Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

          Saburo has a million things he likes to complain about in his head. Well, he usually already has a million things going on in his head to begin with, and he already has a million things he's complained about out loud, but neither of those things can stop the cynic in him from feeling fed up anyway.

          He’s decided long before he had to equip a hypnosis mic, or before he’s even known what one is in the first place—so far back that he has no recollection of when exactly—that this world isn’t the best place, simply put. But the current unease nagging at him in the back of his mind makes him decide that this new era specifically and just about everything it comes with is all sorts of messed up.

          He could be a normal middle-schooler for goodness’ sake. Smart and top of his grade and consistent math olympics champion but ultimately low-profile and insignificant, save for being the youngest of three quirky boys with heterochromia and thematically matching moles on their faces. Maybe he’d get bullied here and there because he doesn’t believe that he’d learn to not be cold and condescending towards worthless people no matter the timeline or universe, but that would be it. He wouldn’t have to worry about his every move being watched or whatever.

          Since this whole Hypnosis-Microphones-Are-A-Thing-Now Thing’s started, Saburo’s had to put up with more attention than he likes or cares for. The celebrity status, fine, he can take, because it’s always been easy for him to fake pleasantries and a polite smile—but the other kind of attention… it’s quite troublesome.

          He’s on his walk home from school and at around halfway into it, Saburo had gotten the feeling that he was being followed. And it was an incessant feeling, lingering, irritating, and not to mention anxiety-inducing, because anyone who fed into the idea that hypnosis mic-wielders are kinda like idols wouldn’t have the social intelligence to keep from bothering just another guy on the street. But if they didn’t have ill intentions, whoever this is tailing him would have tried to chat him up by now. Maybe make some small-talk, ask to pinch his cheeks or for a photo. Even that though annoying would be preferable.

          Then again, Saburo could try to shake it off entirely. He’s told himself to, and he’s made about a dozen detours. But the possibility that it were an enemy coming after him while he’s alone wouldn’t go away, and it’s high enough to make him forego usual idle thoughts he has when he walks home (like the expansion pack of one of the boardgames he’s played with Ichi-nii, maybe with the new add-ons he and Jiro could actually stand a chance) to calculate the fastest way to grab ahold of his hypnosis mic and pick two, four bars he can spit out— just enough to hold them off while he makes a run for it, while he makes sure he can make it home, anything to make it home to his brothers and play that game again— ah damn it.

          Saburo catches himself getting paranoid, hopefully unnecessarily so. He’s about to scold himself for getting carried away and imagining the worst, because this could easily be nothing to get worked up about, but then he feels a tug on his side—someone’s grabbed his wallet cord.

          Saburo only has a third of a second to register the chill he feels shoot up his spine at the fresh conclusion that it’s definitely an enemy, one that recognizes the red leather hung on his uniform trousers and recognizes him as that punk Yamada Ichiro’s little brother, and another third of a second to berate himself for even considering that he could lose to whoever this bastard is that wants to challenge him, because whose little brother does he think he is?! then a last third of a second of swallowing down the startled noise forming in the back of his throat to hurriedly swing his bag off, open it, and reach in.

          In a second, in that same second, Saburo’s equipped his hypnosis mic and summoned his hypnosis speakers. It’s flashy, the way the electronic pixels take form in his hand and behind him following the clear beep of it powering on; yellow rings with his MC name materializing around his fingers, a golden pipe organ materializing behind him and finishing one floating key at a time. Saburo’s guilty of privately playing with his hypnosis mic just so he could marvel at it, but there’s no time for sparkly eyes when he has to spin around now and defend himself.

          But from whom? When Saburo blinks the adrenaline away as his grasp on his mic loosens, he finds that there’s no one there. He immediately takes to complaining again, starts to consider that it was all in his head, everything’s always just in his head—but then he’s startled into completely blanking out by the sound of something loud and high-pitched and oppressive, is this an attack—!?

          Saburo clutches at his mic, but there really is no one there. No one visible anyway, and no one in eye level; when Saburo discerns that he’s taken zero damage, he first gets the idea that maybe it’s an enemy from the supernatural realm, but he immediately shoots it down, shoots it dead. It absolutely can’t be a ghost or anything stupid like that because heaven forbid he admits that Jiro’s right about anything, especially not about his fear of the dark— stupid Jiro, he just can't get it through his skull that some of the living are much more twisted and frightening than the dead— so Saburo listens for the source of the sound and spots movement from below his line of vision.

          He looks down, and standing in front of him now is a child. Looks to be seven or eight in height and in a dress the ugliest shade of pink Saburo’s ever seen. But before Saburo can pick her apart more by her uneven knee socks or her uneven twin-tails, her eyes catch his, and she’s dancing, gushing, applauding, “Wowwww, it’s just like the other kids said!! Hypnosis really is like magic!”

          “Magic…?” Only a literal child, an innocent, naive child would call a weapon meant for fighting like this magic, and Saburo’s defenses come crumbling apart, to a point where any and all sense of danger drains from his system. It’s not an enemy (and definitely, thankfully? not a ghost), so Saburo relaxes; it’s just a little girl.

          Saburo’s relieved, but also annoyed that he wasted all that precious mental energy worrying over nothing. Times like these he really, really wishes he were a regular middle-schooler, because though earlier he’d left school hardly tired from easy classes now he feels all worn out, down to his lungs from all the breath he’s expended. Additionally, he’s just never in the mood to interact with anyone unless he absolutely has to, and he reminds himself, again: it’s just a little girl.

          A smirk’s formed on Saburo’s lips before he knows it, his grip on his mic’s tightened once more as he brings it haughtily to his chest. He narrows his eyes down at her. “Yeah, it’s magic! I’m MC.L.B, a wizard, and I’m going to curse you if you don’t leave my sight right now~.”

