Chapter Text
Rei doesn’t think he’s ever had a true “home cooked” meal in his life. Even when living at the Suwa estate, that food was cooked to perfection in accordance with whatever expensive taste the Boss deemed suitable for his table. Can a meal that’s cooked by professional chefs that have figurative (sometimes literal) guns to their heads really count as “home cooked?” Rei decides the answer is no.
That would make his forced time at the Kurusu-Unasaka dinner table a first for him. Sounds like there’s going to be a lot of “firsts” that come with this job, in general. Rei studies the spread of food in front of him—lots of vegetables and… green things that he’s never seen before; except maybe in a much scaled down version that he picks out of his instant noodles.
Rei picks at his food, only taking the smallest bites when Kurusu shoots him an irritated look. Miri talks almost the entire time—Rei couldn’t say about what; he’s not paying any mind to her.
He still has to get a better idea of the apartments’ layout—specifically the bedrooms. They’d be lucky if they didn’t already have his location and were halfway through with a plan to ambush him. Idiot, Rei cannot help thinking. How long has this been going on before Kurusu decided to ask for help?
“All done!” Miri yells and throws her hands in the air. “I want down! Rei!”
Rei hesitates, eyes flitting to Kurusu across the table, whose expression is critical and expectant, before going back to Miri. Her arms wave around with impatience.
“Uh,” Rei says. Miri wiggles even more at the sound of his voice.
“Rei, pretty please!”
Awkwardly, Rei abandons his fork to lift Miri up, over the side of her chair, and to the floor. Her feet hardly touch the ground before she’s already taking off. In a flash, she’s by her fake-father’s side, tugging at his sweater.
“Papa, can you and Rei play with me?” She asks with a pleading pout.
Kurusu languidly shoves another bite of salad in his mouth. “It’s bath time right now. Maybe after?”
Thinking this over for a moment, Miri then turns back to Rei. “Will you still be here after my bath, Rei?”
Rei nods. There’s work to be done, discussed, plans to be made—much left to do before he leaves—none of which he can do in her presence. He’s forced to wait until the opportunity presents itself.
“Yay!” Miri cheers, rushing off into what Rei assumes is the bathroom.
Muttering to himself, Kurusu gathers their plates, including Rei’s, and sets them in the sink. “Give us a couple minutes and we’ll be right out. Then we—”
“Papaaaa! Water!”
A long sigh. “Duty calls. Look around, do whatever you have to do, I guess.”
Everything he needs to do will take far longer than the allotted bath time. But Rei nods. Making a mental note of everything is a start at least. To the tune of Miri’s singing and Kazuki cooing gentle commands, Rei finishes his inspection of the apartment. All the windows need to be reinforced, better curtains, maybe new locks on every door, most of all the front—all his previous assessments affirmed.
He’s broken out of his focus by a damp Miri latching herself to the ends of his suit jacket and pulling. Rei fights back a reactionary flinch. Harmless. Your job is to ensure her survival, Rei reminds himself.
“We’re going to play knights!” She tugs again—Rei allows himself to be moved along. “Do you want to be the knight, dragon, or the prince? Papa and I can only be the dragon and the knight but now we can have a prince too!”
Whichever one is the easiest, that’s the one he wants. The knight most likely will battle the dragon, so that means… “Prince?”
Miri grins widely at his choice. “Wow! You’re even dressed like one too. Perfect!”
Turns out, being the prince is a more difficult job than anticipated. Mostly because the role comes with a caveat: it’s two-in-one; and he had to double as the knight’s horse. Thankfully, Miri decided she wanted to be the knight and ride on Rei’s shoulders as she tried to spur him into a quicker pace than walking. Kurusu also tries to egg him on with taunts and “haughty dragon” monologues.
Longest 10 minutes of Rei’s life. By the time they finished slaying the dragon (which was, Rei will admit to himself, very entertaining to watch; as the “knight” was so much smaller and climbed all over the “dragon”), it’s time for bed.
“Papa, can Rei help read to me?” Miri asks as Kurusu tucks her in.
Rei makes the mistake of assuming that Kurusu would choose to let Rei out of this responsibility. Unfortunately, Rei forgot to factor in the fact that it would also be the least entertaining option for Kurusu.
