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Miri Unasaka was many things.
Four years old, of course. She’d tell that to anyone who would listen.
Small. The perfect size to be hoisted onto Kazuki’s shoulders when they were out, or to curl up in Rei’s lap while he read his manga.
Cute. At some point, she’d realized that was a good tool to get out of some sticky situations; Kazuki and Rei rarely let her out of their sight besides daycare, but just in case, they had taught her that it was always better to make grown-ups fawn and coo over her than to shout and yell.
And loud.
Shit, was that kid loud.
Kazuki and Rei had taken her in months ago, and even still it stunned them how much noise she could make, regardless of her mood. When she was upset, she’d wail and cry and thrash in their arms, always at just the right angle to send her screeches rattling into their ears. Even when happy, though, her elated laughter and squealing—while preferable—could become ear-splitting if they didn’t keep a safe distance.
(Kazuki had even bought a pair of those noise-canceling headsets that Rei used for gaming, just to keep his eardrums from bursting when Miri decided to hover while he did chores. Yet he realized pretty quickly that ‘noise-canceling’ was mostly just a buzzword for the advert; at best, they were ‘noise-muffling’.)
As much as Miri’s volume could be a source of stress, it became something of a comfort to Kazuki and Rei. With Miri always hopping and giggling around with her toys, they knew she was present and safe and within reach, just in case danger struck. But if the apartment suddenly went quiet, it was cause for alarm, and both of their heads came to automatically jerk up to scout the situation.
Sometimes it was nothing serious. Miri had a habit of crawling into small spaces and falling asleep at random; behind the television, next to the dishwasher, under her bookshelf— they always found her eventually, especially once they realized this was a habit of hers, and they could sigh with relief, scoop her up, and tuck her into bed properly.
Other times, though, a suspicious silence really did signal an issue.
The first time she got sick, for instance.
It was only a cold, really, barely more than a runny nose and a mild fever, but it still rattled both Kazuki and Rei to watch their little Miri laying in bed, looking even tinier than usual. She was so quiet and still, tucked under extra blankets with all three of her favorite plushies for comfort.
Of course, Kazuki and Rei weren’t stupid. They knew she’d be alright eventually, but that hadn’t stopped them from feeling nearly as miserable as Miri. They’d taken shifts at her bedside, silently sitting vigil and watching her pallid face intently, her eyes that refused to open except for a little water or a spoonful of medicine.
And she did get better. Of course she did. Kids bounced back like that, ninety-nine percent of the time, as Kyutarou tried to reassure them over the phone.
Yet that first prolonged silence was enough to rattle them solidly for several days, and something indefinable yet noticeable shifted for both Kazuki and Rei.
They could protect her from guns or knives or any such form of violence, easily. That was their job. Some days they even had enough audacity and alcohol in their systems to admit it was their calling.
But they couldn’t protect Miri from everything.
Some things would just come to sting and lash and burn their little girl’s heart, and the best Kazuki and Rei could do was help her recover from the fall-out.
Something’s wrong.
Kazuki saw the text come as soon as his phone vibrated, and his heart stopped in his chest. Kyutarou must have noticed him go rigid, because he stopped in the middle of his sentence to watch Kazuki scrambling to pick up his phone and start to type out a frantic reply.
Luckily, Rei beat him to it.
Sorry, not like that. She’s safe.
Kazuki blew out a breath and clutched his chest with poorly masked relief.
“This is why I don’t send him for daycare pick-up,” he told Kyutarou with a sigh, not bothering to elaborate.
(Kyutarou seemed glad for it. He went back to polishing.)
so what’s the matter?? Kazuki wrote back hastily, hunched over his phone.
It took a few long moments this time before a reply came, and Kazuki had to remind himself to be patient, that Rei was either typing one-handed with Miri’s hand clutching the other or was trying to text while keeping her hooked securely on his back.
Finally, his phone vibrated again.
She’s quiet. I don’t know. Must’ve been something at daycare, but her teacher didn’t seem to think anything was weird.
Kazuki gnawed on his thumbnail.
yeah, anna seems responsible. she’d say something if she noticed it. i just hope it’s nothing really bad.
Rei never laughed—barely even smiled, really—and certainly never stooped so low as to type “lol”, but Kazuki could feel his amusement in his text a minute later.
Like what, Kazuki? It’s daycare. She probably just didn’t sleep well at nap time.
Kazuki almost sent back a snarky quip of his own, but held back. He valued his life more than that, and besides, Rei would be returning to the shop with Miri in tow soon.
Indeed, it was only a minute or two later that the door to the café opened, and the bell overhead jingled cheerfully to alert of the returning customers.
As anticipated, Rei had Miri’s tiny hand held in his own as she walked beside him, her pink backpack slung around his shoulder.