          Her response is a giggle— hearty, as in from the bottom of her heart, and it makes Saburo’s stomach twist, because here he was trying to trick her into leaving, but here she is stepping up closer to him not giving a damn if she really gets cursed at this rate. It makes Saburo drop the act once and for all, and when he clicks his mic off and back into its bland starting form before sliding it into his pocket, she starts: “You’re a funny guy, just like Ichiro-niichan! That's Ichiro-niichan’s little brother for you!”

          “You can call me Saburo,” he replies, just out of automatic courtesy. Though at the end of the day he doesn’t mind only being called the little brother. After all, it’s a title he held dearly, which is why he’s willing to settle with this era despite how much he hates it, why he’s decided to learn how to fight as MC Little Brother, because as long as he has his brothers with him the world isn’t too bad. In a recent but rare occasion of peace with Jiro, Saburo’s mused with him that they might even be willing to give up the names they were given by people who’ve long gone, if it equated to being tied to he who matters most to them in the present; they’re perfectly fine being known just as Ichiro-niichan’s— “Wait, wait, wait!” Saburo cuts himself and his thoughts off, glaring down at the girl. “Did you just call Ichi-nii ‘Ichiro-niichan?!!’ Isn’t that too presumptuous of you?! Only Jiro gets to call him that, who do you think you ar—”

          “I’m super glad I found you, Saburo-niichan!” she exclaims happily, blissfully ignorant of the very real, very jealous, very protective venom in Saburo’s voice and paying attention only to Saburo’s wallet cord as she grabs it again, leveraging herself on a hard pull on it when she jumps forward to hug Saburo’s leg.

          “E—” Saburo gulps—“E-E-Ehh????????” The noise of confusion he lets out is frankly embarrassing, but he’s too occupied trying to shake her off from her embrace around his knees to care. She’s clinging onto the cloth of his pants, letting out a bunch of mirthful noises that’s seriously making Saburo sick to his stomach, and he has to resort to thinking out loud so he doesn’t lose his head entirely at the ridiculousness of the situation, even if the way he stutters is equally humiliating: “F-Found me…? Does that mean you were looking for me or…?” Somehow Saburo gets that chill up his spine again— she’s not an enemy nor a ghost but it still creeped him out a moderate amount. “C-C-Can I help you?”

          “Mmhmm!” In the time she took to answer and nod her head, Saburo’s finally managed to pry her off of his leg and regain at least a small bit of his composure, and she’s looking up at him eyes bright as ever even with Saburo’s hand on the top of her head to keep her away. She catches hold of his red wallet cord again and sing-songs, “You seeee, Ichiro-niichan said, when I’m in trouble and I can’t find him, I can ask Jiro-niichan and Saburo-niichan!!”

          “Ichi-nii…” Saburo holds his breath. “Ichi-nii said what?”

          “He saaaaaid,” she continues to sing-song, letting go of Saburo’s wallet cord and freeing her head from his hold to tilt her chin up exaggeratedly, showily, one hand on her hip and the other balled into a fist, chest puffed out and voice lowered when she goes, “Ichiro-niichan, Jiro-niichan, and Saburo-niichan are all here to help you! Yorozuya Yamada’s Buster Bros!!! are Ikebukuro’s strong allies!”

          “—Th... That’s…!!”

          “—A really good impression of Ichiro-niichan, huh~?” she baits, reverting back to her normal, high-pitched intonation, though she’s still posed like a superhero when she giggles, “Heeheehee~”

          “Not really, though??” Saburo half-cringes at her cheekiness when she nods to herself with all the confidence in the world. But... “That’s definitely something Ichi-nii would say…”

          “He did say it!!” she insists with a pout, crossing her arms over her chest. “Believe me!! He helped me before!”

          They stare each other down, Saburo’s head still going a mile a minute until she reaches into the pocket of her dress and brings out a small, red, crumpled piece of paper, handing it to him eagerly. It’s their shop card, and at once Saburo concludes that she wasn’t lying. Not that he could really doubt her, especially with what she said and how she said it, her little impression of Ichiro was proof enough; it was so familiar that if Saburo closed his eyes her voice would have conjured up the image of his eldest brother. Saburo exhales, defeated. “So it’s a job request… Okay, alright.”

          When he moves to hand her back the card, he spots her getting closer all over again, reaching for the mic in his pocket. Saburo plucks the mic out of her hands the second she succeeds getting it, which earns him a whine as if to prove him wrong if he thought her voice couldn’t go any higher, “Ehhhhh, I wanna try hypnosis!”

          “Aha, no you don’t,” Saburo corrects in a quip, gritting his teeth through the irritation and the urge to tell her that hypnosis mics aren’t toys and wielding one isn’t all fun and games. She doesn’t need to hear that. Instead, he unclips his wallet cord from his belt loops and hands it to her to play with along with the shop card. “Count the braids and give me a second while I call my partner.”

          She huffs at that, only eyeing the mic for one more long second before Saburo puts it back in his open bag and she concedes to having no choice. She shoves the shop card back into her pocket before raising the cord to her eyes and beginning to count from the tassled side.

          Similarly, Saburo assents; he has no choice either, since this is a job request; Yorozuya Yamada never backs down until they’ve delivered cheap, fast, sturdy, and high-quality help to their clients, no matter who, no matter what they’re asking. Ichiro’s reputation and personality hasn’t brought their business this far in a mere couple of years only to be ruined by being picky with which jobs they take seriously. All of it, Ichiro’s taught them, plays a role in lifting up Ikebukuro.

          Even then, even if this little girl’s probably just going to ask for help looking for a lost kitten or something, and even if that’s something he can easily do for her because it’s a more common occurrence than anyone would think, a child on his arm for what could be the whole afternoon if worse comes to worst isn’t something Saburo wants to deal with on his own.

