craft boxes on the floor. "We're really doing this?"

Chishiya, sleeves rolled up, peels the backing off a neon sticker. "Absolutely."

Earlier that morning, the two of them had silently gathered every sticker sheet in the house, every craft box, every glitter pen and roll of washi tape. Anything sparkly, bright, or colorful.

Kaoru's room is first.

Stickers on the walls. Stickers on the ceiling. Stickers on his bedframe, his pillowcase, his backpack, his drawer handles. Chishiya finds a stash of Kaoru's mangas and places a sticker on one of them.

"Too far?" Baya whispers.

"No," Chishiya says flatly.

They move to Hana's room next. Unicorn stickers. Sparkly fake jewels glued to her lamp. Purple glitter glue spelling out letters. Baya takes it a step further and uses a hot pink marker to draw fake eyebrows on one of her plushies.

Chishiya fills her drawers with glitter. Just a fine dusting. Enough to get under her nails for days.

They retreat downstairs with satisfied silence.

Later, when Kaoru and Hana hesitantly wander back upstairs, Baya calls after them innocently, "Let us know if you need anything!"

Silence for a moment.

Then— "What the heck!?"

"MY BED IS STICKY!"

Baya is laughing before she even gets to the stairs. Chishiya just sips his tea.

Kaoru and Hana run downstairs. "Mama! Papa!" Hana wails. "What did you do to our rooms?!"

"Just redecorated. You inspired us."

"Don't like it?" Baya says with a shrug. "You made Papa's office so beautiful yesterday, we thought you wanted to start an art movement."

Kaoru flushes. Hana pouts furiously.

"But our rooms are ruined!"

Chishiya leans back on the couch and says flatly, "Now imagine if it had been something that took ten years to earn."

The kids freeze.

Baya watches how their expressions slowly melt from fury to guilt and then gently nudges them both toward the couch. "You messed up," she says, voice softer now. "But this is your chance to fix it. Apologies are just the start."

Kaoru looks at his hands. Hana's eyes are wet again.

"We'll clean everything," Kaoru whispers. "Even your office."

"We'll be so careful next time," Hana adds.

Chishiya isn't done. "First," he says flatly, "we're going to talk about boundaries. Boundaries are rules that people create to protect their space, time, energy, and belongings. They are meant to be respected."

"Can anyone tell me what happened when someone's boundary was not respected last night?" Baya adds.

Kaoru mutters, "The world ended?"

Hana says nothing. She just hides behind a pillow.

Chishiya eyes them both. "Close. I told you not to go into my office. I explained the reasons. I was very clear. And what did you do?"

"Went in anyway."

Chishiya nods once. "And what happened?"

"We ruined everything," Hana says. "We know."

"No," Chishiya corrects, "you ruined my trust. There are things in this house you don't understand," he continues. "Things that are important to me. You don't have to understand them to respect them."

Baya leans in, her voice gentler. "And this goes for everyone, not just this household. There are rules in the world that you might not like. Teachers will give you instructions you don't agree with. Friends will ask for space. People will set boundaries that feel annoying or strict. That doesn't mean you get to ignore them."

"But it's hard sometimes!" Hana blurts, eyes wet again. "We weren't trying to be mean..."

"We know," Baya says softly. "But you need to learn how to control what you feel and how you act."

"This house is your home," Chishiya says. "But that doesn't mean you own it. There are rooms you can go into, and rooms you cannot. Objects you can touch, and things that are off limits. People's time, their space, their moods—these are all things you learn to be careful with." He leans forward just slightly. "And if you want to be treated like people who can be trusted, then you have to act like people who can be trusted."

Kaoru is staring at the floor. Hana's sniffling.

There's a long pause.

Then Baya brightens a little, flipping her clipboard. "So! Let's talk about the new house rules. There are only five. But they're non-negotiable."

She points at the first one.

Never go into someone's private space without permission.

"That means bedrooms, offices, bathrooms, closets, whatever. You knock. You ask. You wait for a yes."

Clean up after yourselves.

Baya looks directly at Kaoru. "That includes Legos in the hallway at midnight. I'm still limping."

