●・○・●・○・●
CHAPTER FOURTEEN,
documents

—

༇ BY afternoon, the house is ready for Kaoru's small, first birthday party. He's always been allowed to throw them, but with his SPD, he's never been confident. Now that he knows his friends very well, he's ready.

Renji and Shoma show up first, wrestling over a game. Shoma's voice is booming as usual, but he drops it to a reasonable level when he sees Kaoru flinch slightly at the front door. "Happy birthday," he says, grinning, and hands over a whole stack of mangas. "From Renji and I."

Elikai comes next, wearing headphones around her neck and a tote bag with hand-sewn patches. She immediately wishes Kaoru a happy birthday, gifts him a handmade bracelet, and knitted hat, starts poking around the snack table, then compliments the playlist.

Nanaka is last, ten minutes late, and yells "Happy fourteen!" the moment she walks in. Kaoru flinches. She immediately puts a hand on his shoulder. "Sorry, sorry! Too loud?"

"A little."

"I'll whisper for the next five minutes in apology."

She doesn't. But she does soften her volume, and Kaoru appreciates it.

They start with video games—team matches, chaotic and loud, but not too loud. Kaoru has his headset around his neck just in case, but he doesn't need it yet. Renji swears dramatically when he loses. Shoma throws popcorn at him. Elikai offers sarcastic commentary from a beanbag. Nanaka does victory dances that Kaoru records quietly and sends to the group chat.

Later, they're outside. The fire crackles steadily in the pit, glowing orange. Smoke curls upward into the air, and above them, the stars hide behind pale clouds. The garden lights sway gently, hung an old tree. Five pairs of shoes circle the fire.

Kaoru pokes at a marshmallow, watching it bubble and blacken. He doesn't eat them. Too sticky and sweet, but the rhythm of holding the stick steady and rotating it slowly feels calming.

Shoma leans back against a beanbag, arms behind his head, and asks, "Okay, be honest. Who here has had their first kiss?"

Renji immediately throws a peanut at him. "You go first, casanova."

Shoma grins. "Maybe I already had mine."

"No, you didn't," Elikai says. "Unless it was with your shower wall."

The group laughs. Shoma groans.

"Okay, okay," Nanaka says, sitting up straighter and tossing her long scarf over one shoulder like a movie star. "Let's go in a circle."

Shoma shrugs. "No kiss. Yet."

Renji lifts a hand. "Same."

Kaoru shrugs once. "No. Never."

Elikai tilts her head, the firelight reflecting in her eyes. "Me neither."

Nanaka grins and leans forward. "I have, actually."

All eyes snap to her. Renji chokes on his soda.

"What?!" Elikai says, nearly shouting. "With who?!"

Nanaka laughs brightly. "I'm not saying."

Kaoru stares at her, puzzled. "When?"

"Last summer. You didn't know him. Camp thing."

Shoma points at her. "You kissed someone and didn't tell us?!"

"It was one kiss," she insists, hands up. "And it was like... fine. Kind of wet."

Elikai grimaces. "Ew."

Nanaka stretches her legs, pulling the blanket up around her shoulders. "We should make a pact," she says suddenly.

"Like what?" Shoma asks.

"If any of us fall in love with someone horrible, we have to tell each other. We're not growing up and forgetting each other and dating weirdos."

They all swear. Then the conversation shifts again: Nanaka says something stupid, Renji and Shoma start wrestling, Elikai groans and gets up to get more cocoa.

The sound of the others fades behind the sliding door as she steps in.  Baya stands near the stove, hand resting on the kettle, the other supporting her lower back. She's changed into a looser top, hair braided back, her belly clearly visible now at five months. Despite the cozy setting, Elikai notices something in her, but can't put her finger on it.

"Refuel?" Baya asks with a soft smile.

"Please," Elikai says, peeling off her gloves and setting them beside the sink. She moves over to the counter but pauses, tipping her head. "Do you know yet? If it's a boy or girl?"