          He’s had to learn the hard way that some requests just happen to be two-man jobs, and that unfortunately meant hesitating only slightly to work with Jiro. If it’s for the express purpose of completing a mission for the yorozuya, Saburo can stand being paired up with Jiro. In fact, he might even rely on him. So without further delay, Saburo fishes his phone out of his bag and taps his second speed-dial.

          The receiver opens before the second ring. “Saburo? What’s it.”

          Saburo hears the surprise in Jiro’s voice, since he’s just so easy to read, even from the other end of the line. But he doesn’t think to think ill of him for it, because though they never forget to put each other’s numbers in emergency contacts whenever they have to switch out phones, Saburo going out of his way to call Jiro is as rare as it can get. “There’s a job request.”

          “A job request?” Jiro repeats, both in guessing that, well, some job requests are urgent enough to warrant texts that aren’t just poop emojis out of nowhere, and in confusion, because “I didn’t get a notif.”

          “It’s…” Saburo looks over his shoulder to see the little girl caught up with counting the braids in the leather cord. “A personal one, I guess…”

          “Oh someone dropped by the office? Niichan said he’d be out till late today on that job in some other division… So wait, you home already or what??”

          “Your thoughts are all over the place,” Saburo mutters with a click of his tongue, though he’s satisfied to get a jeer in. The routine of it helps Saburo cope with the absurdity he’s being put through, but it doesn’t make it easier to explain what’s going on. “I’m not home yet, it’s… How do I say this, I ran into someone who needs help?”

          “You’re the one who’s all over the place here…” Jiro mutters back, before he pauses for breath, levels his voice then asks in all seriousness, “Are you safe? Saburo.”

          “Huh?” Saburo groans; now it was concern. Jiro really is too easy to read for his own good. “I’m… okay— but never mind that, can you come or not?”

          “I can, I can,” Jiro answers hastily, sounding like he’s trying to appease Saburo and himself. “Was just about to head out to the arcade with my guys but I’ll go over there ASAP if you really need me.”

          “Then good. I’ll send you my location in a while.”

          “Ayt—”

          “—And…” Saburo’s voice quiets into a half-whisper, half-mumble: “Hurry the hell up while you’re at it.”

          There’s dead air, for a good half-minute. Jiro is turning it over in his head; Saburo wouldn’t ask for his help if he could help it, wouldn’t rush him, wouldn’t let anyone ever get the impression that he’s incapable of anything by himself. So for Saburo’s sake, Jiro decides to make the rest of it quick: “Sheesh, you brat… Be right there.”

          Saburo doesn’t thank Jiro or let him tell him he should. He simply ends the call and sends Jiro his location by GPS, tucking his phone away into his bag and zipping it closed after. Somehow, after that one minute, he’s feeling less like he’s alone, and it’s with renewed resolve that he faces the little girl and engages her. “Have you figured out how many braids there are—?”

          “Hhh—! You made me lose count…!” she squeaks, turning away from him and starting over.

          Saburo stands back. He didn’t think it’d take her something like this to become occupied when just moments ago she’d been adamant about ‘trying hypnosis,’ but he doesn’t say anything more. It’s a child, after all, so it’s a given that she’d have the attention span of one. He sighs to himself, leaning on an electricity pole and crossing his arms. This must look so odd to the few people passing by, two kids (? yeah, they're both kids) just hanging out (? kinda) in the street…

          But at least he’s safe, and at least Jiro’s on his way.

Chapter Text

          It’s a peaceful, uneventful wait, save for the little girl in Saburo’s company making her mind up to count the braids on his wallet cord out loud after she’s lost count a third or fourth time. Saburo’s pushed himself off the pole he was leaning on and uncrossed his arms to peek over her shoulder at her work, to see how hard she’s trying. Saburo knows from times he’s gotten bored waiting around for Jiro, too, that there’s exactly thirty-two braids in that wallet cord. He can simply tell her that, to end her misery, but he also feels her determination—she’d probably hate him for the rest of her life if he told her now, so he holds off.

          When Saburo starts to straighten up and retake his place by the pole where he’s certain Jiro would be able to see him when he arrives, he hears a holler from behind him, loud and deafening: “Saburooooo!”

          The little girl lets out a yelp because she lost count yet again, and when she whips around to yell at whoever was yelling and distracted her, she drops the wallet cord in surprise. Saburo’s whipped around now, too, just as surprised, because ahead of them is Jiro sprinting, mic in his hand and his garage band-style hypnosis speakers following right behind him.

          Saburo and the little girl are both wide-eyed at the scene, but for different reasons— she’s, of course, ecstatic to be seeing more ‘magic,’ but Saburo could hardly be as happy. It looks stupid as hell, and Saburo has no qualms screaming at Jiro for it: “The heck do you have your hypnosis mic equipped for, dumbass—?!”

          “—You’re okay—!” Jiro pants, switching his mic off as he approaches, “Thank fuckin’ god—”

          “I told you I was okay!” Saburo shoots back indignantly, watching as Jiro’s speakers disappear, one guitar, one drum cymbal at a time, the blue of his mic fading back to gray in pixels. Saburo is so so tempted to talk him down for having assumed the worst, whatever he imagined that’s caused him to be panicking the way he is, because Saburo can bet a couple million crypto-yen that Jiro’s had his mic on and has been running around Ikebukuro with his speakers just out in the open this entire time. And despite how Jiro usually acts, he actually doesn’t like drawing unnecessary attention to himself, either— take note of that qualifier, though, unnecessary, because even if admittedly he has a loud mouth, he runs it only for the sake of pride, more often his brothers’ than his own, and if people wanna look, if people wanna fight him for it, then they could be his guest.