That bastard grins and tells her, “Wonderful idea!”
Rei shakes his head.
Kurusu practically skips over to him and slaps a small book to his chest. “Do your best, Mister Bodyguard.”
Rei shakes his head again, more intensely. It earns him nothing but a laugh and a pat to the book before he’s left alone with a child. This is probably the first time anything like this has happened to Rei. Details of Rei’s life are fuzzy, even to him.
“Rei!” Miri calls him. “Read to me!”
Can he do that from here, by the door? Or does he have to get closer? How much closer? He expects there to be some sort of intuition that will lead him, carry him through this type of interaction. But nothing happens.
Miri is the one that compels him. She hits a spot next to her so he’ll draw closer and sit, cautiously on the edge of her bed. A high-pitched giggle tells him that he’s followed instructions correctly.
The book itself poses a completely different issue. He stares at the bright colored cover harshly.
Eager for her story, Miri demands, “Now, Rei! Please, please, please, please—” and so on until Rei finally opens the book. Wrong move apparently.
“Nooooo,” she whines. “You have to say the name first!”
“Uh. ‘Goodnight Moon?’”
She cheers like he’d given the opening credits to her movie. Rei pauses, ensuring that she’s satisfied with his title reciting before tentatively opening the book back up. The rest of the reading goes relatively smooth—of course, with Miri occasionally stopping him to correct something that he’s doing wrong. (Why does he have to do voices?)
Finally, it’s over and Miri’s blinks become heavy. She yawns. “Rei?”
“Yeah?”
“Will you read me another story tomorrow?” She asks, eyes barely open.
“N—” Rei starts. Then he corrects himself, “Maybe.”
“Yaaayy,” Miri mumbles, at long last, drifting off.
Immediately upon Miri falling asleep, Rei has the urge to faceplant into the plush rug of her room. He leaves and crashes on the couch in the living room instead, letting his head fall back on the plush cushions.
Children aren’t his forte—in fact, he can’t recall interacting with one for long enough to know anything substantial about them. Now that he’s thinking about it, he’s not sure if he’s ever really seen children much, let alone talked to them. And Miri…
Miri is something.
Kurusu interrupts his thoughts with a slight laugh. “You okay there, dude?”
Rei’s shoulders straighten a bit, adjusting himself to sit somewhat properly on the couch. “Yeah.”
Humming, Kurusu strides into the kitchen and retrieves a beer for him to pop open. He motions it to Rei in an offer—one Rei declines by shaking his head. Once he’s finally able to sink into the couch cushions, Kurusu groans in relief. “Kids are tiring a lot of the time!”
“She’s always like that then?”
“Well, yeah, man, she’s a kid,” Kurusu says it like it’s obvious. “I’ve only had her for a few weeks but the energy? Always at that level pretty much.”
Fantastic. It sounds like Kurusu might need another person on top of a bodyguard to keep up with everything. However, that would bring up the issue of explaining to a third party what the hell he’s doing here. They can be confused together because Rei is starting to wonder the same thing.
“So!” Kurusu starts, then takes a quick swig before continuing. “The job…”
“I’m not a babysitter,” Rei says dryly. “If the job is me sitting around here all day to make sure no one breaks in, you’ve hired the wrong profession.”
Kurusu waves at the air between them as he’s drinking more from his bottle. “No, no. Most of the work I do happens at night. Just get to and from daycare. I’ll be here every morning and most days I should be here until she goes to sleep.”
“Filling the gaps then,” Rei surmises. “How’s the daycare?”
“It has some good reviews online! It’s close, sanitary, and all the caregivers—”
“I meant with their protective measures,” Rei butts in.
Kurusu pauses. “Oh. Well, they have a gate that’s only open during drop-offs and pickups—“
“How high?”
“Uh,” Kurusu draws out, face contorting in thought. “Three meters, approximately.”
“Climbable. Continue.”
“ID cards are required to get in and out of the building. Otherwise it stays locked.” Kurusu takes several long drinks. “But they have a decent system to uphold it. Already tried to break in, out of curiosity. It’s possible, though the whole building is notified of it immediately. If no one’s there, they find out in the morning.”
