●・○・●・○・●
CHAPTER TWELVE,
new love

—

༇ THE sharp scent of pine clings to the morning air as Nozomi trudges up the path of the Japanese Alps. Behind her, Aguni moves, carrying both their bags. The forest around them is misty and full.

Nozomi stops suddenly. "Mori," she says, tilting her head, "this part of the mountain smells like iron."

Aguni watches her for a long time, as if trying to decide whether she's being poetic or just strange. Maybe both. That's always been Nozomi— a bit dreamy.

They hike on. Aguni doesn't say much. They reach a clearing by midday: a rock plateau. Nozomi steps up to the edge without fear. Her braids flap in the air.

"Don't fall," Aguni says, more out of habit than concern. He knows she won't.

"I won't," she answers without looking. "I like being alive." Then she turns, hands behind her back. "I'm hungry."

They unpack their lunch. Aguni watches Nozomi devour hers with the kind of enthusiasm that reminds him of Kuina. He remembers when Kuina asked him to help raise Nozomi, and how he said no at first. How she asked again. And again. Until he gave in. Now, sitting in the wind with the girl who sees meaning in smells and names rocks, he doesn't regret it.

After lunch, they follow a hidden path toward a stream. Nozomi skips from rock to rock. She pauses and cups her hands in the cold water. "I want to be like this," she announces. "Still and clear and freezing and impossible to touch all at once."

He just hums. Later, as the sun begins to sink, they put up a small tent. Flowers bloom in chaotic colors, and Nozomi insists on weaving a crown. She makes two: one for herself, one for Aguni. He refuses, so she puts it on his shoulder instead.

"You're the bravest person I know," she says.

"That's not true."

"It is to me," she replies, voice so sure it leaves no room for argument.

Night falls. They lie under the stars, Aguni silent, Nozomi whispering to the constellations. The wind whistles.

"I think I'm going to climb every mountain in Japan," she says. "And if you don't want to join, Yuzuha will."

"Usagi just gave birth to a seven pound baby. Give it a rest."

"Ugh." Nozomi sighs loudly. "Ryohei's fault."

Aguni's lips twitch faintly. Nozomi is the only one who calls everyone by their first name.

Chishiya has no issues with calling other people by their first names, but finds no interest in it either, except for his family.

However, he doesn't approve of anyone other than Baya calling him Shuntarō— though that's better than Shush.

Aguni, Kuina, Usagi, and Ann have no unique opinions about the standards. Heiya, still several years younger than the adults, but too old to be considered amongst the kids, is also unbothered by the whole thing.

Kaede is and always will be a gentleman, the same way Kuina taught him, and calls people whatever they prefer to be called. Though most of the time, he calls them Sir or Madam (except for Chishiya).

Arisu grew up too prestigious to call anyone, apart from his family, by their first name, nor is he a big fan of others calling him by his first name.

In the end, Baya is the one who cares the most. She doesn't believe in using first names lightly. Maybe it's from growing up in a world where people came and went too quickly.

She calls Chishiya by his first name most of the time. In moments soft and private. But when she's furious, he's still 'Chishiya'— but luckily she's never furious at him. And when she's laughing quietly into his shirt or coaxing him to bed with a hand on his chest, then he's Shuntarō.

Aguni is still Aguni. She doesn't know why. He's family. He always has been. But Morizono feels forbidden. Not because she doesn't care for him. but because there's something too paternal in the way he's always looked out for her. To use his first name would be like stepping out of line. So he remains Aguni, and he never questions it.

With the others, it's easier to keep a distance. She adores Ann, respects Usagi, teases Kuina, but rarely calls them by their given names. The more casual the world becomes, the more she finds herself drawing lines.

Kaoru and Hana are the exception, of course. Their names are stitched into her blood. She calls them by their first names as easily as breathing, because they were hers the moment she met them.

Kaede is different. He's been around so long he's practically family too. She often refers to him as Kaede without issue, because he's still just a kid. Sweet, earnest, and hopelessly smitten with her daughter. She lets him have the benefit of her casualness.

●・○・●・○・●

The rest of Baya, Chishiya, Kaoru, and Hana's vacation passes like it's supposed to.

On the surface, everything is fine. More than fine. They visit towns, eat their way through plates of pasta, and laugh at how Hana cannot go thirty minutes without snapping photos of buildings and flowers. Kaoru relaxes more each day. He even joins in when a small group of kids plays cards in a plaza.

Chishiya holds Baya's hand more than usual. A hand at her lower back when she moves through crowded streets. A brush of fingers when they pass each other in doorways.

And Hana still doesn't hold back. At a street market, she points to a little cotton romper and says, "This would be so cute on a baby."

Chishiya says firmly, "We're not having a baby."

And Baya smiles like it doesn't slice her in half. At a winery where kids are allowed to stomp grapes, Hana looks around and says, "Imagine if we had a toddler here. I'd carry them on my back!"

"You'd drop them." And Chishiya would keep walking.