          Jiro’s just that transparent; Saburo has years upon years of experience with Jiro being like this but he never fails to outdo his own ridiculousness, and it gives Saburo the perfect excuse to up and call him out every time. But before he can raise his voice again, he’s interrupted by claps from beside him, a shrill cheer, “That was amazing!!”

          Saburo’d forgotten she was there. He’d forgotten his circumstance at the sight of Jiro being his usual stupid, earnest self, and though her voice is up another octave and irritating the life out of Saburo, he counts it as his saving grace. He’s pretty sure Jiro wouldn’t actually be able to tell that he were being a hypocrite if he did eventually scold him for thinking too hard, but just earlier he’d also equipped his mic expecting the worst, and she saw him scramble to defend himself in a panic. Saburo doesn’t like having anything in common with Jiro besides their genes and affection for Ichiro, but this bad habit of defaulting to worst case scenario seems to be something they’ve both developed.

          There’s not really a crime to a habit like this. When you expect the worst and get something just bad at best, it makes the relief all the more… relieving. Saburo’s sure they can both vividly recall a time when, upon receiving two urgent requests and the possibility of being unable to record anime at Ichi-nii’s request, their first thought was that they’d absolutely get killed… In the end, Ichiro had sooner hit their giddy little heads for fighting over who finished first, had sooner told them he was proud of them for faithfully completing their Yorozuya missions regardless, than he had sulked about missing that episode.

          That anime’s finished airing some time ago and has come out with blu-rays, and there was no rush to get to this job and get it done, yet Jiro is hunched over with his hands on his knees after putting his mic away in his pocket, eyes shut as he catches his breath from the rush. It only takes him a while to, lungs used to sports and parkour and other things that involve moving his whole body, and when his eyes open they meet wide, bright, golden ones.

          They’re filled with excitement and wonder, and it’s familiar to Jiro, almost nostalgic, from when Saburo was little and cute and nice and had Jiro share in everything he thought was exciting. Except this isn’t Saburo he’s looking at— Saburo could clip his hair if he tried but not tie it into twin-tails, and his favorite color has always been yellow, like that crayon he drew stars everywhere with, and the beak of his penguin plushies, not this weird shade of pink. And, Saburo’s long since outgrown looking at Jiro with fond eyes like these.

          It stings, like it always does when Jiro thinks back to those times, but it’s easily curbed by the realization of what he’s actually looking at at the moment, who, it’s just little girl—? “Oi, Saburo.” Now his eyes dart up to Saburo then back down to the girl, then to Saburo, then to the girl, then with finality he fixes Saburo with a glare: “You called me because you need my help handling a little girl?”

          “Sh-Sh-Shut up!” Saburo starts back at his accusation, “Even you don’t know how to handle girls—!”

          “—That’s different!” Jiro spits, moving to grab Saburo’s collar, to bark at him for dissing him over this kind of thing, of all things, when Saburo was the one who rang him up and made him worry and drop everything to come here for him. He’s gonna demand his feelings back from Saburo, he’ll beat it out of him if he has to—

          —But Saburo evades Jiro’s attack, twisting away and running off a good meter from him. Any other time, he’d have taken it, because it’s the natural course of things after he’s successfully goaded Jiro into bickering with him, but, they’ve been told off before for fighting in the presence of a client. And even if it weren’t because of a client, they should at least have the decency to hold off on the violence in front of a child, so Saburo confronts Jiro squarely to warn him, “Not in front of her, stupid Jiro!”

          Jiro’s quick to come to his senses at that and he quits pursuing Saburo immediately, just as though he’d personally been held back by their eldest brother. There’s established principles to this, see, and Jiro’s loyal to them like he is to Ichiro. Jiro settles for making a mental note, though he’s not sure if it’ll stick, to beat Saburo’s ass later when they get home. There are more pressing matters, and right now it’s the little girl holding her little laughs in with a little palm. Jiro spares her a glance before questioning Saburo, who’s smoothing his uniform out from the non-fight. “‘Kay, so what’s our client’s name?”

          Saburo’s face drains of color, the way it does when he realizes he’s made some crucial mistake. But then he gets defensive, the way he does when it’s not Ichi-nii and he has no reason to lower his head. “I felt like there was no need ask. She had a shop card which was obviously from Ichi-nii, so I didn’t bother with the details of it, I just know she’s not tricking us or anything so that’s good enough, isn’t it…?!”

          “Huuh?” Jiro scratches the back of his head; Saburo’s logic is too much for him to get. ‘Tricking them,’ was it? While that’s something that’s happened more often than necessary or they liked, the little girl didn’t look like she’d come to them for help on anyone else’s accord but her own. Besides, the only people who approach Saburo are people who haven’t caught onto the fact that he’s rotten to the core. That aside, Jiro supposes that it’s just like Saburo to add concrete proof that she wasn’t just being manipulated by some worthless bunch of guys, and that saves them the trouble of walking right into a trap by accepting nevertheless. This way they can focus on actually helping someone who’s in serious need, so Jiro just takes it without pressing Saburo any more. He bends his legs and crouches down to be in eye level with her, introducing himself, “Heya, I’m Jiro. You can call me—”

          “—Jiro-niichan!” she giggles.

          Jiro chuckles, “Sure, if you wanna.What about you, what’s your name?”

          She tilts her head at him, an obvious attempt at looking adorable, which Jiro has to admit is working because he’s not feeling any pressure at all, especially not when she cheerfully introduces herself in kind, “My name’s Mina!”

          “Ayt.” He catches sight of Saburo’s wallet cord by her feet and picks it up while asking her, “How can we help you, Mina-chan—”

          “—How rude!!” Mina cuts in with a huff, “Even Ichiro-niichan called me Mina-san! I’m a young lady, FYI!” She also snatches the wallet cord from Jiro’s hands, nose still upturned at him. “And I’m not done with that! Saburo-niichan asked me to count the braids!”