Rei nods, only a minute tilt of his head. “Background checks?”
Kurusu’s eyes roll as he groans. “Dude, intel gathering and planning is my job. One I’m pretty damn good at if you recall. Of course I did background checks—they’re all clean.”
“I remember,” Rei grunts. “You’re overbearing and weird on the job.”
Like someone had punched him in the gut, Kurusu recoils and gasps in offense. “I am not! And it’s not like you can say much, Mister Broody Slob!”
“I’m not overbearing.”
“You’re impulsive,” Kurusu snaps. “It’s a wonder you haven’t gotten shot—”
“I have,” Rei breaks in. “Multiple times.”
Kurusu waves his arms around frantically, like he’s trying to swim in the empty air, almost hitting Rei in the process. “See?! God, man. Why am I hiring you again?”
Rei raises a brow, deadpan otherwise. “Don’t know but I don’t really care.”
“Rhetorical question, Suwa,” Kurusu mutters into the mouth of his beer bottle.
At the mention of his surname, the bile in Rei’s stomach curdles. It’s the family name—one that’s above him and beneath him and ever-looming over his shoulder. The organization will be his one day and Suwa is the only name he’ll ever know again. “Not Suwa,” Rei insists.
Kurusu finishes off his beer and sends him a quizzical look. “That wasn’t a problem a few years back.”
Rei refuses to answer.
“Fine, man, I won’t ask,” Kurusu sighs out. Then his lips curve up into a sharp but teasing smile. “‘Rei’ then? I didn’t know you preferred your first name, Rei.”
“You don’t know me.” Simple. Fact. Kurusu doesn’t know the first thing about him, not even after spending that time with him those years ago, as little as it was.
The grin refuses to waver. His stare travels over Rei’s face, calculating, before finally allowing his smile to finally reach his eyes. “I think I know enough.”
“Clearly not. Who the hell chops a professional hitman’s hair off while they’re asleep?”
“You still remember that?” Kurusu asks, (somehow) genuinely surprised.
Rei’s frown deepens. “Yeah. Then you left before I woke up in a pile of my own hair and could kill you for it.”
Why the hell is Kurusu acting like Rei is the irrational one here? Rei never thought he’d be glad that he’s working with a child instead of an adult but, at this rate, he’s starting to prefer his chances with Miri.
Kurusu searches over him again. “Well,” Kurusu starts, smugness taking over his face. “Considering you still kept the undercut, I’d count that as me having a positive influence in your life. So much beautiful hair and you didn’t take care of it! Plus you…I don’t know, man. Seemed like you needed some sort of change.”
Change? Rei could scoff. No matter how much hair Kurusu cuts off, that won’t alter who Rei is—or rather, what Rei is.
“And a haircut was what you decided was necessary for me?”
“Partially,” Kurusu chirps. “Probably would’ve cleaned your apartment too if I’d known where you lived. Maybe stocked your fridge with actual food.”
…how is Rei supposed to respond to that? Kurusu has never set foot anywhere near his apartment. He guesses Kurusu could assume based on his hotel room habits. But more than that, Rei can’t figure out Kurusu. If what he said is true, then Kurusu was, in a weird backwards way, trying to be kind to Rei. Unheard of, in his experience, so it’s most likely some sort of lie or trick to get Rei to keep the job. Kurusu must’ve gotten better at lying over the years.
Rei pulls out a pack of cigarettes from an inner jacket pocket. Too much brain work—he needs some sort of relief.
Before he can put one between his lips, Kurusu injects, “Woah, hold on! You can’t do that here, there’s a kid. That shit messes with their…development or something I don’t know.”
Goddamnit. He stands and trudges to the door. “Fine. I’ll be back.”
“You can go home if you want, I think we’ve covered just about everything—”
“Payment,” Rei grunts. “How long the contract will be. Supplies you need to pick up tomorrow.”
Kurusu gets up too with a little groan of complaint. Old man. “I can tell you some of those things now. The whole Miri’s dad thing will take a few months—”
“I need to smoke.”
“Not in the building—!”