In mere moments, Kazuki noticed what Rei had meant. Miri didn’t walk into rooms so much as she burst through doors, already chattering a million miles an hour and hopping around the nearest friend like a playful puppy. Today, she practically had to be dragged across the threshold of the café, eyes cast to the floor and her free hand hovering near her mouth. Never in the months she’d lived with them had Kazuki seen her suck her thumb, yet there was a first time for everything, he supposed, and now he didn’t know if he was supposed to scold her for it.
As reported, Miri was as quiet as the dead.
And, as expected, Kazuki had zero idea what, if anything, to say about it.
“Welcome back,” Kyutarou called, ever the level-headed one. (Then again, compared to Kazuki, most people were.) “Did you have a good time at daycare, Miri?”
Miri glanced up just long enough to give him the briefest half-smile and shrugged her shoulders, but then her eyes were back on the ground.
Rei hung her backpack on the back of the chair next to Kazuki, then bent down to help Miri up into it.
“Did anything happen that you want to talk about?” He asked in that low, level voice of his.
Miri shook her head. “It was boring,” she mumbled, looking off to the side.
The three men exchanged matching looks.
“Well!” Kazuki said finally, slapping his hands on his jeans. “Time to get going, huh? Let’s get you home, Miri. If you finish your homework, you can play that new Pokémon game you got last week.”
Normally, Rei would bristle at his console privileges being doled out without his consent, but he only looked worried when Miri shrugged once more and pulled on her backpack for the walk home.
She didn’t even ask to be carried.
When they got home, Miri wandered into the living room to set down her backpack while Kazuki and Rei loitered awkwardly in the kitchen, waiting for some god of parenting to float down from the heavens with instructions for this kind of thing.
Luckily, Miri helped out before that.
“Papa?”
Even when Kazuki and Rei both turned in her direction, Miri’s eyes remained firmly cast down to the floor.
“I don’t think I can do my homework for the weekend,” she said in a quiet voice, and Kazuki then noticed the small picture book she was hugging to her chest.
He hesitated.
“Well, what’s the homework?” Kazuki asked, trying to keep his voice jovial. “I’m sure we can figure it out. We managed those math problems last night, remember?”
She silently held out the book until Kazuki hesitantly took it, then turned on her heel and headed towards the spiral staircase. He was pretty sure neither of them breathed until her tiny feet had pattered into her room at the top of the stairs.
After a moment, Rei elbowed his ribs gruffly and nodded to the book in Kazuki’s hand.
“Well, what is it?” He asked impatiently.
The front of the book looked like any other short picture book Miri picked out during their weekend trips to the library. Lots of pink hearts with little figures holding hands, around a large bolded title: My Happy Family.
“You think she really got all worked up because of a book?” Kazuki asked, not so much to Rei as to the universe as a whole, but his partner shrugged.
“She’s four. Open it.”
Kazuki felt like a bomb might go off if he did, but he nervously followed orders, and together they read through the colorfully-illustrated pages in silence.
Families show love in many ways.
Papa goes to his job every morning.
He works hard to provide for our family.
Thanks to him, we have enough money for toys and sweets.
I think he is very strong.
Mama takes me to school.
She tidies up and cooks yummy food.
Thanks to her, the house is clean and we have meals to eat.
I think she is very nice.
Papa takes us on adventures to explore.
We go to the park, the zoo, and the forest.
It’s always lots of fun!
Mama does the laundry.
Sometimes I get to help!
The clean clothes are wet, so we pin them on the line.
Then we fold the dry clothes and put them in the closet.
Papa and Mama show their love for each other.
They kiss, hold hands, and cuddle in bed.
Sometimes they go on dates while I stay with Grandma.
When they argue, it makes me feel sad.
But they always make up because they love each other so much.
I am so happy to have a loving family.
How do your Mama and Papa show love to you?
How do they show love to each other?
On the back of the little picture booklet, Miss Anna had written instructions in a neat script.
Giraffe class: Over the weekend, watch how your family members show each other love. Draw a picture to share at circle time on Monday.
Kazuki and Rei looked at each other, pursing their lips.
“You think this is about her mom?” Rei muttered.
Kazuki shrugged helplessly.
“We knew it would come up eventually,” he said, chewing nervously on his thumbnail. “We don’t look like the moms doing drop-off at the daycare. Maybe one of the other kids finally noticed and said something to her about it?”
Rei grunted, his eyes darkening.
“Poison, you think?”
Kazuki used the picture book to smack the back of his head.
“Would you snap out of hitman-mode for one goddamn second?” He said with a huff. “We have to talk to her about it. Besides, if it was a kid who said something, I can’t really blame them. I would’ve thought having two dads was weird as a kid, too.”