And Baya laughs, even as her heart clenches. The vacation is beautiful. Truly. But ever since they closed the case of having a third child, she's quieter in the mornings. Slower in the evenings. She keeps thinking of a sentence that won't leave her alone: This was your last time. And she hates that she didn't know. That she didn't even realize the last time was the last time. That she didn't savor it more. That she thought there was more time.

"OH MY GOD," Hana yelps, the same way Kaoru did when he saw the cards inside the store, except Hana is... louder. Way louder. (Except Kaoru is currently still at the cabin with Baya).

Chishiya pauses beside her, glancing inside. "What now?"

She points. "That."

"It's jewelry."

"It's a paper crane."

"It's metal."

"It represents a paper crane."

Chishiya narrows his eyes. "So does every piece of origami you've ever made. And those didn't cost thirty euros."

She learned to fold them when she was six, sitting at the kitchen table with Baya. The paper ripped. The wings were lopsided, but Hana kept going. She got better. She started folding them when she was bored, on napkins, on receipts, on anything that remotely resembles a square.

"I want to get it for Kaede."

And just like that, Chishiya's left eye twitches slightly. His mouth flattens. "Absolutely not."

Hana crosses her arms. "Why?"

"Because he doesn't need jewelry. Because he already gets enough attention. Also," he goes on, "he stole my daughter's innocence by giving her a belly button piercing, and my son's name."

"You can't steal someone's name."

"He didn't even earn it. He just showed up and claimed it. I spent months picking that name for Kaoru."

Hana sighs and turns back to the window. The pendant glints, catching the sun. She doesn't say anything else. Just stands there, quietly.

Chishiya folds— he always folds eventually. Not because he wants to. "Fine," he mutters, already regretting it. "But if he loses it—"

She grins, dashes inside, and buys it with her own money. When she comes back out, the necklace is wrapped and sealed with a tiny wax stamp. She skips ahead, braid swinging.

Chishiya trails behind Hana, hands in his pockets, glaring at the cobblestones. The sun is warm, the air is scented, and yet he walks as if preparing for war.

"He's planning something."

Hana doesn't even turn around. "You say that every time he breathes."

"That's because every time he breathes, he gets closer to stealing something else from me."

"Like what?"

"My legacy," Chishiya says. "My reputation. My peace."

"You're so dramatic."

"I wasn't dramatic before Kaede came along," he insists. They turn a corner. Chishiya keeps going. "He's sneaky. He's got this polite smile thing going on. All soft spoken and helpful. But that's how they get you. First it's 'Oh, I'll carry your groceries, sir,' and the next thing you know, he's showing up in my house, eating my food, asking my daughter how her day was."

"You mean being nice?"

"I know a manipulative tactic when I see one."

"He's not manipulating me."

"Then explain why you smile every time he texts you. What kind of sorcery is that?"

She spins on her heel and walks backward so she can face him. "You know he's not actually trying to ruin your life, right?"

Chishiya raises an eyebrow. "He named himself Kaede. After I spent months curating your brother's identity. I considered poetry, I considered biology. There was meaning behind it. And then this boy waltzes in and just grabs a syllable."

"His parents named him."

"Well, they're complicit."

"You're being paranoid."

"He showed up like a polite little fungus," Chishiya mutters. "I swear he was engineered in a lab. Too symmetrical."

"You're jealous."

"Think about it," he goes on, eyes narrowed. "First, he wins over Kaoru. Then, you. Then he offers to help your mother with dinner—acts like the golden child. The next thing I know, he's calling me Shush with that weird glint in his eye. Then I'm locked out of all our bank accounts."

"You're spiraling. Seriously, are you alright?"

She pulls the necklace out and holds it up. "He's going to love it," she says gently, then her tone becomes bolder, "And you need to shut up."

Hana lifts her chin, her twelve-year-old pride practically glowing off her. "First of all," she announces as she plants one hand on her hip, "you need to chill. I don't even like him like that. This is literally just a present."

Chishiya lifts a brow. "You shrieked over it like you'd found something holy."

"It's called having taste," she shoots back. "Some of us weren't raised in a lab without feelings. It's a crane, Dad. My thing. And he likes cranes, and I fold cranes, and sometimes people do this thing called being nice. It's not illegal."

"You've made two hundred of them for him."

"Because he doesn't throw them away!" she says. "Unlike some people who threw out the macaroni art I made in first grade."

"It had a smell."

"It had soul!"

A few tourists look their way. Hana, unfazed, flicks her braid and lowers her voice. "Kaede is my friend. Friend. Capital F. It's not a crime to want to do something nice for your friend. I don't even like-like him. I'm too busy for a boyfriend. I have projects. I'm building my brand."

"Your brand is giving expensive jewelry to boys you claim not to like?"

"Exactly," she says, as if that proves her point. "Mystery. Class. Power. I'm benevolent. I'm not falling for him. He's falling for me." She tucks the box back into her bag, dusts off her jacket, and starts walking again "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go handcraft a card and maybe spray it with lavender water so it smells poetic. Goodbye."