If you break something, you tell us. Immediately.

"You don't lie. You don't hide it. Accidents happen. Dishonesty is worse."

Speak kindly. Even when you're upset.

"Because yelling or slamming doors doesn't fix anything," Baya says. "It just makes people sad."

When someone says no, you listen.

There's another long pause. The kids look defeated, but thoughtful.

"Are we grounded?" Kaoru asks in a small voice.

"Not grounded," Chishiya says. "But your crafting privileges are suspended for one week."

"And," Baya adds, "you're helping your father sort through his office to see if anything can be saved. And writing apology letters."

"At least ten pages," Chishiya says.

"Each," Baya finishes.

The kids groan, but they don't argue.

●・○・●・○・●

Eight-year-old Hana sits on a picnic blanket in the middle of the yard, legs crossed, a marker clutched in each hand. Her sketchpad is open in front of her.

Kaede lingers nearby. Not with her, not exactly. Just close enough to look like he might be walking by. Again. It's his fourth time.

The first time, he kicked a soccer ball past her on purpose and then shouted, "Oh wow! I didn't know you were there!"

The second time, he tripped on a tree root and nearly cried.

The third time, he tried to impress her by holding a worm for thirty seconds.

Now, he's just hovering.

Hana finally looks up. "What?"

Kaede shrugs. "Nothing."

She raises an eyebrow. "You're acting like Kaoru when he wants snacks but doesn't want to ask."

He folds his arms and looks away. "I'm not."

"You wanna draw?"

He lights up. "Can I?"

"Sure." She scoots over and hands him a marker. "But you have to draw something real."

Kaede hesitates. Then carefully begins sketching a blob. It eventually becomes a hill. Then he adds a flower. Then a girl with a giant sword standing on the hill.

Hana leans closer. "Who's that?"

He turns red. "Nobody."

"She has my hair."

"No, she doesn't."

"She has my shoes."

Kaede panics. "It's a coincidence."

She stares at him a second longer. Then grins. "You like me."

Kaede makes a noise somewhere between a squeak and a gasp. "What, no, I don't, I mean—"

"You do! You drew me with a sword! That's romantic."

"Since when?!"

"Since always."

Later, they sit in the grass beside a stray cat. Hana doodles a snail with a crown.

He leans over, suddenly serious. "My dad told me how he fell in love with my mom."

Hana's eyes narrow. "Go on."

"He said he kept following her because she was smart and brave and kept making him realize how small his world was."

"Ohhh."

"And then he said love is when someone makes your heart feel like it remembers a song it never heard before."

Hana stares at him.

"That's... kind of weird."

"Yeah. But kind of pretty."

She thinks for a second. "So do you remember a song with me?"

Kaede kicks at the grass. "Maybe."

Hana shrugs. "Okay. Wanna be married and then go get juice?"

Kaede blinks. "Like pretend?"

"Duh. I'm not getting real married. I'm eight. I don't even like brushing my hair."

"...Okay."

They gather daisies for rings and walk around the yard in slow, exaggerated circles, hand in hand.

Kuina catches a glimpse from the kitchen window and almost drops her mug. Kaoru gags dramatically when they announce the wedding to him.

Nozomi, sitting under the porch table with a collection of bottle caps, names herself the guardian of their honeymoon.

Then Hana rips off her flower ring and says, "I'm bored. Let's get juice."

●・○・●・○・●

Chishiya steps onto the porch silently, his coffee in one hand. He watches for a long moment.

Then he strolls down the steps. Kaede looks up as he approaches. "Hi, Shush!"

Chishiya stops. "Kaede."

The boy grins. "We made a house. But it's pretend. Don't worry, we didn't actually move in."

"I see." Chishiya crouches so they're eye level. "Can we have a little chat?"

Kaede nods. "Sure."

"Good." Chishiya sips his coffee. "About your wedding."

Kaede's face turns bright pink. "Oh... that. It was pretend!"

"Of course. And pretend things can still be very important. Even surgery begins with pretend models, you know. Practice makes permanence."