Rei already has his lighter out, lit, and up to the end of his cigarette before the door slams shut. He doesn’t actually light it until he’s at a window at the end of the hall though. The old frame creaks as he cracks it open and settles on the sill once he’s sure that the puffs are filtering out into the night air.
A small stick at Kurusu—he’s still in the building, technically—and yet it’s also somewhat of a compromise. Rei supposes he might have to learn to make those on this job.
The smoke curls on his sighing exhale before dissipating completely from sight—the smell though, clings to his nose, his suit, probably his fingers too. He’ll have to get it washed or even a new one so the kid won’t…develop incorrectly, or whatever the hell Kurusu said.
As his cigarette edges closer to his fingers, he hears a ring from the inside of his pocket. Rei pinches his nose, inhaling deeply, then fishes out his phone. There’s only three options of who it could be—and one of them is pouting on a couch a few doors down.
“Yes?” Rei grunts into the receiver after accepting the call.
“Rei,” the Boss says in lieu of an actual greeting. “I expected you home.”
“I’m on a job. Long-term.”
The displeased noise from Boss’ end crackles over the phone. “Nothing is more important than the future of the Suwa line. I’m starting to believe that you don’t understand that.”
“I do,” Rei affirms.
“I don’t believe you,” the Boss says, low and threatening, like the warning growl of a predator. “You cannot lie to me, Rei. I’ll know.”
Rei can feel his shoulders shrinking into himself. He takes another soothing drag from his cigarette. “Got it.”
A slight pause. It’s never a promising sign when the Boss does that—it means he’s thinking, scheming something meticulous and bulletproof.
“Have it your way,” the Boss relents. “But you’ll know what to expect upon your return. You haven’t been away long enough to forget that, have you?”
Rei shudders under the implication and feels all the scars that lie beneath his clothes, rubbing fabric in a way that makes Rei cringe. Those old wounds healed with memories still in them, trapped beneath layers of skin. So, in short, no. He’ll never be able to forget—the Boss made sure of that.
“I have not,” Rei says quietly as he flicks his cigarette butt out the window.
“I thought so,” Boss’ voice buzzes through the speaker. “You have six months. Or I’ll retrieve you myself, understood?”
Rei resists a sigh. Six months is reasonable; truthfully, far too generous for the head of the Suwa family to be offering. He’ll have to be even more careful when it comes to checking for people tailing him now. Annoying. All this is too complicated—at least it will all be over by the end of the year.
“Understood.”
The line clicks, dead in his ear. He trades his phone for another cigarette, deciding that Kurusu can wait just a little bit longer. In fact, it’s probably better that he does; otherwise, Rei’s brain might go into overdrive and end up convincing him to deck Kurusu in his stupid, smiling face.
How do either of them do that? Smile like it’s nothing? Rei wonders, but only briefly before shoving those thoughts far into the back of his mind. There are better things to think about…
Like…the route he’ll take Miri to daycare. No, video games. That’s much more pleasant and far removed from any of the sudden complexities that come with his work life.
If he and Kurusu get done talking soon then he should have plenty of time to walk home and crash on his couch for a 20 minute nap. After that, he might have a few hours to play before having to head out again…he should ask what time daycare is. Also where it is. Ug. Too many things. He never has to think this much on a job.
Best get it over with. Rei drags him back inside to face a Kurusu he has no doubt is pouting.
Rei isn’t a morning person—not unless you count the late nights he’s spent getting 100% completion on his playthroughs and suddenly the sun starts shining into the apartment. Rei doesn’t count those and he’s pretty sure no one else would either. Kurusu definitely would not.
He’s up and chipper as can be as he pokes at the eggs in the frying pan. Rei sits on the exact same spot on the couch as he had the previous night, blinking away the drowsiness (or trying to). Miri is…actually Rei doesn’t know what she’s doing at the moment.
As if on cue, a small crash sounds from the bedroom followed by an “uh oh!”, quick footsteps leading to the bathroom, and a door shutting. Kurusu stiffens and calls out to her suspiciously. “Miri?”
“Whoopsies!” Another crash.