Chishiya still walks behind her, hands still jammed in his pockets, still wondering if Kuzuryu made the wrong decision saving him.

●・○・●・○・●

The plane touches down and it's like the spell of vacation breaks— to Baya, at least. Chishiya is probably happy to be back, Kaoru loved Italy but is also grateful for more peace, and Hana is so excited about giving Kaede the necklace that she can't even think about how school will soon start again.

During dinner, she's still beaming. "I'm going there after dessert, okay?"

Kaoru expectedly looks at Chishiya, who nods with a blank expression. Baya forces her biggest smile, but all it does is reveal the huge bags beneath her eyes. "Yeah, go ahead."

Later, they're sitting on the floor of Kaede's bedroom.  Hana talks, as always. Rapid fire. She's telling a story about how a seagull in Venice tried to steal her ice cream, flailing her hands for dramatic effect. Kaede listens with his usual patient smile.

"And then, right, it swooped down, and I screamed and dropped the cone, but guess who saved it?" She points at herself proudly. "Me. I caught the ice cream with my bare hand."

"That sounds... sticky."

"It was. But you'd have done the same. You love pistachio."

He blushes at that, even though it has nothing to do with anything romantic. He just likes that she knows his favorite flavor.

Hana leans forward, reaching into her travel backpack. "I almost forgot." She pulls out a tiny box. It's white with a red ribbon. She hands it to him casually. "I got you something," she says. "In Italy. I saw it and thought of you."

His throat tightens. "Me?"

"Well, duh. You're my best friend. And you always like the stuff I fold, right? Like the cranes?"

He nods, a little stunned. "Yeah. I love those."

"Okay, then open it!"

With trembling fingers, Kaede undoes the ribbon and lifts the lid. Nestled inside is a tiny silver pendant of a crane. It hangs on a thin, black cord. Kaede stares. For a long moment, he can't speak.

"You don't have to wear it all the time or anything," Hana says quickly, filling the silence. "But, you know. I thought you'd like it. Since cranes are kind of our thing. Right?"

Kaede swallows. His cheeks glow a soft pink. "It's beautiful." He lets out a shy laugh. "Thank you." He wants to say more. He wants to say that it's perfect. But instead, he just takes a breath and adds, "You're amazing."

Hana blinks, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. "Aw. You're gonna make me emotional." She flops backward onto the carpet. "You're such a sap, Kaede. If you weren't so sweet, I'd bully you."

He turns the crane over in his hand, heart hammering. "I don't mind if you do."

And Hana just laughs, oblivious. Kaede's ears are bright red now. He stares down at the pendant, biting his lip to keep himself from smiling too hard. It doesn't work. He's practically glowing.

She bought him a gift. A real gift. From Italy. Something that made her think of him. He has to consciously breathe slower or he's afraid he might just combust right there. He tries to say something cool, something nonchalant like, 'Thanks again, it's really nice.'

What comes out is, "I, uh—Hana... this is, um... I love it. Really. I mean... thank you."

Hana stops talking halfway through her millionth story. "Huh? Oh, you're still talking about the crane? Seriously, you don't have to make a whole thing about it. But you're welcome. I have no regrets."

Kaede coughs. "I'm not making it a whole thing."

"You are." She tosses the sock at him. "But in, like, a prince-y way."

"Prince-y?" he echoes.

"Yeah. You know. You're always being all gentle and polite and stuff. Like you were raised in a castle." Hana yawns. "Man, Italy was so cool."

Kaede lets out a breathless laugh, then carefully slips the pendant over his head, tucking it gently under his shirt as if it's a secret, as if the crane has to remain hidden in a safe spot.

Back home at the Chishiya house, Baya sits at the table behind him, chin resting on her palm, stirring a spoon in a mug she hasn't sipped from in twenty minutes while he does the dishes.

Chishiya turns around finally and walks over to the table to sit across from her. He folds his hands together. "Since we decided it," he says after a moment, "you've been somewhere else."

"I'm just tired."

"You've been tired for weeks."

She sighs through her nose. Still doesn't look up. "I'm allowed to be tired."

He waits. He always does this, waits until she talks first, as if he knows her words mean more when she offers them freely. And normally, she likes that. But tonight, it feels too exposed.

So she exhales and admits, "It's stupid." Her eyes are shiny in the low light. She bites the inside of her cheek. "I said I was okay with it."

Chishiya nods slowly. "I know."

"But I lied. You know I did," she whispers. "Not to hurt you. I just... didn't want to fight."

"I wouldn't have fought you."

"No," she admits. "But you would've been right. And I didn't want to hear that, either."

"But you really want a third one? This is not an impulsive idea?"

"I didn't know I did at first. Not until... lately. It's like it hit all at once. It wasn't there before. And now it's all I think about. I don't even know why." Her throat closes. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize for that."