          “Ah sorry??” Jiro apologizes for if he’s really offended her, because he’s used to this, he’s used to having to be on his toes around girls. But he didn’t think a child would be this pressed about it, does Jiro just hopelessly not know how to act? Could Saburo have been right? The idea that Saburo’s right—even if he always is— gives rise to a special kind of irritation in Jiro and with it comes the belated comprehension of everything else she’d said: “Wait, wait, wait! Did you just say ‘Ichiro-niichan?!’ Only I get to call him that!”

          When Jiro jolts upward and takes a fighting stance, one that Saburo recognizes all too well, he jumps forward and grabs him by the shoulder, jerking him back before he could pick a fight over this. “She’s a client, Jiro,” Saburo reminds him. But he doesn’t mention that he’d had almost the exact same reaction earlier to her presumptuousness; he can’t be an idiot like Jiro.

          Jiro takes a deep breath with the weight of Saburo’s hand on his shoulder and lets it out as he shrugs him off. He understands. Niichan’s so kindhearted that everyone’s opened up to him; he’s practically all of Ikebukuro’s big brother now, and Jiro can’t fault others for that. And again with principles with clients, there’s no point resisting. “Fine.” He bends back down, smile perfectly back in place as he reaches out to her. “Mina-san, how can me and Saburo-niichan help you today?”

          “W-Well, the truth is…” Mina looks off, away from Jiro and Saburo. Still holding onto the wallet cord, she touches the tips of her pointer fingers, and Saburo notes that this is the first time since he encountered her that she looks any semblance of shy.

          Saburo wonders if Jiro just has that kind of effect on people, because even he gets caught off guard by the guy’s candidness every now and then. Sometimes Jiro is just so earnest it’s unreal, except it’s 100% real and natural because past his delinquent exterior, past how rough he looks having run all the way here, sweaty with his hair and uniform all messed up—give him a metal bat and a skateboard instead of his hypnosis mic and he’s all set to look like he’s here to terrorize Ikebukuro territory instead of protect it—and past how ready to fight he got just now over something touchy for him, Jiro has a heart of gold.

          He surely gets it from Ichiro. Jiro, scary-looking and brutal when he decides it’s time to fight for his right to pride, is tilting his head and humming to prompt a little girl into confessing what’s troubling her. “Hmm? You can tell me and Saburo-niichan. Did you lose your kitten?”

          “I…” Mina swallows, as if to muster every bit of courage she can, as if what she’s about to ask is ridiculous despite having been glad that the two were here, and despite having been forward at the onset. Saburo thinks she should just come out with it already, because even Jiro could guess that what she needed help for was something simple like that and there’s no need to be ashamed or whatever, they get requests like these all the time— “I’m the lost kitten.”

          “What did you just say.”

          “—Shut it,” Jiro hisses, maintaining the sweetness in his tone even as he throws an elbow back to hit Saburo’s knee for good measure, “Saburo-niichan.”

          “Hey!” Saburo protests, but that’s as far as he goes in retaliation. Sure, what she’d just said made no sense to him, but for a reaction as rude like that to a client he deserved it. He’s rubbing at his knee, only now after a third time Jiro’s said it realizing how strange it felt to be called ‘Saburo-niichan.’ While he’s been around kids younger than him at some other, distant point in his life, there’s a comfort to being the last-born among his brothers.

          Jiro shoots Saburo one last look, wondering what he’s thinking about now because, uncharacteristically, he’s doesn’t look attentive. He returns all his attention to Mina, nodding understandingly at what she’d said. “So you’re a little lost, ‘s that it?”

          Mina nods back slowly, continuing, “I’m not from around here and they said to me that I don’t have to stay long so I never learned my way around…” Her cheeks are burning now.

          Saburo recalls her impression of Ichi-nii from much earlier— they really were Ichi-nii’s words, that they’re trustworthy and close to Ikebukuro through their service; it’s a title of trust and closeness, isn’t it? ‘Niichan.’  When Saburo puts it this way, being called Saburo-niichan isn’t too odd. And though this time Saburo thinks better of commenting out loud thanks to the bit of ache he’s not able to rub away, he thinks of the last thing Mina’s said. The contrast of her earlier cheekiness and her current coyness makes Saburo conclude it’s strange.

          It seemed vague, too, by the way she had worded it. ‘Not from around here,’ ‘don’t have to stay long’…? Saburo goes through the possibilities in his head: Is she on vacation here with someone then? Then, he complains in his head, as a reflex: Where’s her parents? How irresponsible... Ikebukuro being a small Division doesn’t mean that it’s safe. Saburo flashbacks to just earlier when he was worried about getting attacked by an enemy, and loathes that the worst of the worst, the most worthless of the worthless, even go after children for kicks these days, but that’s not really this era’s fault. People have been rotten for hundreds and thousands of years.

          Saburo’s internal, cynical monologue is cut short by Jiro getting up gruffly: “Alright! We’ll be your escorts!” Saburo finds a new thing to complain about instantly, which is Jiro’s enthusiasm, because he has no idea just where idiots get all their energy. But then Saburo seals his lips, seeing Ichiro in the way Jiro grins and assures her, “Then how about we show you around Ikebukuro too while we try to find where your place is?” Jiro looks to be proud of himself, too, for emulating Ichiro. “Your hand, Mina-san?”

          Mina sees differently. “Ichiro-niichan carried me all the way home!” It seems that now that Mina’s gotten some reassurance, she’s easily back to her cheeky self, because she can afford to cross her arms and pout. While the annoyance creeps back into Saburo’s system, Jiro simply asks,

          “Carried? Niichan carried you?” And it wasn’t a question of if Ichiro really did it if he heard her right— such a thing isn’t even a chore for someone as strong as him, and Jiro knew that in his gut. He just wanted her to go on, which she does:

          “Yup, all the way home!” she repeats, stretching her arms out, demanding.