Kaede blinks.

"Let me ask you something, Kaede." Chishiya's voice is still friendly. "Do you know what a heart looks like?"

Kaede tilts his head. "Um... kind of like a strawberry?"

"Close. But not quite. It's actually a muscle and rhythm. And you have to be very careful with it. If you make one wrong move... everything falls apart."

Kaede's eyes widen a bit.

"I work with hearts every day," Chishiya continues. "I open up chests, stitch vessels thinner than your hair. One wrong touch, and the whole thing stops beating."

Kaede nods slowly, unsure where this is going.

"So when I say I know how delicate things are, you can trust me." He sets his coffee down on a stone, still squatting. "Hana is... very special," he says. "And she has a strong heart. But it's still a heart. It still breaks."

"I know," Kaede says quickly. "I would never hurt her."

"I'm glad to hear that." Chishiya's smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. "But just in case... if you ever did, even by accident..." He plucks a leaf from the ground, folds it in half, then in half again — until it crumples in his palm with a soft crunch.

Kaede gulps.

Chishiya stands, brushing the dirt from his slacks. "But of course, I don't think we'll have any problems. You seem like a clever boy. Clever enough to not indulge in her heart at all."

Kaede nods. Furiously.

Chishiya offers a single pat to the boy's shoulder, then turns and walks back toward the porch like nothing happened. Baya is waiting at the door, arms crossed, brow raised.

"Did you just threaten an eight-year-old?" she asks.

"I explained cardiology."

"Uh-huh."

Kaede soon walks back over to Chishiya.

"Shush?" the boy says, too fast.

Chishiya turns a page. "Don't call me that."

"I want to be a gentleman. Teach me."

Chishiya sips his coffee. "I see," he says flatly. "Why?"

"Because Hana said gentlemen don't pick their nose at dinner."

"An excellent reason," Chishiya replies. "But if you're expecting a medal for basic hygiene, you're setting the bar low— though your mother already won that title."

Kaede blinks. "So you'll teach me?"

Chishiya sighs. "Sure. But still, stay away from Hana."

Kaede straightens up.

"Lesson one," Chishiya says. "Listen carefully. I will only say this once."

Kaede nods quickly.

"A true gentleman never underestimates the intelligence of a girl," he begins. "Only the stupidity of her suitors."

"...What?"

"If you treat her like a prize, you'll lose her. If you treat her like a person, she might tolerate you."

Kaede nods. "Okay. Don't be weird."

"No, no. Be weird. Just be smart about it."

He holds up one finger. "Always notice when she changes her hair."

"Why?"

"Because it's a trap. If you miss it, you die."

"Oh."

Chishiya leans in.

"Lesson two: Learn the exact shape of her favorite food."

Kaede furrows his brow. "Like... pizza?"

"No," Chishiya says patiently. "What kind of pizza. What crust. What toppings. What temperature she starts complaining it's too hot."

"That sounds really hard."

"Love is labor intensive. Do you think I just woke up married?"

Kaede stares.

Chishiya continues.

"Lesson three: If she's crying, don't offer solutions."

"But I know stuff."

"You don't," Chishiya says firmly. "Just say, 'That must be hard,' and offer snacks."

Kaede squints. "That sounds fake."

"It's real. It's black magic. Accept it. Lesson four," he says, quieter. "Write her letters."

"Letters?"

"Real ones. Paper. Ink. Not texts. Tell her things no one else notices about her. Keep it in a box. Give them to her when she thinks you've forgotten everything."

"That's... really sweet. Have you ever done that for Sushi?"

"Who the hell is Sushi?"

"Yuzuki. Sounds like Sushi."

Chishiya sighs.

"So? Have you been writing letters for Sushi?"

"Of course not."

"But you said it's a gentleman thing."

"And I didn't say I'm a gentleman."

"Lesson five," Chishiya says. "A gentleman holds the umbrella. Walks on the street side. Carries the bags. Offers the seat. But never makes a girl feel small."

Kaede scribbles frantically. "Hold... bag... seat... but not small..."