"I do, though. Because we said two. We said we were done. And I agreed. And now I'm, what? Crying in bathrooms and staring at toddlers in parks like a crazy person?" She laughs without humor.

Chishiya's brow creases, just slightly. His eyes drop for a second.

"You don't want one," she states flatly. "I know that by now."

"No," he replies. "I don't."

That lands like a stone. She blinks rapidly and nods. "Right. I know. I know, I just—"

"But that doesn't mean I don't understand why you do." He holds her gaze. "It's not about the number. It's not about logistics. You're grieving the idea of someone who could've existed."

Baya bites her lip hard, trying to keep the tears in. "I don't want to replace Hana or Kaoru," she says. "It's not like that."

"I know."

"It's just... I loved that part of our life so much. Even when it was awful. I love being their mom, especially when they were young. It's different now. They're growing. They're pulling away. And that's good, but it hurts, Shuntarō." Her voice cracks. "Obviously we can't get another child every time the others start growing up, but I need... structure. I need to know 'this is it' for real. With Hana, I wasn't thinking like that. Wasn't savoring the moments that way."

Chishiya is quiet again. And for the first time, he looks unsure. "I don't know if I want to go through all that again," he admits.

"I understand," she says softly. "And I don't want to pressure you. I just... I don't know. You've made your decision already and I don't want you to change it— I mean, I do, but I don't. I'll feel guilty if you do change your mind suddenly, but I'll also feel bad if we don't do this. It's an impossible decision."

He stands and moves around the table. Not to give her a hug, but to reach for the cabinet behind her. It has a difficult opening, quite literally child-proof. He takes a pack of his favorite cookies out, spreads the entire insides on the table, forces one into Baya's mouth, and then also picks one for himself.

She barely chews. Just opens her arms, eyes wet. "I thought we got over this a long time ago."

"Over what, and how long ago exactly?"

"About a week into us meeting. When..." she bites her word back. "...you know. And you gave me cookies and I told you I wanted hugs. That you're supposed to give me hugs when I'm upset and I'm supposed to give you cookies when you're upset."

"Well, you don't give me cookies when I'm upset. You cling to me. Follow your own rules before telling others to do so."

She chuckles lightly. "Fair enough."

But finally, he kneels down beside her chair, and wraps his arms around her waist. She melts into it instantly, burying her face in his shoulder, gripping his shirt tightly.

Neither of them speaks for a while, then she draws in a breath and she shifts. Her fingers play lightly with the fabric of his sleeve.

"I love our life," she explains. "I love you. I love Hana and Kaoru more than anything. I love our routines. The chaos. But lately... I feel like I'm just floating." She gives a faint, almost embarrassed laugh. "I know that sounds dramatic. But I wake up, and I make breakfast, and I pack lunches, and I do laundry, and I wait for them to come home. I love being a mom. I love being a housewife. That's not the problem— I chose for it. But the hours between eight and three? They're so quiet now. The house feels empty. I feel empty. It's not a good reason to get another baby, and they'll also grow up eventually, but... do you understand what I mean?"

Chishiya's gaze softens as he nods. She presses on.

"I don't want a career. I don't want to go back to school or suddenly get passionate about yoga or something. I've done hard and lonely and I'm done with it. But I do want to be needed again." It slips out softer than she expected. "I know it's not healthy to base my worth on being needed," she adds quickly. "I know that. I just... I was so good at being a baby's mom. Not perfect, but I had this rhythm. I miss it so much."

She draws in a shaky breath, pressing her knuckles to her mouth for a second. "I know this probably sounds selfish," Baya murmurs. "Especially when we already have two amazing kids. But it's not about replacing them. It's about... continuing something that felt unfinished. Something I loved so deeply that the idea of it being over makes me feel like I'm holding my breath forever."

She shakes her head slowly. "I'm not asking you to change your mind tonight. I'm not even asking you to change your mind at all. I just need you to know what this is for me. It's not a whim. It's not boredom or envy or fantasy—"

Her phone rings suddenly. Baya takes it out of her pocket, talks on the phone for a while, and then puts it down. "Usagi's proposed a dinner with their family and ours to catch up. Asked if I wanted to help her cook." Baya stands. "I'll go."

Without another word, as if the conversation was finished, she walks off. Chishiya sits still, resting his head on his palm.

Behind him, there's the soft padding of footsteps: Kaoru. He stands there, unsure. Chishiya straightens, not turning around yet. When he does, he expects questions, maybe judgment. Maybe Kaoru will ask why they were having such a serious talk. Why Mom was crying. Maybe he'll take her side. Or his.

But Kaoru just looks at him for a moment, face unreadable. Then he says, calmly: "You know, Mom's not asking for another baby to have more. She's asking for something she feels like she's losing."

Chishiya stares at his son. "You're thirteen," he says.

