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CHAPTER ELEVEN,
mixed feelings

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༇ THEY'RE in a small coastal town. With cobblestone streets and dozens of shops. The buildings are short and yellowish and don't look like they were designed— just randomly built. There's laundry hanging from balconies and shutters painted with mismatched colors, cracked in places. Every inch of space is used: flowerpots, postcards, cups, people.

Kaoru is not sure what to think of this town in Italy. He walks a little behind his family, as usual. Not because he's angry or distant, but because walking beside them makes his arms feel boxed in, like he can't move the way he wants. Hana's always skipping or spinning or walking too close and brushing his sleeve every two seconds, which he can handle, but only for a while.

He doesn't like unpredictability in physical space. He likes to know how much room he has. He likes structure in his environment.

The truth is, his brain is constantly cataloging things. Not intentionally, it just happens. All the time. He walks and notices that the shop they just passed had one lightbulb blinking slightly.

That the old man on the corner has untied shoelaces.

That the third bell ring they've heard since arriving is slightly off-key compared to the first two.

That one of the stones in the pavement near his left foot is slightly looser than the others, and he'd rather not step on it.

He notices things like that automatically. It's like his brain won't let him not notice.

He also sees patterns. Every fifth window has shutters. Every third child they pass is holding something red.

Kaoru often wonders if anyone else sees these things, but he never asks out loud. He's aware his father observes, just now how much. Surely his father doesn't notice that at the moment, his cheek is slightly flushed because he scratched it several times the past minutes. Kaoru does notice. Immediately. Still, he doesn't mention it.

His mother is walking happily, her dress flowing with each movement. Chishiya walks beside her, one hand resting in his pocket, the other loosely curled near her back. Hana runs up ahead.

Kaoru walks. He focuses on the sound of his own sandals, the regular slap-slap rhythm that comforts him. He tries to block out the other sounds: the scooters, the clinking cups, the conversations in Italian that his brain tries to translate even though he barely speaks it.

He has a little card in his back pocket with emergency instructions. His parents gave it to him. It has his name, his diagnosis, and Chishiya's phone number and a message in Italian.

He doesn't like that card, but he carries it just in case.

A door slams unexpectedly. He flinches. Someone laughs sharply behind him. His hands curl into fists. Hana pulls his sleeve and the touch of her fingers makes his arm twitch involuntarily. A child cries from a balcony. A dog barks. A scooter honks. Two birds fight in the air.

Kaoru tries to focus. He does math in his head. Divides the number of tiles on a shop floor by four. Recites Pi to the eleventh digit.

It works until it doesn't. The smells hit next: sweat, espresso, cologne, leather, something sweet. He turns his face to the side, tries to breathe through his mouth. But the sun is too bright now, piercing his eyes. His shirt starts to stick to his back. He can feel each thread against his spine like tiny spiders crawling.

He's not sure when the buzzing in his head becomes unbearable. A panic that everything is happening all at once and there's no time to filter any of it. His brain isn't sorting anymore, it's just receiving.

Fast, he ducks into an alley. It's narrow and cooler. The walls are old and uneven, and he presses both palms to either side. He stares at the stone beneath his feet and breathes. Four in. Four out.

His skin feels wrong. His ears feel like they're ringing even though there's no sound. His jaw is tight. His breath stutters. His fingers tremble. He presses his knuckles to his forehead. Squeezes his eyes shut.

When he opens them again, Chishiya stands a few feet away, calm.

Kaoru can't speak. He shakes his head, sliding down the wall, onto the ground.

Chishiya steps a little closer. "Can I sit?"

Kaoru nods.

He lowers himself to sit against the opposite wall. He doesn't say anything for a moment, just waits.

"Can we go somewhere quieter?" Kaoru finally asks.

"Yes," Chishiya says. "There's a bookstore a few streets back down. It's quiet there."

They walk slowly, side by side.

When they get there, Baya and Hana are already waiting, as if Chishiya predicted this would happen and told them to go there. Baya smiles softly. Hana walks over and offers him a ring she bought earlier.

He sits in a corner of the bookstore and holds a book in one hand, the ring in the other.

After nearly an hour in the store, Kaoru feels like his head has finally stopped buzzing. The moment he stands up and stretches, Hana bolts out the door.

Some consider her rude for leaving. Others consider Kaoru rude for making her wait. Ultimately, neither of them can do anything about it. Kaoru has a disorder and even if it hadn't been one, he deserves space whenever he needs it. Hana is still working on how to be patient and empathic— she's not heartless, but has trouble keeping in mind how others might feel and how to adjust to that.