“Shit!” Kurusu abandons his eggs in favor of rushing into the bathroom. Once the door slams open, he lets out a gasp so loud Rei swears it has to hurt. “Miri! Wh—!”
“My shirt was dirty! I tried to clean it!” She proclaims.
Rei doesn’t have to see Kurusu to know that his face is turning all red, steam virtually pouring out of his ears. The mental image is funny enough to draw a non-laugh out of him (a silent exhale only slightly more sharp than the others).
Kurusu exclaims, “You can’t clean marker off of cloth with shampoo! How did you even get ink on it?!”
“Miri wrote her name but messed up!”
“What?”
Rei smells something burning.
“You said my name had to be on my clothes for daycare!”
Kurusu sputters, “Y-yes but not on the front of it! Oh god, that shirt cost—”
Okay, something is definitely burning. Rei turns his attention to the kitchen, where gray plumes of smoke have begun to rise from the egg pan. As the seconds pass, the density slowly increases along with the volume of Kurusu’s voice.
“—removing those kinds of stains is a delicate process. Please come to me next time!”
“Okay!”
“Thank you,” Kurusu says, relieved.
It’ll be short lived when he exits the bathroom and discovers that there’s a small fire blooming in his kitchen. Rei squints. Did Kurusu accidentally throw the towel he had over his shoulder onto the stove?
“Papa, can I wear my kitty-kitty shirt to daycare?” Miri asks excitedly over the running water. Kurusu must be trying to do something about the stain. Bad timing, Rei notes.
Kurusu mutters something that Rei can’t quite make out—he thinks he might be threatening the ink that mars Miri’s shirt. “Huh? Oh sure, sure thing.”
“Woo!!!” Miri screams and rushes out from the bathroom straight into her room.
No one else is noticing the…kitchen debacle it seems. Well, Rei supposes that their apartment burning down would be inconvenient for the job. This can be a little side mission for him while he waits. He drags himself into the kitchen and stands in front of the burning towel-egg combo in front of him.
Studying it for a moment, Rei reaches out to the knob and turns it slowly. The stove reddens, which Rei takes as a bad sign and turns it sharply in the other direction until it clicks. That seems to do the trick, though the fire still poses an issue. He plucks the towel up with two fingers and drops it into the nearby sink so he can run the faucet over it.
Even with the fire now doused, the smoke fogs up the room like a downed cloud. Rei glares at the smoke detector that should be fired from its job. Oh well. At least the apartment is still standing. Mission accomplished.
“Smokey?” A high-pitched voice suddenly chimes.
Miri stands in the entryway to the kitchen, her wide brown eyes scanning the area with a thoroughness Rei freezes at. Her little nose scrunches up as if she’s only now smelling the smoke and then she sees Rei. It only takes a moment before she barrels at him full force and tackles him around the waist.
“Rei! Fire means stop, drop, and roll! You have to follow the rules or you’ll turn crispy!” Miri shrieks frantically.
“Crispy?” Rei mutters at the same time Kurusu bursts in saying, “Fire?!”
Next thing Rei knows, the both of them are talking to him, loud and panicked, one for each of his ears. Kurusu whines at the mess, Miri cries that Rei is going to fry to death, and Rei stands in the middle of the kitchen, somewhat wishing he’d done nothing at all.
Furiously, after his fluttering around the kitchen and cursing under his breath is out of his system, Kurusu points a finger in Rei’s face. “I’ll let this one slide since you saved my favorite nonstick pan. But next time at least tell me, man! My heart can’t handle scares like these!”
Kurusu places a hand over his heart, leaning back as he pretends that his real body is actually failing him. Miri, thankfully now distracted from her grief of Rei’s nonexistent untimely death, cackles at his antics. “Papa’s heartbeat goes bum-bum-bum instead of ba-dump!”
Rei has no idea what she means by this but she’s already moved on from it. She looks back up to him. “Did you save the house?”
“Kind of,” he tells her truthfully.
Stars appear in her eyes as she gazes at him with the most adoration he’s ever seen directed his way and her lips stretch into an awed grin. “Rei-kun is so, so cool!”