Baya shakes her head. "We'll see when I give birth."

Elikai chuckles and starts reaching for mugs. "And how's it going?"

Baya exhales and rubs her belly absently. "Fine. Mostly. Normal pregnancy stuff."

"And not normal stuff?"

There's a flicker of silence. "Some of it's just more than I expected this time," she says finally. "It's harder to breathe. My ribs hurt. Shuntarō practically followed me around with a stethoscope for two days because I fainted once."

Elikai stills. "He should be down here right now, too. You're swaying."

"I'm not swaying," Baya argues, then falters a bit and grips the counter tighter. "Okay, maybe a little. But he's in his office. Well let him be."

Elikai catches her gently by the elbow. "Sit."

"I'm fine—" Baya sighs and lets herself be guided to a stool by the island. She lowers herself slowly.

Elikai opens the fridge, grabs a bottle of juice, pours a glass, and places it in front of her. "Here."

Baya does as instructed. Her hands are steadier now, but her eyelids flutter just a little too long each time she blinks.

"I'm getting your husband," Elikai says.

"No," Baya replies instantly. "He's working. And he'll worry too much. It's just a blood sugar dip."

They fall quiet again. Baya reaches out slowly and grips Elikai's hand. Her touch is warm, no longer trembling.

"Thank you for staying," Baya says.

"I'll stay until the nausea fades," Elikai replies, steady as stone.

Eventually, the cocoa goes cold. When Baya finally rises to her feet, Elikai stands beside her. Together, they carry the tray of mugs outside.

●・○・●・○・●

Begin March, Kaede says he's meeting some friends to play at the arcade, and Usagi doesn't question it, too busy keeping Miyu from crying. She kisses his forehead, reminds him to keep his jacket zipped, and says not to stay out too late.

He takes the train to an older part of the city, where the alleys are thinner The address scribbled in his pocket is one Kuina once mentioned, carelessly, while bragging about her old matches. A basement gym. Doesn't exist on maps. You have to knock five times and say you're not a cop.

Kaede does exactly that. Five sharp knocks. A slot in the rusted metal door slides open. "Who the hell are you?"

"Not a cop."

A beat of silence before the door creaks open. The man who lets him in is missing a front tooth. His eyes flick down to Kaede's frame. "You're a kid. To watch or fight?"

"Watch," Kaede says.

The man grunts and jerks his head. "Don't get in the way."

The room smells like sweat, dust, weed, and beer. There's a makeshift ring set up in the center—ropes held together with duct tape, a floor slick with sweat and blood. The crowd is loud. Mostly men, but a few women. All older and louder.

Kaede slips into a spot along the edge just when the first fight starts.

It's brutal. Not like training with Aguni or sparring with Kuina. These are grown men trying to tear each other apart with their fists. Blood spatters across the mat within minutes.

Kaede watches every detail. He studies footwork. Sees the weakness in a man's left leg. The twitch in the jaw before a punch. He watches the way one man fights angry and loses, and the way the other fights calm, and wins.

After two more rounds, there's a break. Smoke fills the air. The ring girl walks around, taking money. Kaede waits, then steps up to the man guarding the fighters' room. He's holding a clipboard.

"I want to fight, sir," Kaede says, bowing.

The man laughs through his nose. "You want a soda while you're at it, kid?"

"I'm serious, sir."

"You'll get your teeth kicked in."

"I've been training, sir."

"Sure you have. In your sleep?"

Kaede doesn't speak.

"How old are you?"

"Almost thirteen, s—"

The man cuts him off by grabbing his hair and pulling him out of his bow-position. "Don't call me sir and don't bow. And don't expect me to let a twelve-year-old fight."

"Please?"

The man stares at him for a long moment, chewing on his lip. Then he sighs and calls over a scrawny-looking teenager. "Riku. You feel like punching a baby giraffe?"

Riku sizes Kaede up with a grin. "I don't hit girls."

Kaede doesn't react. The man waves a hand. "Three minutes. No betting. If the kid cries, he's out."