They all leave the bookstore and head back into the sunlit streets. It's more manageable now, and Kaoru falls back into the rhythm until they pass a small shop on the corner of a street.

It doesn't look like much at first. A cluttered storefront, shelves too close together, and a strange scent.

"Oh my God," he says.

Baya turns. "What is it?"

Kaoru is already inside.

The shop is a dream. There are games stacked from floor to ceiling: puzzles, marbles, chessboards, maps. But none of it matters compared to what attracted Kaoru: decks.

Dozens of them. Maybe hundreds. Something lights in his chest. In a world that's often too bright, too loud, and too unpredictable, cards are none of those things.

They make sense. And more than that, they're beautiful in a way his brain uniquely understands. He owns over a dozen decks by now. He can feel the difference in the way they shuffle with his eyes closed. He sleeps better with a deck nearby. Sometimes when he's upset, he just touches the edges of the cards, turning them in his fingers until his breathing evens out. He once tried to explain this to Hana and got frustrated halfway through, but he's not ashamed. He just knows his brain works differently.

He walks along the wall slowly, his fingers hovering just near the edges, never quite touching.

Eventually, he stares at one particular deck—black and silver, matte finish, with spirals along the backs. Something about it just clicks.

He forgets everything else. The overstimulation, the noise, the panic. It's gone. There's only this. When he walks out into the street again, his family is waiting.

Hana squeals when she sees the new deck. "Ooooh, which one is it? Can I open it?"

"No," Kaoru says instantly, clutching it to his chest.

Hana groans. "You never let me touch them!"

"They're not toys."

"They kind of are."

"They're not for you."

She sticks her tongue out and he does the same, then they smile.

●・○・●・○・●

Hana lies on the bed in their Italian cabin, legs swinging in the air, feet crossed at the ankles. Her phone is plugged into a charger hanging off the side of the nightstand, and her screen is lighting her face in that blueish glow that her father keeps telling her will ruin her eyes. she's grinning.

"Kaede," she says in a dramatic, breathy tone. "You literally missed everything today. Everything. The heatstroke, the sensory meltdown, the ancient buildings, the card store—like, Kaoru had to sit down in a church to breathe, and Dad looked like he was about to murder a pigeon. Not joking."

Kaede's voice is soft through the speaker. "Are you guys okay, though?"

"Yeah, yeah," Hana waves it off, even though he can't see. "It was just a lot, you know? Like, I don't know how people live here. It's so hot and everyone moves slowly and nothing is refrigerated and my mom almost cried because someone overcharged her because she's a tourist!"

Kaede chuckles. His voice is shy, gentle, and careful. "You're so dramatic."

"I am not!"

"You kind of are," he adds, smiling into his pillow. He's also in his bedroom. The fan spins above him in slow circles. There are tiny stars on his ceiling that still glow faintly from childhood, though he doesn't really believe in them anymore. Except maybe when he thinks of Hana.

She's still talking. "Anyway, there was this store with, like, ancient paper and dried flowers pressed in these glass boxes and Kaede, I swear, if you were here, you would have died. It smelled like old trees and glue. Dad almost gagged. But I thought of you because there was a pressed butterfly that looked exactly like the one we found that summer. Remember? When we were, like, nine?"

Kaede does remember. It had orange wings with black details and Hana had tripped and got dirt in her mouth.

He smiles. "I remember."

She hums. "You better. I was so grossed out and you didn't even help me up. You just poked me with a stick."

"I panicked."

"You always panic. Anyway, we're probably going to this garden thing tomorrow? Or a cathedral. I wasn't listening. Dad said I can pick as long as I don't complain the whole time, but that's, like, an impossible task. And Kaoru got this new deck of cards. It's like his entire brain exists inside of them. Like, he holds them like they're made of diamonds or something. He literally stared at them for two hours after dinner. Oh, and I still haven't convinced my parents to have another baby! How's Miyu? Can I see her? Please? Is she doing well? How did you manage to convince your parents?"

"I didn't do anything. They did this to themselves."

"Accidentally?"

"I don't really know."

"I really need to convince mine, Kaede! I need a little sister. Or brother. But preferably sister."

"Miyu cries at night. For hours long. I don't know if you want it."

"That phase will pass," Hana scoffs. "I'm gonna go ask them again, yeah? Bye!"

"Oh, eh, bye!" He quickly waves, then Hana hangs up, always in a rush. Always hurried— another thing she still needs to learn; listening to others and not getting too excited.