Something unfamiliar and subtle twists deep within Rei’s chest. Cool? He’s as precise and accurate as his aim—that’s all he’s ever been. “Cool” he’s never ever been. But he doesn’t want to erase that expression from her either so instead he says, “Thanks?”
“The hero of the house, Rei-kun,” Kurusu coos, mocking.
Rei narrows his eyes at him, making the other man snicker at him as he begins his second attempt at eggs. Miri latches onto the end of Rei’s suit jacket but turns to her guardian. “Papa, can we watch the veggies?”
“First could you—oi, Miri!”
But she’s already tumbling into the living room, Rei in tow, and mashing buttons on the television remote. Rei presses the power button for her and she squeals as the screen lights up with…a dancing carrot?
“You have to happy dance or else the evil laser beams will come down and explode you like BOOM!” Miri prattles, very serious.
Rei can’t tell if this is a part of the show or something Miri made up. She’s very adamant about it though—his silence results in her face contorting and her socked feet plopping ever closer to his. Miri’s tiny feet stomp with all her might onto his to vent her frustration with him. “Rei-kun! Rei-kun! The lasers!”
He taps his foot against the ground in time to the jingling music. Miri, though thrilled with the development, is not satisfied and points to her smile with both hands. “Happy dance! You have to look happy!”
When Rei doesn’t comply, Miri stops completely, all sense of joy gone. That same critical gaze she’d given to the kitchen now directed at him. He can’t help but feel that he’s disappointed her in some way. “Why don’t you smile?”
What a loaded question. Rei decides to side step all the nasty details of his less than ideal childhood. “I can’t.”
“What do you mean?” She asks, upset. Rei’s stomach turns—he had meant to avoid this; troublesome.
Rei shrugged. “Boss said I couldn’t.”
“Boss,” Miri repeats. Her lip juts out in a prominent frown that takes over her entire face. “Papa Kazu would never say that!”
Shit, he’d forgotten about his cover. “My…last boss.”
“That’s mean of him,” Miri concludes with a firm nod. “You can smile when you’re here! Miri will make you no matter what!”
Kurusu laughs from the kitchen. “Good luck with that, Miri! Rei is one tough cookie! Now come on and eat breakfast. I’ll walk with you both to daycare this morning.”
“Rei-kun goes to my daycare too?!”
Rei’s lips twitch—if he were anyone but himself, he’d probably laugh. Kurusu doesn’t have the same reservations and throws his head back in a short cackle. “No, no. He goes to a different daycare—” Kurusu sends a wink his way and helps Miri into her seat “—but Rei-kun will be walking you though and we can’t have him losing his way, can we?”
Miri’s determination spills over, bounces her up and down in her chair. “Don’t worry, Rei-kun, you won’t get lost with us.”
He would argue that he's fairly good at navigation, he only needs written directions, but it’s pointless when the pair sitting across from him have already gotten their minds set on something. Rei resigns himself to a breakfast that’s hectic, filled with mouth noises and scoldings and clinking cutlery.
It feels like in the blink of an eye, Rei is walking on the edge of the sidewalk, teetering almost over the curb when Miri veers too close in her singing and dancing. Mentally, Rei shakes his head. Focus. He can’t let himself lose focus or else he won’t be able to do his job and—
“Here we are!” Kurusu announces with pride.
Rei can only stare at the gate. Well…hopefully muscle memory will serve him well enough to find this place again for pick-up.
The three of them enter through the gates—Miri skipping ahead with excited giggles, Kurusu doing his best to reign her in and eventually wrangling her onto his hip. It doesn’t take long for Rei to feel out of place. Amongst the casual clothes (common folk, as his Boss would refer to them), and bright colors coming in almost every shade, Rei’s black suit stands out immensely. Kurusu leans down to him to whisper, “Quite an impression you’re making.”
Kurusu gestures with his head towards a group of women at the corner of the daycare. All of their eyes, which had previously been honed in on him, swivel to their phones and they begin to type furiously. Rei doesn’t know what he means and gives Kurusu a blank look.
With a roll of his eyes, Kurusu explains. “The moms will like you, probably. You’re like the gruff, handsome men in suits that are also really mysterious they’d watch in dramas. My boyish charm is all for nothing,” Kurusu whines.