The crowd perks up. Word spreads fast. A child is stepping into the ring. Someone shouts, "Get your cameras!" Another yells, "This is illegal, right?"

Kaede takes off his hoodie and climbs in. The floor is sticky. The ropes creak. Everything smells wrong, but Kaede feels clear.

Riku bounces on his toes. "Don't say I didn't go easy on you."

The bell clangs.

Riku lunges.

Kaede sidesteps. He doesn't punch yet. He dodges and reads. He sees how Riku overcommits on every swing. He sees how his left arm dips. He sees how he doesn't guard his ribs after throwing.

On the fifth dodge, Kaede lands one clean hit right under the jaw.

The crowd gasps.

Riku stumbles, then growls. He charges harder.

Kaede hits again. Aguni always says: Let them tire themselves out. Stay calm. Breathe. And Kuina always says: Make it look easy. That pisses people off more.

By the end of the second minute, Riku is bleeding from the nose. Kaede's lip is split, and his shoulder is sore, but he's still standing.

The bell rings. The crowd is cheering now. Laughing. Some in disbelief. Others just entertained. At least no one's calling him a baby giraffe anymore.

He steps out of the ring with a shaky breath. The man with the clipboard meets him at the edge. "You want to come back next week?"

"Maybe." Quickly, Kaede grabs his hoodie and leaves the way he came.

The train ride back feels longer than before. Kaede keeps his hoodie hood up, head pressed to the window, the ache in his lip pulsing. His shoulder hurts worse now that the adrenaline is gone. He watches the buildings slide by like ghosts.

When he gets home, the lights in the living room are on. He toes off his shoes, his heart ticking strangely in his chest, and walks into the room.

Kaoru is there. Hana is too.

They're curled up on the couch together, Hana's head on Kaoru's shoulder, a tissue clutched in one hand. Her eyes are red. Kaoru isn't crying, but his jaw is locked, and he's sitting too straight.

Kaede stops in the doorway. "What's wrong?"

Kaoru lifts his eyes to him, unable to speak.

"Kaoru?" Kaede peeps, high-pitched.

Usagi appears in the hallway, walking toward them with a blanket folded over one arm. Her face is tight and pale. When she notices Kaede, she sets the blanket down. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Mom? What's going on?"

She sighs. "Baya went into labor. Her blood pressure was unstable, and she collapsed again around dinnertime."

"But... but she's only seven months."

Usagi nods once. "Yes."

Arisu steps out of the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up. His phone is in one hand, his other gripping the back of his neck. "Chishiya hasn't updated us in over an hour," Arisu says.

Kaede sinks down into the armchair across from his Kaoru and Hana. Hana hiccups softly and curls further into Kaoru's side. He wraps an arm around her.

"She kept saying something didn't feel right," Kaoru says suddenly. "For weeks. She said she felt dizzy all the time. Her ribs hurt. I—"

"It's not your fault," Usagi interrupts firmly, sitting beside him. "You're a kid, sweetheart. It's not your job to—"

"She protected me when I was a baby," Kaoru says. "And I—"

"She's not gone," Arisu cuts in. "You don't know anything yet. For all we know, everything is going well and Chishiya isn't updating us because they're having their first moments with the baby."

Everyone goes quiet, all aware that it's unlikely to be the truth, even though the thought brings comfort.

Kaede takes the blanket his mother put down and drapes it over Hana and Kaoru. "Do you want a drink?"

They shake their heads. Helplessly, Kaede sits down next to Hana, making sure there's at least a feet of space between them.

"Food, maybe?"

They shake their heads again.

Arisu eventually puts his phone in his pocket. "Alright. Maybe—" he stops. "Kaede, what's on your lip?"

Kaede instinctively touches the wound. "I tripped over that higher pavement near the arcade. Don't worry, it's okay."

A small sigh of relief leaves Arisu. "Alright. Who wants to sleep where? I can imagine Hana and Kaoru want to sleep next to each other. Kaede can take the couch. Or I can. Whatever you guys want."