Chishiya raises an eyebrow. "Are you writing this with crayon?"

"It's the only thing I had."

"Tragic."

"Lesson six. If anyone else flirts with her, smile politely. Shake their hand. Remember their name. And destroy them privately."

Kaede's pencil slips.

"Huh?"

"I said privately," Chishiya repeats, sipping. "Make it look like they failed at life all by themselves."

Kaede stares, horrified and impressed. "Is this still gentleman stuff?"

Chishiya shrugs. "Gentleman. Assassin. It's a thin line. Lesson seven. Always say things like that when she's not expecting it. But never when she's brushing her teeth. She will choke."

"Do you say stuff like that a lot?"

"Only when she deserves it."

"And when is that?"

"Everyday."

By the time Kaede stumbles back inside, full of notes and mild fear, Usagi finds him staring at a paper that says: RULES: BE NICE. HOLD BAG. LEARN HAIR. DESTROY RIVALS. NEVER SPEAK DURING TOOTHBRUSH.

She blinks. "Did Chishiya talk to you?"

Kaede nods. "I think I learned about love and also how to disappear people."

Usagi pats his head. "Yep. That's Chishiya."

"But Shush said he isn't much of a gentleman. Who else can I ask?"

"Why?"

"Because I want to be the best man alive!" He yells cheerfully. "Who else can I ask?"

"I think Kuina has high standards, so ask her.

"Shush said you have very low standards."

"Did he now?"

"Something about hygiene," he mutters. "Anyway, bye!"

Kaede finds Kuina in the backyard. She's lounging on a lawn chair in a tank top and sunglasses, sipping juice from a wine glass like it's vacation.

"Hi," Kaede says politely, gripping his notebook.

She lifts her sunglasses, eyes him suspiciously. "What's up?"

"I need tips. Gentleman tips."

Her brows rise. "All right," she says, cracking her knuckles. "If anyone insults her, you don't just ignore it. You insult them back, but creatively."

Kaede writes. "Insult... but smart..."

"And if they touch her shoulder..."

Kaede blinks. "What do I do?"

"You fake a karate black belt. Bonus points if you yell a move and fall into a dramatic stance."

"Like... 'WATAAAAAH!'?"

"Exactly. Sometimes subtle doesn't cut it," Kuina says. "So you need to go big. I once saw a guy get his girl's name shaved into the back of his head."

Kaede stares. "Did it work?"

"No. But it was memorable," she continues. "If another girl likes you, you gotta shut that down immediately. You go: 'Sorry. My heart belongs to someone else with sparkly hair."

Kaede stares, then whispers, "She does have sparkly hair..."

Kuina pats his shoulder. "You're doomed. Congrats. Sometimes, you just pick her up and go, 'We leave now.' Very effective."

"Won't she get mad?"

"Yes," Kuina says. "But also flattered. And have a nickname ready."

"Like what?" Kaede asks eagerly.

"Something only you call her."

"...What if she hates it?"

"Then it's working. Always hold the door. Not because she's a girl," Kuina says. "But because it's kind. Whether it's Hana, Usagi, your teacher, or a stranger. You open the door because you can. Because it shows respect."

"What if someone tells me not to?"

"Then you nod and say, 'Of course,' and don't make a big deal. A gentleman never argues kindness. He just adjusts. You carry the heavy stuff. If you're walking next to someone and they're struggling? You help. You don't ask. You just offer."

"Even if I'm small?"

Kuina ruffles his hair. "Then carry the lighter heavy stuff. It's the offer that counts. Real gentlemen do chores. They pick up toys. They wipe tables. Not because someone tells them to, but because they live there too."

"And thanking a lot of people?" He suggests.

"Yes. If someone makes you lunch? Say thank you. If someone plays with you? Say thank you. If someone just sits beside you when you're sad and says nothing? Thank them."

Kaede writes, Say thank you even for quiet.

"If you do that one right, you'll be ahead of most adults." She leans forward. "Even if you're better at something, you never make someone feel stupid or weak. A real gentleman lifts people up. Even when he's winning."

"Even when I'm right?"

"Especially then."