Kaoru shrugs. "You think I don't understand, but I watch you guys." The boy sits on one of the kitchen stools, his fingers toying with the string on his hoodie. "Sometimes you act like loving her is a job. Like it takes all this effort just to keep up. But I think she needs to feel like she's not just work. Like you still want the life you're building with her, not just around her."

Chishiya opens his mouth, but no sound comes.

"And maybe you don't want a baby," Kaoru goes on. "But maybe what she wants is to feel like you'd say yes to something again. Like you're still growing, not just trying to stay still."

"Have you been reading poetry?"

"No." Kaoru shrugs. Then he walks away again. Chishiya is left in the kitchen.

He thinks about that word.

●・○・●・○・●

The next morning, he watches Baya when she isn't looking. The tired curve of her mouth. The way she's quieter than usual with the kids, like she's mourning something she doesn't know how to bury.

That night, he lies awake beside her, staring at the ceiling. And he starts thinking. Not emotionally. Just... practically. Functionally, of course.

What would it actually mean? Another child. A newborn. Sleepless nights. Crying. Bottles. Diapers. More noise. Less time.

But also tiny socks again. Small fingers wrapping around his. The way Hana used to fall asleep on his chest. The way Kaoru said 'Papa' for the first time and Baya laughed so hard she cried.

Would it be so terrible? He doesn't answer himself.

He starts doing math. Age gaps. Financial planning. How much longer before Kaoru goes to college. How old he'll be when a new child turns eighteen.

He once picks Hana up from a birthday party and watches her help a toddler walk down the stairs. She doesn't rush the child. She's gentle. He imagines her as a big sister. She'd love it, like she always says. Kaoru might pretend not to, but he'd come around. Otherwise, he wouldn't have fed Chishiya those wise words.

And one morning, without meaning to, he says it out loud. They're both in the kitchen again.

"I've been thinking about it."

She turns. Her eyes are wide, though doesn't say anything.

"About the baby. About what it would mean."

"You didn't want this," she says.

He stays silent.

"I mean... really didn't want it. I heard you, Shuntarō. You were clear. And then I said some things. I cried. I walked away. And suddenly, now you're thinking about it. I don't want you to say yes because you feel bad for me," she says.

"I didn't change my mind overnight. I didn't suddenly say yes. What I said is I'm thinking. That I'm open. If you think I'd bring a life into this world because you managed to manipulate me, think again."

"I did manage to manipulate you once."

"And the process took you several months."

"I still did it." She smiles lightly. "Want to go on a walk? This feels too controlled."

Without saying anything, he stands. They put on their shoes and go out, the remaining summer heat just warm enough for bare arms.

The street is quiet. Baya slips her hand into Chishiya's. "You know, I've been reading this article about how morning walks increase serotonin. Like, apparently there's some science behind the angle of the sun and the way your brain soaks up vitamin D. Isn't that wild?"

"I have a medical degree."

"Right. You're so lucky to have me. I remind you of the things you already know."

He doesn't smile, but the corner of his mouth twitches. "You're changing the subject."

She keeps talking, undeterred. They turn the corner, heading into the little park. The gravel crunches under their shoes. A jogger waves as he passes. Birds chirp from the branches above. She stops walking at one point, dragging him toward a low wooden bench. Tucks her legs up and leans into his side without asking. Her cheek finds his shoulder like muscle memory. His arm moves around her automatically.

"I missed this."

He tilts his head slightly, waiting.

"When we weren't trying so hard. When it didn't feel like everything had to be serious or carefully phrased or timed just right. When you'd insult me and I'd talk to you until you made that face you're making right now."

"I'm not making a face."

"You're definitely making a face."

"You're imagining it."

She grins into his shoulder.

"You were such a bastard when we met," she says lightly.

He huffs and his fingers brush along her upper arm. "I also missed this," he admits.

"See? I knew you were sentimental under that frosty—"

"I knew you had a mole on your collarbone under all those clothes," he cuts her off, way too proud.

"Seriously?" She smacks his arm. "That's the moment you miss?"

"It sure was a highlight."

"Because you saw my bare chest for the first time?"

"Because you acted like it was a crime and you still act like it's a crime."

"Not true."

"You call it 'bare chest'."

"So? Just manners."

"You get embarrassed when you wake up after intimate nights and you realize you're still naked."

"Ha! 'Intimate nights'?" Don't say anything about my words, because you're just as bad."

He clears his throat. "You get embarrassed when you wake up after sex and realize I can see your—"

Someone passes by and gives him a horrified look. Baya slams a hand to his mouth before he can continue.

"That's one of the worst things you've ever done," she whispers, also horrified.

"It will forever be a mystery to me how you're so embarrassed about intimacy."

"You will forever be a mystery to me."

"Thank you."

When they walk back hand in hand, it feels lighter.

They fall into something after that morning. Not quite new love. Not quite what they used to be. Something in between. Baya is all sunshine and storms as always, but softer now. She catches herself before she spirals. Chishiya doesn't change all at once. But he starts showing up in new ways. He helps her during dinner when he has time. When Baya goes on one of her tangents about the absurd price of organic eggs or how Hana tried to pierce a Barbie's ears, he finally gives real commentary, he makes the occasional dry remark that makes her laugh so hard she chokes.