"I don't think I'm able to sleep," Hana says hesitantly, sniffing. "Can I stay up for a little while?"

"Of course. I'll make tea," Usagi offers. "If Miyu wakes up, feel free to take her, okay?"

Hana nods.

Meanwhile, Kaede takes his phone.

Shush

Hi Shush,
Could you please give us an update?
Thank you,
Kaede

"You text like an old man," Hana tries to joke.

Kaede smiles lightly. "Kuina taught me." He looks sideways at Hana. "Eh, do you want to play a game?"

She shakes her head. "No, thank you."

"Should I put the TV on?"

She shrugs.

"Ehh..." it feels like all of Kuina's lessons have left him. "Do I need to call Kiyoshi?"

She shakes her head again, then leans it into the curve of Kaede's shoulder. "I just want them to return— I don't care if it's a girl or boy! I don't even care about the baby anymore. I just want my mom." Her bottom lip shakes heavily. "I just want my mom," she repeats.

Kaede, swallowing heavily, takes her hand and squeezes it. "She'll come back."

He holds Hana's hand a second longer than he probably should. His palms are scraped and raw, and her fingers are warm in his. When she doesn't pull away, his heart ticks weird again. It's like something fluttering and sharp in his chest.

"I bet your mom is being annoying at the nurses," he says finally. "Asking too many questions. Refusing to let anyone else hold the baby."

Hana doesn't laugh, exactly, but there's a hiccup that almost sounds like one. "Yeah. That sounds like her."

"She'll probably make the doctor cry." Kaede glances over at her. Her eyes are half-shut, lashes wet. Her hair smells like that strawberry conditioner she always uses. His hoodie sleeve brushes her arm. He wants to lean in so badly it's like his whole body forgets how to sit still. Instead, he squeezes her hand again.

"You know, when I was little, I thought Shush was a vampire," Kaede announces.

That gets a real, tiny laugh.

"He never came out in the sun. He didn't eat real food. He was always glaring at everyone like he wanted to drink their blood."

Hana wipes at her eyes with the edge of her sleeve. "He still kind of does that."

Kaede nods. "Right? I still think it's possible. Would explain a lot."

They sit in silence for a while. Usagi walks by with a tray of mugs—Kaoru gets one, and Hana too. Kaede politely declines, not trusting his stomach.

Hana sips hers slowly. When she yawns, it's muffled by the cup.

"You should sleep."

"I said I wasn't tired."

"You yawned."

"Shut up."

He grins to himself, then more seriously adds, "I can stay up with you. All night, if you want."

She looks at him then. "I'd like that."

"I can get us paper. We can fold cranes if you'd like." He looks over at Kaoru. "Wanna join?"

Kaoru shakes his head and looks at Usagi. "Can I go home?"

"I'm sorry, honey, but your father specifically told us to keep you guys here until they return."

"Please?" He sits up straighter. "I'm wearing the wrong sweater and I want my cards."

"I'll walk with you," Arisu suggests. "Is that alright?"

Kaoru immediately stands. "Yes. Thank you."

The sound of the door closing is a little too loud to Miyu's liking; her cries start to echo from upstairs. Usagi rushes to get her, then plops down on the couch with the child in her arms a few minutes later.

"Ha-na—!" Miyu's arms reach out to the girl, an excited laugh escaping. Hana forces a smile that soon grows real when Miyu ends up cradled on her lap.

She babbles with delight, her little fists grabbing at Hana's shirt. Her cheeks are flushed and soft, her dark eyes wide with affection. The warmth of her small body grounds Hana in a way nothing else has all evening.

"Hey," Hana whispers, moving Miyu close and pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. Her voice shakes a little, but she keeps it together. "Did we wake you up?"

Miyu responds by squealing and patting Hana's cheek, then trying to stuff the edge of her shirt into her mouth.