          Jiro looks to his side and meets Saburo’s eyes for a split second, coming to an unspoken, mutual agreement that though what she’s asking is nothing short of outrageous, there’s no way they’re going to say no. But there’s also no way that Saburo’s gonna do it, and before they consider debating it in case Saburo offered, Jiro’s already taken it upon himself. He slides his school bag off and tosses it to Saburo, leaving him to awkwardly catch it while he turns to Mina.

          It’s quick and painless and effortless, when Jiro takes Mina by the waist and hoists her up to seat her on his shoulders, stable and balanced as soon as Jiro cups her knees in his hands—but Mina whines all the same: “Ichiro-niichan princess-carried me! Plus, he knew where to go right away! Do better, Jiro-niichan!”

          There’s an unnameable discomfort Saburo feels rising his chest at the sight of it, and he gets an overwhelming, childish urge to pull her hair for clinging to Jiro and having the gall to complain that he wasn’t doing enough when he’s clearly doing the most catering to her whims when a request like hers shouldn’t even warrant this much dedication. Saburo’s about to drop Jiro’s bag and his, ready to come forward and be the one to carry her if she’s not gonna stop yapping anyway—he’s not that strong but he can manage this much, maybe—but Jiro only secures his hold and insists:

          “This is better tho! This way you can see Ikebukuro nicely, our city is pretty heckin’ awesome, y’know!” While he exclaimed this he’d done a slow spin as if to emphasize his point, only looking up once to make sure Mina didn’t get dizzy from that before looking to Saburo for his cooperation, “Right, Saburo-niichan~?”

          Jiro’s just too damn nice. Even if it’s for Yorozuya Yamada, isn’t he enjoying himself far too much for someone who only has to play along? Saburo rolls his eyes at Jiro and takes to properly wearing his bag on his chest. He gets the feeling he looks silly wearing two school bags, but he can’t look any sillier than Jiro with all that hideous pink on his shoulders.

Chapter Text

          “Hm, but where to start…” Jiro mumbles, surveying the area they’re in. He had tunnel-visioned at Saburo’s pin on the map app as soon as it popped up on his side without really paying attention to anything else, but now that Saburo’s safe and sound by his side he can afford to pay attention to other things, and he notices that they’re in a part of town they cross less often. “Saburo.”

          “What do you want?” Saburo clicks his tongue, making a show of his irritation from having to adjust to the extra weight of Jiro’s bag.

          Jiro chuckles before straightening up and pointing right at him, ordering enthusiastically: “Lead the way!”

          “Huh?! Can’t you find your way around on your own? This is why you’re a—” Saburo cuts himself off with a sigh and a roll of his eyes. “What am I saying. Of course you wouldn’t know where we are.”

          “Yeah, who’s fault is that?” Jiro returns; truth be told, it’s less that he doesn’t know where they are than that he’s stuck wondering how they’ll move after he’d gone and decided on the fly that they would. But instead of thinking that over out loud or pushing the argument, all he does is sigh back because the job is calling.  “Just do it, your hands are free.”

          “Barely…” Saburo heaves a louder sigh but awkwardly moves with the bags on him to bring his phone out anyway, because yes he can do this much. “We’re in the East.”

          Jiro raises his eyebrows at him. “What on earth were you doing all the way out here right after school?”

          “That’s…” Saburo purses his lips and brings his phone to his face to cover it. He still doesn’t want to admit that he’d been scared of getting confronted and so went far, far astray from his usual walk home on purpose. “None of your business. Anyway—” Saburo swallows, switching his focus to the electronic map, zooming out and swiping around to change the topic. “I think it’s best we start at Sunshine City then work our way back to the West. I’ve picked the best route to go along and show her a few landmarks in Ikebukuro, since you so badly wanna show off. As for where she’s staying, we’re bound to figure it out along the way.”

          “That was quick…” Jiro comments quietly, plain and forthright, “You’re good at this kind of thing after all.”

          Saburo throws aside how impressed Jiro sounded by shaking his head, default condescending. “Even an idiot like you can use GPS, isn’t that how you got here?”

          “Wasn’t really thinking about it then," Jiro admits before adding the cheer back into his voice: “But anyway! As expected of Saburo-niichan!” Jiro jerks, a half jump to get Mina’s attention: “You hear that, Mina-san?” But when she doesn’t respond, Jiro looks up only to see her still caught up trying to count the braids of Saburo’s wallet cord. Jiro lets out a playful tsk— so that’s why she’s been quiet; then again no one would really dare to get in between him and Saburo while they’re bickering except for Ichi-nii— and steals the leather from her in one fluid motion. “Thirty-two, there’s thirty-two braids. Mystery solved!”

          Saburo tries to take the cord to clip back onto his pants with his free hand, but Jiro swings it out of his and Mina’s reach alike. Saburo’s left to drown out her whining about how that wasn’t fair because she was ‘just about to get it, dummy Jiro-niichan!’ to smother that unpleasant feeling in his chest again, in favor of letting himself wonder how Jiro could know that there are thirty-two braids in it. Saburo’s made sure, mostly out of spite and bragging rights, that Jiro could never lay a finger on his wallet cord since Ichiro passed it down to him. That leaves the idea that Jiro must’ve been observing it somehow for a while now and it makes Saburo shake his head to himself, because what’s he straining his two brain cells so hard for, that weirdo… Jiro’s always thinking about worthless things, jeez.

          Saburo feels around for a new insult to throw at him, but as soon as he manages to take the cord Jiro ignores him and is addressing Mina again in an attempt to appease her and convince her, “This is so you can focus on everything we’re about to show you! Saburo-niichan’s figured everything out and he’s gonna tour us around Ikebukuro!”

          “Huh?! Who said I would?!”