Rei rubbed his head and pouted.
“Fine,” he said finally. “But you know I don’t do the talking stuff. I’m just sitting in the corner.”
Kazuki rolled his eyes and grabbed the collar of Rei’s jacket to drag him up the spiral staircase, despite his squirming and whines of protest.
“I’ll take what I can get.”
The door to Miri’s room looked so different than every other plain, wooden door in the apartment, Kazuki found himself thinking. She had conned Rei into helping her cover it in flower stickers one day, and she'd bring home her favorite drawings from school to tape up, too.
It wasn’t closed when Kazuki—who finally released his grip on Rei—reached the threshold, so he could see inside.
It always struck him deep in his chest how Miri looked so small. Every time he folded her laundry, he felt like he was having an existential crisis, wailing to Rei with each little dress and shirt and— oh, don’t even get him started on her positively microscopic socks. He couldn’t believe it when Anna recently wrote in her notebook that Miri had grown a whole inch since beginning daycare.
Today, though, she looked especially tiny on her child-sized bed, sitting cross-legged as she toyed with a loose thread on her sweater.
“Miri? Can we talk, please?” He asked, cringing inwardly at how nervous his voice sounded.
This was a four-year-old child, he reminded himself. Nothing to be nervous about.
Well, fine, even if he was nervous, he should’ve been able to mask it far better. He was an assassin for god’s sake.
Miri didn’t look up at them, but gave a single, small nod, and Kazuki took that as a small win.
He stepped inside first and was able to nab the seat at her little desk, leaving Rei to shoot him a glare but reluctantly sit at the foot of her bed.
“We looked at your homework,” he began cautiously. “It doesn’t— I guess, the family in the book doesn’t look much like us, does it?”
He looked to Rei for guidance, but his partner’s eyes were very unhelpfully fixed on Miri.
“I don’t have a mama anymore,” Miri said under her breath. “She didn’t love me like the mama in the storybook.”
It wasn’t odd to hear a child’s tone switch to angry or upset, but Kazuki found himself rattled by how bitter the words sounded rolling over Miri’s tongue—a tiny child’s voice that carried too much experience with grown-up emotions.
It brought back the rage Kazuki had left in that dark, dingy bar months ago, an anger he had to release by exhaling slowly through his nostrils. Not the time nor the place, he reminded himself. He could go ask Kyu to find him a trafficker whom he could empty a clip into later if he wanted to let it out properly, but they needed to focus on Miri now.
“You’re right,” he said finally. “And I’m sorry. It’s very sad that she couldn’t see all the wonderful things about you that are worth loving.”
Miri whimpered and curled forward, burying her face in Rei’s leg and shoving her hands over her ears.
Rei’s voice remained low as always, but he did make a valiant attempt by piping up when Kazuki’s words failed him.
“We can’t help if we don’t know how you’re feeling.”
Miri swallowed hard enough for them both to hear it.
“Mama isn’t the problem,” she said in a small voice, still leaning against Rei. “She doesn’t care about me, so I don’t care about her. I don’t need her to do the cooking or the cleaning or the laundry, like the mama in the book.”
Rei and Kazuki exchanged brief but identical glances. As usual, they were totally out of their element here, and they hated to see Miri suffer even more because of it.
“So Papas are the problem?” Kazuki pressed, even if it made his heart sink to hear it said aloud.
Miri bolted upright so fast that she nearly fell off the bed, saved only by Rei’s quick instincts and the arm he wrapped around her.
“No!” She practically screeched.
(Finally, some volume. Now Kazuki felt somewhat more in his element.)
“No, the papa in the book only does some of the work,” she continued. “My papas do all of it. You go to work so you can get me clothes and toys, and cook me yummy stuff, and play games with me, even when you don’t wanna! My papas show that— that you love me.”
Kazuki’s face flushed, but he forced himself to keep his chin up.
“We do,” he agreed. “But why does that make you sad?”
Miri shook her head so hard that her flower hair-clip nearly fell out.
“It doesn’t!” She said, even louder this time. Frustrated, angrier the longer she was misunderstood. “It’s that Papas don’t love each other like the mamas and papas in the book.”
Tears welled in her eyes as she looked between the two, almost accusatory.
“Do you really hate each other?” She asked in a panic, hugging her arms to her chest. “Are you gonna get a dee-vorse like Kotori’s mama and papa?”
Rei rubbed slow, soothing circles between her shoulder blades.
“We aren’t married,” he said simply. “You can’t get divorced unless you’re married first.”
This didn’t seem to upset Miri any further—Thank fuck, Kazuki thought—but it sure wasn’t the solution to the problem.
Her mouth stayed set in a firm line, and the tears in her eyes still welled dangerously close to spilling over.