Kaede watches quietly. There's something weirdly calming about Miyu's presence, like she's too young to understand that something is wrong, and her innocence is contagious. He leans forward a little, elbows on knees, and smiles softly. "I think she missed you."

Hana leans her cheek on top of Miyu's head. "Do you think it hurts? Being born?"

Kaede hesitates. "I mean... I guess it would feel weird. But it hurts more for the mom. That's what Kuina said, anyway. She said you have to be like, superhero strong to give birth."

Hana's lip trembles again. "Then Mom's probably fighting really hard." She looks over at Usagi. "What exactly could go wrong?" Hana asks. "With the baby. Since it's early."

Kaede shifts beside her, suddenly sitting straighter. Even Miyu seems to quiet a little, as if sensing the shift in atmosphere. Usagi puts her mug down carefully. "Premature babies... well, a lot depends on how early they are. Your mom was at twenty-nine weeks. It's early, but the baby's lungs might be developed enough to breathe with a little help."

"Will it have to stay at the hospital?" Kaede asks.

"Probably," Usagi says. "Babies born early usually go to something called the NICU. It's where they keep them warm and safe, and help them eat and breathe until they're strong enough to do it alone."

"What if it's not okay?"

"A lot of them get through it. Especially if they were as far along as your mom was."

"But what about her? My mom."

Usagi reaches out and places a hand on Hana's knee. "She's strong. She's being looked after. But... there are risks for her, too. If the baby came too fast, or if something tore, she could lose a lot of blood. There's also the chance of infection, or problems with her blood pressure. But you have to remember something: your mom went to the hospital. She's surrounded by trained people. Your father is there, too, and he'd never let anything happen without fighting like hell to stop it. Okay?"

"But they've been gone so long."

"I know. Sometimes that means they're just being careful. With early births, they move slow and steady. There's a lot to check. It could still be okay."

"Will she be in a lot of pain?" Hana peeps, her voice fragile.

Usagi hesitates, then nods. "Most likely, yes. But that's normal for birth. And if it gets too bad, they'll help her."

Kaede looks down at his scraped hands. "Can the baby still die?"

It feels like all the air in the room freezes. Even Miyu goes still. Usagi's expression doesn't change. She just nods once. "Yes. But I promise, as rude as it sounds, Baya is the number one priority."

Silence stretches long. Then Hana says, "I think she's okay. I want to believe she's okay."

"I'm certain you're right," Kaede adds in.

●・○・●・○・●

The next morning, Kaede wakes up on the couch because of his father. Hana and Kaoru should still be asleep in his bed— if they were even able to sleep.

"Dad?" Kaede groans.

Arisu is pacing through the living room, his phone to his ear. "He's not picking up. Or responding to any of our texts, while he literally read mine. He could at least send an emoji."

"Oh." The boy sits up, checking his own phone: nothing. "What can that mean?"

"Either means everything is horribly wrong or amazingly good." Arisu sits down. Rubs his forehead. "Maybe we can call the hospital ourselves. Not to bother them, but I don't think Hana and Kaoru can last another day not knowing what's going on."

Arisu calls. The hospital line rings longer than expected, and Kaede watches him with growing unease, arms wrapped tightly around a pillow. "Hello, yes, uh, good morning," Arisu says, his voice low and polite. "I'm calling about a patient. She was admitted last night. Early labor. Legal name is Yuzuki Chishiya, but prefers to go by Baya."

There's a pause. Arisu's lips twitch in irritation. "Yes, I understand you can't give details. I'm not family—well, I mean, we're close, but I'm not—listen, can you at least confirm if she's still admitted? Or if she was discharged?"

Another pause. His brow furrows deeper. "...No, I don't want to speak to billing. I want to know if she's still— never mind. Thank you."

"They didn't tell you anything?" Kaede asks.

"They said they're not authorized. And that they don't see anything new in her chart on their system. That probably means it hasn't been updated yet, or it's under review, or they're not logged into the right damn department." Arisu pinches the bridge of his nose. "I asked if they could just confirm if she was still there, and they said it's policy not to say."