They go on more walks. It becomes a ritual. Early mornings or evenings, depending on the day. Sometimes they don't say anything for half an hour, just walk side by side. Other times Baya doesn't shut up, and Chishiya just hums or interjects.

They don't talk about the baby often anymore. The tension has left the topic, Now, it hovers quietly between them. Baya is still sad about it, but leaves it be. One night, after they've both showered and the kids are asleep, Baya pads into their room wearing one of his shirts and carrying a bowl of strawberries. She climbs into bed and offers him one. He takes it, silently, and pops it in his mouth.

Then, as she chews on one thoughtfully, she asks, "Do you think we're getting boring?"

"We just had a two-week meltdown."

"Yeah, okay. Good point."

They lie back on the pillows, limbs tangled, soft music playing low in the background. Baya sighs. "I think I could be... fine, sort of," she says softly, "even if we don't have another kid."

He goes very still. "You don't have to say that."

"I'm not saying it to be noble." She pauses. "I'm saying it because... if we keep feeling like this then maybe we're already full. Even if I don't have that last dream."

"Too bad I'm not afraid anymore."

She just looks at him for a long time, then presses her forehead to his. "W...what? I don't even know what to say."

"That's a first."

She swats him, then kisses him.

"But I've been thinking, maybe we could consider adoption," he announces.

Baya doesn't answer right away. Of course she knew this suggestion would come. It's logical—typical Chishiya. He probably has run through every path. Because he cares. Because he dreams of worst-case scenarios.

"It's safer. It gives a child a life. It gives us a child without putting you at risk. And I know you, of all people, understand what it's like to grow up without a home."

She understands all that. Still, the moment the word adoption leaves his mouth, her stomach knots. "Eh," is all she can manage.

Chishiya sits straight up. "At least, I thought you'd like the idea of it," he adds.

"You're not wrong for that. I should be the first one to say yes to adoption, right? I should be the one who wants this." She sighs again. "But I don't. I hate that, but it's the truth." Her voice breaks slightly on the last word. She looks down, ashamed. "I don't know how to explain it. It's not that I think adopted kids are worth less. Hell no. If anything, I'd give them all the love in the world. But I think maybe I'm still... stuck?" She presses a hand to her chest. "And if I adopt now... if we go into that building, look into a room of faces—I'll remember all of it in every one of them. And I'll know one of those kids felt like me and many others— that feeling of the parents walking past you because you were 'too much' or 'too little'."

The silence stretches between them like a thread that could snap if touched too harshly.

"So I... don't know if I want that," she admits.

"It's not wrong to feel that way," he assures.

Baya looks at him. Her eyes glisten, but she doesn't cry. "It's not just that, though," she says. "When I carried Kaoru, and then Hana, I felt them before anyone else did. Before the world knew them, I knew them. Their kicks. Their hiccups. Their heartbeats. Every symptom, every stretch mark, every miserable morning. It belonged to me. I don't want to give that part up."

Chishiya breathes in. "Even with the risks?"

"Yes," she says firmly. "Even with the risks." She wipes at her cheek, even though no tear has fallen. "I won't pretend I'm okay with another route just to make it easier."

"You don't have to explain it any better than that. I understand. And I can't decide it for you. It's your body. I might not like the idea, but I understand. And I'd rather live with fear than resentment. Especially from you."

Baya lets out a shaky breath. "Really?"

"Really."

"But... so... wait, really? You really want a third one?"

"I've realized how happy it would make you, and I've calculated. The risks aren't extreme, you're determined, Hana is determined, and it would bring a new side to it all. Hana needs to learn to have more responsibility anyways. Kaoru's experiences would evolve. And I'm okay with it."

"You need to be excited, not just okay. You need to be a father, not a man with three children. So do you actually want it?"

"I can see it now. That's the thing. I can see it, because you've shown me how to, even though I'm not the kind of person who pictures things like that."

She shifts slightly, heart clenching. "Yes?"

"Yes. I want it," he says. "I want it all, but only with you there all the time."

She stares at him, stunned. Then a sound escapes her—half-sob, half-laugh. Her hand shoots to cover her mouth. "You're so annoying when you talk like that," she chokes out. "You make it impossible not to cry."

●・○・●・○・●

"People are gonna poke you now," Kuina tells Kaede one day. "Because you'll look like you could snap them in half. Because they're afraid. Or jealous. Or both. You're strong already, and your physiques will become even better. Don't give them what they're looking for."

He learns how to wait. How to let someone mouth off and keep his hands loose at his sides. How to win without swinging. How to scare someone just by not reacting.

"Control," she says again and again. "That's the most dangerous thing you can have."

She also teaches him how to apologize. How to look someone in the eye when he's wrong and mean it. How to walk into a room and take responsibility without flinching. Even if his pride is screaming.