Rei can’t tell if he’s being serious or not—he’s leaning towards joking but is saved from having to respond by the approach of a short woman with brown hair and a ponytail. “I don’t think you need to worry, Kazuki-san.”
Her smile is gentle, almost motherly in nature. The small name tag attached to her shirt indicates that she works here, for the giraffe class, and her name is Miss Anna.
Kurusu lets out a long suffering sigh. “You’re right. Once they see he’s all looks and I’m the personality, all will be right!”
‘All looks’ seems like…an exaggeration. Rei has plenty of skills. None of which pertain to looks—there’s a reason he doesn’t go on any honeypot missions.
Miss Anna laughs gently at Kurusu’s antics then her attention turns to Rei. “Who’s this?”
“Ah, this is Rei. Miri’s new babysitter. Rei, this is Miri’s teacher, Miss Anna,” Kurusu introduces.
“Oh, that’s wonderful! It’s nice to meet you, Rei.” Miss Anna turns her polite smile Rei’s way. Rei nods to acknowledge it. He feels the eyes of the group nearby though…he wonders if they will pose a problem at a later date. Maybe he should look into it, just in case.
Miss Anna kneels down in front of Miri, who has been surprisingly quiet in Kurusu’s arms. “Are you excited for your new babysitter, Miri?”
Miri sparks to life at that question, like an animal’s ears perking to attention. It’s a little cute, Rei will admit. “Yes! We’re going to have so much fun while Papa works very hard! He read me a bedtime story last night and he isn’t very good though.”
Traitor.
Miss Anna ignores the frown deepening on Rei’s face, attention solely on Miri. She holds her hands out to take her from Kurusu as she says, “Well, you’ll just have to teach him then, won’t you?”
Miri flops her weight into Miss Anna’s arms and nods firmly. “Yes! He’ll have to learn all sorts of things like directions, cleaning, dancing, smiling—”
The list of Rei’s failings goes on and on, much to the amusement of the other adults within earshot. Miss Anna nods along and peaks over her shoulder to give the two of them a subtle thumbs up. “Do you want to say goodbye before your papa and Rei-kun leave?”
Snapping out of her listing, Miri waves at the two of them enthusiastically. “Bye, Papa! See you later, Rei-kun! Don’t be late, don’t get lost!”
Rei says, “I won’t.”
“Bye-bye!” Kurusu sing-songs, stepping away. Then to the moms in the corner, “Take care of Rei for me tomorrow, ladies!”
The group pauses in their typing for a brief moment before somehow doubling their typing speed. One woman says back, “Oh don’t worry, we will.”
As soon as Kurusu is fully turned away, Rei, after catching up, sees the grin give way to a pout. “They weren’t supposed to agree so enthusiastically.”
“For someone who fits in well with the mothers, you can’t really handle women,” Rei deadpans.
Kurusu slaps his bicep. “Says you! You didn’t so much as wave or smile at any of them.”
“Don’t need to.”
“You know what? I was going to congratulate you on making it through the morning, but now I’m not going to.”
‘Boyish charm’, huh? He must mean the petulance, Rei thinks. If Rei didn’t know he’d make a scene over it, he’d tell Kurusu that outright. Actually. They’re out on the sidewalk now so he could probably tell him.
“Where’s that charm you were talking about?” Rei quips. “You’re acting more like a kid than anything.”
Kurusu pushes him lightly. “I am too charming, thank you very much!”
“You’re not helping your case, Kurusu,” Rei says flatly.
At that, Kurusu’s hand lands on his shoulder. It travels up Rei’s neck, traces the shell of his ear and his cheekbones, then twirling the singular strand hanging over his forehead. Kurusu leans into his line of sight and grins wolfishly. “Call me Kazuki.”
Rei blinks. Kurusu—Kazuki, he guesses—retracts his hand and his smile settles into a smug one. Once he’s recovered from that bout (which, at some point in the confusion he realizes is the most he’s ever been gently touched), he says wryly, “That’s what I meant last night when I said you’re weird.”
“Why you little—”
Their light bickering carries them until they depart to their separate apartments. Rei finds the whole ordeal rather amusing.