          “Pull your weight, you!” Jiro stomps a foot before switching to a stage-whisper: “This is a mission for both of us now! You can do it, right?”

          “I—” Right. He was the one who dragged Jiro into this… mess, and he’s ended up leaving him to deal with the brunt of it. He’d hate if Jiro told Ichi-nii about all of this and he hadn’t done the least he could do, even worse if Mina runs into Ichi-nii again and sings only Jiro praises. Saburo takes a deep breath. “I’ll do it.”

          “Alright!” Jiro turns around and starts marching off, calling to Mina, “You ready?”

          “Aye aye, Jiro-niichan! Saburo-niichan!” she calls back happily.

          The smile that creeps up on Saburo’s face is weak and exasperated but he still forces it away, opting for grabbing the back of Jiro’s jacket instead of his shoulder because Mina’s made herself comfortable there, correcting them both: “We’re going the other way.”

          “I knew that,” Jiro huffs, and Mina laughs out loud, grabbing onto Jiro’s hair as he spins on a heel to follow Saburo’s direction. Her hands rest on his head to play with his hair for the rest of the time they’re together.

          It’s a fast walk fueled by trace embarrassment on Jiro’s part, and once they’ve cleared the street, Saburo steps up to be their guide as promised. He slowly leads them ways away from the quieter part of the area, passing by a park to where tall buildings stood and rose, seemingly towering over East Ikebukuro.

          Whether Saburo makes a conscious effort of it or not, his voice changes intonation and his speech turns polite, host-like even, like when he’s in their makeshift radio booth with his brothers, in charge of delivering the best of mornings to Ikebukuro when he speaks up, “This here behind us is Sunshine City. It’s got everything within immediate vicinity of one another, a shopping center, a museum, an observatory, a planetarium, even an aquarium, lots and lots to do! It’s well-known as one of the hallmarks of Ikebukuro, by both locals from all over Japan and tourists from overseas!”

          “You sound like you’ve studied this…” Jiro comments, trailing off to trail behind Saburo as he strolls around the general area and points at striking bits of the attractions. “…Right, Mina-san?” Jiro prompts after a while, unable to shake off his observation still. “He sounds like a tourism ambassador or something, that Saburo-niichan…”

          “No unnecessary comments please!” Saburo claps his hands exactly twice, coming to a temporary stop in front of the aquarium. “It’s natural to extensively know about the city we live in and love! I recommend you read up on these things too, Jiro-niichan.” With that they carry on strolling, away from the buildings, and Saburo is mindfully apologizing that they’re sadly only passing by and won’t be going inside any of their destinations; though it’s not like Jiro or Mina were expecting a full-on field trip anyway. Saburo just happened to get so into his role.

          As Jiro watches Saburo’s back and tunes out his introduction of the many main roads expanding ahead of them when they close in on a crossing, he prompts Mina again: “Mina-san, wanna hear a story?”

          “Mm!” she hums, kneading her little hands into the soft of his hair.

          “When me and my bros were really little we went there one time, and Saburo loved the penguins at the aquarium so much. He cried because he really wanted a plushie, but when we finally got him one he still wouldn’t stop crying because he was so happy.”

          “Hey—” Saburo breaks tourism-ambassador character, halting and waiting for Jiro to come to his side. Once he does, he elbows him, but not harshly enough lest he move too abruptly and throw Mina off. Still, he mutters angrily,  “What kind of nonsense are you telling her?! And don’t go making up stories again, stupid Ji—!”

          “Ah, but it’s true~” Jiro answers dreamily, letting go of Mina’s legs for a second to try to pinch Saburo’s cheeks. “You were so cute back then!”

          This is an argument they’ve had several times before, but not one Saburo wants to keep having, because the more they dwell on it the less Saburo feels like he can keep pretending he doesn’t remember. There was no point dwelling on times they can’t go back to, and no point in arguing about this with Jiro who doesn’t know when to give up. So he slaps Jiro’s hands away before they even touch his face, pulls his smile back on, and with all the politeness he can muster he changes the topic: “Kindly shut your trap, Jiro-niichan. We’re moving on.”

          Jiro withdraws his hands and places them on Mina’s knees again. “Saburo-niichan’s a bit of a tsundere, can you tell?” When Mina agrees with an enthusiastic 'Mm!', Jiro cranes his neck to look up at her and pinch one of her cheeks, just to curb the urge. The noise of mirth she makes makes Jiro’s stomach twist, too.

          After crossing and maneuvering around a few corners, Saburo readies his explanation by clearing his voice and lifting an arm to refer to their new area. “We’re now in Toshima-ku, Tokyo, also dubbed recently and more commonly known as Otome Road! This is more Ichiro-niichan and Jiro-niichan’s turf, but I guess I don’t mind doing some talking about it.” He gestures towards huge building, and carries on, “Down the street you’ll find Animate’s flagship store, nine floors of nothing but otaku goods— Ichi-nii had once called this heaven! There’s also many stores for secondhand lots for less popular and older series; Ichi-nii has exquisite taste so we’re often hunting down quality merchandise for those as well.”

          “That’s right!” Jiro affirms overly excitedly, pumping a fist in the air, faithfully securing his hold on Mina when she squeals from surprise at the movement. “When you’re out of luck, you’ve got a good chance of finding me or Niichan over here during our free time!”

          “It’s as Jiro-niichan said.” Saburo nods, though he crosses his arms. His brothers can be crazy about it sometimes, but at the end of the day Saburo doesn’t think it’s bad to let them have hobbies they can invest and immerse themselves in. Ichiro, especially, with all the work he does. Actually, now that Saburo can feel the weight of Jiro’s unread modules on his chest, under his awkwardly crossed arms, Saburo thinks Jiro ought to pick up his actual school books instead of a new manga every week, but Ichiro’s recommendations are golden and irrefutably noteworthy so he can’t blame him entirely. Saburo uncrosses his arms at the end of that thought and the start of another: “By the way, Mina-san, now that Jiro-niichan mentions it. If you’re lost wouldn’t it have been faster to go to a police box? There’s many of them in the area. Why did you think of looking for us first?”