He doesn't always get it right. Sometimes his voice still raises too fast. Sometimes his hands still ball into fists without him thinking. But he thinks about the damage he could do and chooses not to.

It changes how he moves through the world. He starts walking differently. More relaxed. People start noticing. Not just classmates. Adults. Strangers. Even Chishiya, when their paths cross. There's a moment where Kaede looks him in the eye, and Chishiya blinks like something unfamiliar just passed between them.

"You're not done," Kuina tells him one night. "You'll never be done. You'll keep learning this every day of your life."

So she keeps teaching him. Not just punches and blocks and holds—Kaede's already mastered those by now. He's sharp, fast, and precise. He'd be able to win fights from kids his age who might be bigger and taller, if he wanted to. He'd win with ease. Kuina is a good trainer. Sometimes, Aguni joins in. That's when it gets heavy, yet it has the best effect.

A few weeks after summer vacation, he meets a boy at the gym, named Kiyoshi Hattori. He's four months older than Kaede. Kiyoshi is experiencing in boxing. It's a whole different technique than the one Kuina has taught Kaede.

So Kaede, inspired by his new friend, spends several days asking his parents to get him boxing classes. Eventually, they go with it. That's how he learns yet another kind of fighting. 

His plans for the next years are to take those classes. He also wants to specialize in taekwondo, karate, and maybe even fencing— anything that allows him to become the strongest version of himself. Not because he wants to overpower. He just... likes it. That's all. He likes to train, and to set goals, and to realize that maybe one day, he'll be able to beat Kuina in a fight.

"Kaede, Kaede, Kaede, Kaede, Kaede!" Hana's voice at his bedroom door makes him freeze. She sounds more excited than ever. "Kaede, open up! You won't believe this!"

He looks at Kiyoshi, not to apologize. Kuina has taught him to never apologize over such things. "That's Hana. She—"

"I know," Kiyoshi announces (her name has escaped Kaede's mouth quite... a lot of times).

Kaede opens the door, met with a beaming Hana. She's practically jumping. "Guess what happened!"

"You..." he's desperate to find the right words. "...you found a better pattern to fold cranes with?"

Hana shakes her head. "Aah, I can't wait anymore! I'm getting a baby sibling!" She practically combusts as she throws her arms around Kaede. "My parents just told me! Apparently, Mom is a few weeks along already! I can't believe they didn't tell me earlier. Ohmygosh, Kaede. Do you think it'll be a girl?"

He blinks, stunned, and mostly stressing about her arms embracing him. "Oh my God."

"I know right!" She peeps. "Oh, she'll be best friends with Miyu! Or he! I don't know, I don't mind. Miyu is so cute. I bet my baby sibling will be even—"

She cuts herself off when she finally sees Kiyoshi—who's standing up by now, looking at her.

"...cuter," Hana finishes, blinking. "Hi."

"Oh, eh, this is Kiyoshi. Kiyoshi, this is Hana. Kiyoshi is my friend, Hana. And Hana is—"

"—your best friend." Hana walks forward, shaking Kiyoshi's hand. "Hi," she says again.

"Hey," he responds. "Congratulations."

"For what?"

"Your baby sibling."

"Oh, yes." Hana nods. "Hi."

"...hi?"

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Hi."

Hana swallows. "I like your jacket."

Kiyoshi looks down. It's a leather jacket with white letters on the back— a font he personally thinks looks cool. Other than that, he's wearing a white T-shirt and wide-ish jeans. His hair is long, but not long like Kaede's (basically the same haircut as Arisu)— it's... styled. Some sort of straight mullet, but also... not a mullet.

"Thank you," Kiyoshi says. "I like your outfit as well."

Hana is wearing the widest pair of blue jeans she owns, and on top of that, a pastel green and yellow plaid top that's too long to be a shirt but too short to be a dress. The sleeves are ruffled.

"Thank you," she answers, high-pitched. "My mom chose it for me— uh, I mean, she chose the clothes. When she bought them. No... um, we went shopping together and she liked these so I gave them a try and this morning, I chose to wear them. But she doesn't choose all my outfits, of course—"

"She has good taste," Kiyoshi compliments. "And I wish her luck with her pregnancy."

"Thank you," Hana peeps again. "I'll tell her that."

Kaede watches this painfully slow collision of two confident people reduced to stammering ones with a mix of shock and mild horror. "I'm going to get water," he says flatly, and exits his own bedroom.

Hana lingers in the doorway, suddenly unsure what to do with herself. She's still staring at his jacket.

"Do you... want to try it on?" he asks.

Hana's eyes go wide. "Really?"

"Sure." He shrugs it off and hands it to her.

It's heavier than she expected. She slips it on and it swallows her completely. The sleeves are way too long, the shoulders hang off her frame, but she beams anyway.

"How do I look?" she asks.

"Dangerous? I don't know."

She laughs a little too loudly and hands him the jacket. "My brother says I'm about as dangerous as a pigeon."