●・○・●・○・●

Hana is getting to her mother. The several years of begging are starting to work. Slowly but surely. The idea of holding another baby of her own is beginning to sound better and better.

Chishiya is across from her in the living room of the cabin, reading (always reading) something weird that seems to relax him. His ankles are crossed. His expression, as always, is neutral.

"I've been thinking about something," Baya says lightly. She regrets the words immediately.

Chishiya glances up at her. "Mm?"

She hesitates. Then: "I've been kind of... entertaining the idea of having another baby?"

There's a pause. He closes the book without using a bookmark. That small action tells her everything before he even opens his mouth. He exhales slowly. "Like, seriously?"

Baya shrugs, trying to seem casual. "I mean, not in a 'let's go get pregnant tonight' kind of way. Just... I don't know. Hana keeps asking. She wants a little sibling. She's been campaigning for one since... I don't know. As long as I can remember. But yeah. I've thought about it. Not just because of Hana, though. I think I'd... like it."

Chishiya is quiet for a long time. She can see him thinking about it, the wheels practically twisting behind his eyes. "I don't love the idea," he admits finally.

"I figured," Baya responds softly, though she glances away.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, interlacing his fingers. "We're older now. Hana and Kaoru are older. We'll have two teens in the middle of puberty along with one baby. We'll have to divide our attention over all three of them."

She nods, silent.

He keeps going, now that the door's open. "And I remember what you went through. Giving birth to Kaoru was hard. Hana wasn't easier. And the recovery—"

"—was survivable," she interrupts, trying to smile.

"But brutal," he adds, not smiling back. "You cried, you bled, and you didn't sleep. I don't want you to go through that again."

She looks away. He's not wrong. She knows he's not. A long silence falls between them.

When she finally speaks, her voice is quieter. "I know you're right," she says. "Maybe it's more like... I don't want to close the door yet."

Chishiya tilts his head slightly, studying her.

"I just..." She fumbles with her thoughts, trying to form something she doesn't want to admit. "The idea of never having another baby... makes me feel like something's ending. Like a phase of life is over. And I didn't get to say goodbye. But if you don't want to, I can accept that. I'm super grateful for Kaoru and Hana."

He's quiet. Then he reaches for her hand, rare for him, and his fingers wrap around hers. "I think it's the right decision. But you're allowed to be sad about it."

She nods. "Okay. Case closed."

Later that night, she finds herself in the bathroom, standing at the sink with a damp towel in her hands, staring down at it as she waits for the bathtub to fill up. Her eyes sting before she even knows why.

She sinks down onto the closed toilet seat, the tiles cold beneath her bare feet, and rests her elbows on her knees. She puts her head in her hands. For a long minute, she just sits there. Breathing. Hearing the soft clink of someone moving in the kitchen. Probably Hana, stealing Chishiya's cookies. Or Chishiya himself, washing a cup before bed because he doesn't like waking up to dishes in the sink.

The tears don't fall right away. They hover until she realizes she doesn't want the case to be closed. Her chest tightens, and her breath hitches. A silent, helpless stream slips from the corners of her eyes and trails down her face.

She remembers the first time she ever said she wanted kids, screaming it at the orphanage when she was six and furious. She hadn't been allowed to go to the field trip because she bit someone. She'd been punished by isolation, and she'd screamed through the tiny crack under the door: I'm going to have ten kids and I'm going to love all of them and I won't send any of them away, ever! Because she wanted a house so loud and so full that she'd never have to hear herself cry again.

She'd meant it. Even as she got older, the number changed, but the ache stayed. The dream didn't come from some perfect picture of family, but it came from lack. From what she didn't have.

Kaoru and Hana were miracles. She's endlessly grateful. She wouldn't trade them for anything. But something in her still aches for more. And not just a baby, but this new moment. This time in her life when someone small clung to her finger and napped against her heartbeat and needed her for everything.

She thinks about how Kaoru no longer fits in her lap. How Hana prefers Kaede's voice to hers some nights. How their independence also means they're drifting. Not away, but forward.

She realizes that she's not a little sad. She's aching. She wants it like it's stitched into her bones. And when she tries to reason herself out of it, nothing feels honest. The usual thoughts—we're older now, it's impractical, Chishiya doesn't want this—all feel flat in her head.

Her cries are harder now. Her head hangs low, hair falling over her cheeks. She doesn't sob often, but this is the kind of grief that doesn't ask permission.

And under the sadness, there's guilt too. Guilt because she told Chishiya she could accept it. Guilt because he was right. Because he was kind about it. Because he reached for her hand and gave her space to feel and she still lied.