Kaede frowns. "But that's so stupid. Why can't they just say yes or no?"

"Because they're protecting patient privacy." He sighs. "Which is fair, but doesn't help us right now."

Kaede flops back down on the couch. "So we're still stuck."

"Yeah." Arisu stares at the phone in his hand like it offended him. "I'm not waking the others yet."

A muffled creak interrupts the stillness. Hana appears in the hallway entrance, her hair tangled and her hoodie drooping off one shoulder. Her face is puffy with sleep and worry. "You tried calling the hospital?" she asks, voice raspy.

Kaede sits up straight. "They didn't say anything."

"They wouldn't confirm if she's even still there," Arisu adds gently. "It's not that something's wrong, they just won't tell anyone who's not family."

"I am family," Hana mutters bitterly. "Why can't I just call?"

"You could try," Arisu says softly. "But unless your name is listed on her approved contact form, they'll say the same thing."

She folds her arms, eyes going glassy again. "Then what do we do?"

"We wait. And we trust your dad to call the second she can."

Kaede, feeling helpless, murmurs, "Maybe they're both sleeping. That would be good, right? If they're sleeping?"

"Or busy taking care of the baby," Arisu adds, forcing a hopeful tone. "That happens, too. The NICU team is probably swarming around them. It could be hours before your dad gets a chance to check his phone."

Hana nods, but the tears won't stop filling her eyes. Kaede stands, crosses the room, and touches her wrist lightly.

"I'll make us breakfast," he offers. "Do you want eggs or something?"

"Can you make toast?"

"Yeah," Kaede says. "I can do that."

"I'll wake Kaoru," she adds after a second. "I don't want him to find out anything late if something does happen."

Kaede watches her walk slowly toward the bedroom, then glances at Arisu. "You okay?" the boy asks.

Arisu rubs his face. "I'm just scared. We all are."

Kaede hesitates. "Do you think he'll text soon?"

"I think he has to—"

A phone rings.

Arisu grabs it so fast that it falls to the floor before he can pick up, once he does, his eyes are wide. "Chishiya? Yes? What is it? Is she okay?"

Kaede watches with wide eyes as Arisu listens to Chishiya. His expression changes from shock to confusion.

"Ehh... sure? Yeah, okay— what for?"

More talking on the other side of the phone.

Arisu's frown deepens, then he nods. "I can do that. But at least tell me—" he cuts himself off.

Kaede jumps. "What is it? What did he say? Is she okay?"

His father harshly puts his phone back in his pocket. "I swear, if Chishiya could just function like a normal human being for once—"

"Dad? What did he say?"

"He told me to take pictures of some documents at their house, and hung up before even telling me what's going on."

"What kind of documents?"

"Consent forms, insurance papers— things like that," Arisu explains. "Stay here. I'll get them."

Arisu moves quickly to the house next door, into—shockingly—Chishiya's office.

Something so serious must be going on that Chishiya told Arisu where he hides the extra key, told him to go into his office, and take pictures of the documents— which is what Arisu does. 

When he unclips the first page, he pauses. His eyebrows lift.

"In the event of both biological parents being unable to care for the minors, custody is to be transferred to Morizono Aguni, with financial support guaranteed from the trust."

Arisu turns to the next section. A copy of Chishiya's bank records, then a living trust document, listing large sums of money set aside for the children. It outlines things Arisu doesn't even understand.

He snaps pictures of the documents Chishiya needs and sends them to him, honestly a little afraid to do something wrong— Chishiya's voice sounded different on the other side of the phone. It carried more emotion than ever. Not sadness, not happiness. It was anger. He sounded furious.  

Arisu presses a hand to his forehead. The last time he remembers Chishiya thinking Baya died, he was sad, not angry. He's not the type of person to become angry first. Though with the baby, that's a different story— if he didn't feel bonded enough to be sad, but felt attached enough to be angry at the death... maybe that's it.

But no. Chishiya would've sounded different. That's what Arisu believes, at least.