"I like pigeons."

Hana tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, her fingers shaking just enough to notice. "So... um, Kiyoshi. Do you train too?"

Kiyoshi nods, quick. "Boxing."

"Cool," she says, way too fast. Then repeats it more breathily: "That's really cool."

"Do you like boxing?" he asks, tilting his head slightly. His voice is calm but his foot taps once against the carpet.

"I don't know much about it," Hana admits, "but I like watching Kaede train sometimes. Even if it's scary. He's kind of scary sometimes. He's been my neighbor since forever." A pause. "So... are you coming over more? To train?"

Kiyoshi shrugs. "Maybe. If Kaede keeps inviting me."

"Okay." Hana shifts her weight from foot to foot. "And, um... do you have Line?"

Kiyoshi blinks. Then nods. "Yeah. Of course."

"Cool. Could I... um, I mean, do you mind if—?" She fishes her phone out from her back pocket, unlocking it. "I mean, only if you want to. No pressure. Obviously."

Kiyoshi pulls out his phone as well. "Yeah. Sure."

They stand next to each other, close enough for their shoulders to brush occasionally, as they scan each other's QR codes to Line— a popular messaging app in Japan. Hana's hands are definitely shaking now. Kiyoshi's aren't much better.

"There," Hana says after a beat. "Sent you a sticker. It's a fox wearing a party hat."

Kiyoshi smiles down at the screen. "That's cute."

"I like foxes," Hana says, then instantly regrets the uselessness of the statement.

"I do too," Kiyoshi says. "They're clever."

"Oh," Hana says, blinking. "Yeah. That's a good way of putting it. Eh, do you want to come over again sometime? I mean... not just for training. I make really good strawberry smoothies. Or I can try to. Or we can get bubble tea or something. Or you can just sit around and talk about boxing. If you like talking about boxing. Do you like smoothies?"

Kiyoshi takes a beat too long to answer. "Yeah. I do."

"To smoothies? Or talking?"

"To both."

"Oh," Hana says, voice suddenly small again. "Okay. Cool."

There's a pause. Kiyoshi glances at Kaede, who has returned. Hana waves too eagerly. "I need to go before my dad kills me. Bye!"

"Bye, Hana."

The door clicks shut a few seconds later.

And Hana skips the entire way home. Her thoughts are spinning—baby sibling, Kaede's new friend, Kiyoshi's jacket, Kiyoshi's face, Kiyoshi's voice— by the time she unlocks the front door and steps inside, she's still grinning.

"Hey, I'm home!" she calls.

Chishiya's voice drifts from the kitchen. "Shoes off. Wash your hands."

"Yes, yes," she says dreamily, already halfway out of her sneakers. She hums as she washes her hands, the tune completely made up but somehow stuck in her head. After drying them, she runs up the stairs two at a time and flops onto her bed.

Kiyoshi: So how long have you been best friends with Kaede?

Hana: Basically since he was born, he's one month older

Kiyoshi: Wanna hang out sometime?

Her heart flips. Actually flips. She makes a noise.

Hana: Yes! When?

They go back and forth making suggestions. This weekend? Next week? The park? Ice cream? Kiyoshi mentions a cool secondhand clothing store he knows, and Hana immediately says yes.

And Chishiya doesn't knock. He never knocks. It's just that quiet appearance, like he teleports. Hana glances up and freezes, phone still glowing in her hands, mid-smile, wide-eyed.

He stands there, arms folded, eyes narrowing slightly. "What," he says, "are you smiling at?"

"Nothing," she blurts.

He raises an eyebrow.

"Okay," she corrects quickly, "not nothing. But also not something bad."

Chishiya walks in with deliberate slowness, eyes flicking to her phone, then back to her face. "You've been giggling."

Hana covers the screen with her hand. "It's just a conversation."

"With who?"

"Someone."

"Someone who?"

"Kaede's new friend. His name is Kiyoshi."

Chishiya stares.

"He's just a friend!" Hana says quickly. "Okay, not just a friend. I mean, we just met. But we're talking. Not talking-talking. Just... texting. Friendly texting. I'm not in love or anything. Probably."

"You're twelve," he says flatly.

"I know," Hana groans. "That's why I said probably! I'm aware! My hormones aren't even finished installing!"

"No dating."

"I'm not dating! We're not even hanging out yet!"

"No hanging out either."

Hana flops back on her bed dramatically. "You're literally married. You're the worst hypocrite."

"That's different."

"How?!"

"I'm not twelve."

She throws a pillow at him.

He catches it without blinking, places it neatly on her desk, and walks out without another word. Hana stares at the ceiling, lets out a long groan, then grabs her phone again and texts:

Hana: Soooo my dad is deeply unamused about us

Kiyoshi: Should I be honored or terrified

Hana: Both

Kiyoshi: I'll bring offerings of peace

Hana: He likes cookies

Kiyoshi: Noted

She grins again.