Not out loud. But to herself. She pretended her longing was a passing thought. A maybe. But it's not. It's real.

She reaches for toilet paper and wipes her face. The water of the bathtub still running. Baya doesn't notice until the edge of her sock starts to darken. A thin trickle has spilled over the ledge of the tub. She blinks down at it, her body too exhausted from crying to care.

And the door opens. Chishiya steps in. He freezes when he sees her.

There is no shout of surprise, obviously. No sharp inhalation. He just... stills. His hand remains on the doorknob. His eyes take in the fogged room, the soaking socks, the toilet paper balled in her lap. The long trail of mascara smudged beneath her eyes.

She can't meet his gaze. Her hands curl tighter in her lap.

"I forgot my toothbrush," he announces.

A lie. He always brushes his teeth in the kitchen sink when they travel. Says it wastes less time in the morning chaos. She doesn't call him out on it.

"I'll go," she says, barely above a whisper. She stands too quickly and sways. He moves forward instantly, but she waves him off.

"I'm fine."

"You're crying, Yuzuki."

She lets out a breath that's almost a laugh, but it dies halfway through. "It's nothing."

"Yuzuki," he repeats. His voice is soft. A little more human now, but still Chishiya.

"Don't," she says, shaking her head. Her hand touches the wall for balance. "I'm okay."

"You're not." His hand reaches out again.

"I said I'm fine." The words are already clawing their way up: she breaks. "You told me you didn't want another kid," she whispers. She doesn't mean for it to sound like an accusation, but it lands like one.

He doesn't respond. That pause rips through her like a blade. "I didn't say I didn't want another child because I don't love our life," she says tightly. "I said it because I thought it was logical. You always talk about logic. You say feelings come and go and we should act on what makes sense. And I lied," she whispers. "I lied to myself, and I lied to you, and I'm already tired of pretending it doesn't hurt." She turns. "I want another baby, Shuntarō." The words are final.

"I know it's not rational. I know we're older now. I know the risks. I know what it did to my body. I know you're tired, and maybe done, and that this life we built works." She swallows. "But when I think about it, it physically hurts not to want it. I need you to know I am certain." She meets his eyes finally. "I'm not saying you have to change your mind. I'm not trying to manipulate you. I just... need you to know."

He lowers himself onto the edge of the tub, hands resting on his knees. "You know I never imagined myself being a father. Not when I was younger. Not when I met you. But when Kaoru was born, something rewired. Not all at once. It was gradual. Like my brain had to learn how to love him. It wasn't natural for me, for some reason, but it happened. And then Hana came. And I realized that maybe it wasn't about instinct. Maybe it was about choice. Choosing to show up. Choosing to try." He looks up at her. "I was scared you'd die after Hana."

She blinks. He's never said that before.

"You lost so much blood," he says, his voice suddenly tight. "And I remember watching your lips go grey and thinking: this is the consequence of wanting too much."

Her knees go weak again, but this time she leans against the wall instead of collapsing.

"I didn't want to make it your fault. But I think... I've been holding onto that fear. Letting it be my excuse. I understand your desire for another child, but..." he sighs.

"I know it could hurt. I know it could go wrong, but if we never try, then we might live with that ache forever. I'll always wonder what we could've done."

"I need time," he decides. "I don't want to say no because I'm afraid. I don't want to say yes because I pity you. I want to mean it."

"I know. And that's good."

A beat passes. He brushes a tear from her cheek. "I'm sorry I made you cry alone."

"You didn't," she murmurs, chuckling. "Not all the way."

Another silence.

Baya opens her mouth—

"Absolutely not."

"I didn't even say it!"

"You didn't have to."

"Please? Only this once?"

"No. Baths are not for me and certainly not when I have to share it with someone else."

"You're not that tall. Neither am I. It'll fit just fine."

"Still no."

With a final sigh, she nods. "Okay, okay. If you say so. Then I'll see you in about an hour."

He huffs something between a laugh and an exhale. "See you."

●・○・●・○・●

🂱 A/N: Shorter chapter than usually but ugh every time I sit down somewhere I just feel the physical exhaustion tear me down and idk what it's from 😭

Anyway, yes or no: should they get a third kid? Please also add your reasoning!! I have lowkey already made a decision but if the majority of you votes against the decision I made, I might change it.

And if you vote yes, should they eventually come to an agreement or should it be an accident? lol

Also let me know how much of the pregnancy you would like to see if you vote 'yes'. I won't write everything in detail because I know most people aren't a big fan of pregnancy tropes but if this ends up happening, I will add some info, obviously.

Have a good day!!