“Kotori’s the only one at daycare whose parents got d-divorced. All my other friends’ parents love each other,” Miri said emphatically. “But you love each other, right? ‘Cause we can’t be a family if you don’t!”
Kazuki felt his mouth go dry as his tongue tried to say many things at once. Rei was still looking down at Miri, but somehow Kazuki felt his gaze all the way across the room.
“Papas are— we’re very close, see,” Kazuki tried to explain. “We’ve known each other a very long time. We’ve told you about that, remember? That’s why we live together and help each other. We care in— in our own ways.”
Miri mulled this over, keeping hold of Rei’s arm.
“So you are married?” She asked finally, cocking her head.
Kazuki’s face flushed.
“No, no, you— you don’t have to be married to love someone,” he said hastily, feeling like his face might’ve caught on fire when he wasn’t looking. After a second to think, he added, “Actually, you really shouldn’t get married to someone until you’re in love with them.”
“Oh.” Miri seemed to consider this for a long moment before deciding, “That makes sense.”
Kazuki’s shoulders dropped as the tension melted off.
Success.
“So will you and Papa Rei get married since you do love each other?”
Shit.
“No, Miri, that wasn’t what— I mean, like— it’s not the same when—”
Rei cut him off, quiet and steady.
“We just haven’t gotten around to it. Lots of paperwork, see.”
Miri’s mouth made a little “o” shape.
“Grown-up homework,” she said with a sage nod.
Rei nodded back.
“Very boring,” he affirmed. “But getting married is just fancy paper. It doesn’t mean much. But we’re still a family— a little bit of a weird sort, but that just makes us more fun. Neither of us are going anywhere.”
He held out his pinky finger in a silent promise.
Miri finally exhaled, her shoulders dropping in relief, and her pinky wrapped around Rei’s with a fervent grip Kazuki could feel from across the room.
Right. He needed to contribute to this somehow, too.
“You drew a really nice picture of us for Job Day.” Kazuki managed to force a smile. “Can you think of a new one to draw for class this weekend?”
Miri thought for a moment.
“I’ll draw Papa Rei picking up the couch so you can vacuum,” she said with a decisive nod, hopping up to get her colors.
It was very slight, but only years of knowing Rei Suwa allowed Kazuki to see the smile he was biting back. Kazuki allowed himself to smile for both of them in return.
“You do that. And after you show Miss Anna and your classmates, we’ll stick it on the fridge, hm?” He offered, ruffling her hair fondly.
“Mm-hm!”
They left her at her desk, hard at work, and headed back downstairs to begin dinner (Kazuki) and resume gaming (Rei).
But before that, as soon as they were safely out of Miri’s earshot, Kazuki grabbed Rei’s sleeve before he could get too far away.
Rei didn’t look him in the eyes, just turned his face enough to acknowledge him.
“Hey, about all that...” Kazuki began weakly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to— it’s just hard to explain— Thank you for telling her—”
“You told me,” Rei cut him off, “That you didn’t ever want to marry again.”
Kazuki blinked.
He racked his brain for that particular conversation, and only came up with a hazy memory from those first few days at Rei’s apartment.
It hadn’t stopped raining the entire week, and wouldn’t for another few days. Kazuki’s cheeks had still felt wet from the storm, long after Rei had dragged him off the balcony, locked the door behind them, dried him off with warm towels, so gentle that Kazuki had wondered if that was what a mother was like.
If that was the mother Yuzuko would’ve been like.
Kazuki remembered now.
It was something said in the heat of the moment while lightning flashed dangerously outside, a bitter, angry thing spat out as he stared at the floor, because it was easier to look there than into Rei’s eyes.
Even now, with the afternoon sun pouring in through those tall windows and their daughter coloring happily upstairs, it was still easier to look anywhere than Rei’s eyes. Yet Kazuki forced himself.
“It was only a week after it happened,” he said, unable to say much more.
Rei shrugged his shoulders. His dark blue eyes were so piercing, full of an emotion Kazuki couldn’t place.
“I wouldn’t blame you if… even now. You always said— she was your person.”
Kazuki’s heart stuttered in his chest, and he wondered whether he needed to sit down. He wondered whether he should let go of Rei’s sleeve before it became weird.
“I told you I wasn’t gonna survive it. Losing her. Both of them,” Kazuki said. “But you told me I would.”
Rei swallowed and finally broke their eye contact, looked out the window at the pinks and oranges smeared across the city skyline.
“I knew you would. You’re strong. And stubborn.”
Kazuki breathed a laugh.
“I had you to pull me back from the edge,” he murmured. “I still have you.”
“As long as you’ll have me.”
“Always. That's a promise.”
The rarest exchange of smiles.
And maybe the beginning of some very boring paperwork.