          Jiro winces when Mina’s grip on his hair tightens, but waits for her answer patiently as they pace down the street past stores Jiro would otherwise be keen and itching to enter. When her grip finally relaxes, she’s mumbling, “I don’t know…”

          Saburo raises an eyebrow. “You even had the number on the shop card. I mean I know Ichi-nii’s out right now but he would have forwarded your request to us properly if you used a telephone booth, there’s many of those in the area too. So what do you mean you don’t—”

          “—Well, that’s perfectly fine. It’s fine not to know,” Jiro muses, tone so casual Saburo almost doesn’t feel like he’s just been interrupted. “Sometimes it just be like that.”

          That latter part of it pisses Saburo off, though. “What are you talking about now, Jiro—?”

          “I’m an idiot so don’t ask me,” Jiro answers, swaying his head now as he walks to encourage Mina to keep holding on to him while he goes off at Saburo. “Besides, you’re the one who always gets stuck with the lost kitten jobs, right? You should know better than me, how lost kittens behave or something.”

          Saburo’s broken character again. Now he’s growing silent. What’s Jiro getting at? Obviously, lost kittens don’t go to police boxes or telephone booths—they hardly ever even know that they’re lost. They just wander out as far as their feet and keep can take them, then go ways around not finding any certain way back home but they make it, they always make it eventually.

          This isn’t a case of a lost cat, and though they've already accepted the job Saburo still questions why they have to be the ones to take care of it. Saburo’s looked for countless cats and brought them back to their rightful owners—they’re usually quiet and compliant once they’re caught, once they’re held properly, not like Mina.

          But any time those kittens have gotten lost again, Saburo’s found them before they’re sent the follow-up request, because lost cats are more likely to approach those who’ve helped them before, if it’s feeding them some scraps or getting them down from a high place or helping them find their way home. And that’s… kind of like Mina, isn’t it?

          Saburo and Jiro are a unit with Ichiro, not only by their Yorozuya, not even by their rap crew. They’re a unit by blood, and when Ichiro had promised that Ikebukuro could count on all three of them as their strong allies, that’s what he meant. When he helped Mina out, he’d promised her that if she ever got lost again she could come to his brothers instead. Saburo blinks at that epiphany; now it makes just a tad bit more sense…

          By the time Saburo comes back to his senses, partly satisfied with the conclusion he’s reached, he finds that Jiro’s taken a turn at leading them to their next and last destination. He’s lifted Mina off of his shoulders and is currently setting her down right by the sign. “We made it to West Gate Park! This is the best place in Ikebukuro!”

          Saburo can try to pick up where he left off now. Try to explain that yes, this place is objectively one of the most significant landmarks in Ikebukuro, because it’s become historical in popular culture with its wide and artistic landscape, perfect for several open-air events open to the community, the fountain providing a lively greeting to people coming from the station as if to boast Ikebukuro’s vitality. But Jiro disregards all of that, disregards that Saburo was opening his mouth to say all that, to chalk it up to something else entirely:

          “This is where me and my bros hang out and rap when it’s downtime! It’s the absolute best feeling in the whole world when people come on over and celebrate something only the three of us can create together!”

          It’s… almost poetic, what Jiro had just spewed, and Saburo would make a jab at him for using big words, if his eyes weren’t sparkling, and if Mina’s weren't sparkling just like his, if she weren’t hanging on to every word he’s saying.

          “Well?!” Jiro demands with the biggest grin on his face, looking straight at Mina: “What do you think of Ikebukuro now, Mina-chan!!”

          She runs a curious circle around Jiro, taking it all in before slowing to a skip so Jiro can hear her when she says, “It’s great! Ichiro-niichan took me here the last time, too! I think I can remember how to get home from here, but…” She suddenly stops skipping and her hands come up to her chest, almost automatically, to touch her fingers together again.

          Jiro takes only a second to understand her and answers her before she asks, “Of course, we’ll escort you till the very end!” When Jiro picks her up and places her on his shoulders again, she very readily sheds her short-lived shyness and points in a general direction away from the park, and Jiro very readily jogs at her command, as if she were a compass.

          A faulty compass, really… They make a few misturns here and there, but none too time-consuming to back up at and try again. In no time, they’ve marched deep into a residential maze, and Saburo nonchalantly tails behind them because they both seem to already know where they’re going. At their latest fork, she grabs Jiro’s hair and steers him in the direction of the narrowest street. “This one, it’s at the end of this one!”

          Jiro nods dutifully, but out of the corner of his eye he catches Saburo hesitate.

          Saburo watches Jiro stalk off into the street, and out of nowhere, or from somewhere deep, deep down within him, he feels overwhelmingly compelled to hold Jiro’s hand, call for him and beg him to wait up if he gets too far. But they’re childish instincts, ones that Saburo’s trained himself to suppress, so he jogs after them without a word, without a breath.

          Saburo simply keeps his eyes to the ground, watching Jiro’s feet because Jiro’s bag is in the way and preventing him from looking at his own like he usually does. He’s doing so out of trust in a gut feeling he’s getting not to lift his eyes. It’s that discomfort again, that anxiety. He’s being watched, he isn’t safe. It’s this era, it’s this world— “There, there, we’re here!”

          Saburo nearly runs into Jiro as Mina starts to clamber off of him, and acting upon a sense of duty to not keep his eyes off of Mina till she’s safely down on the ground while Jiro fights to stay still, Saburo catches sight of everything around her. Memories he’s trained himself to repress come rushing in and, and—

          “—I’m a new kid at this orphanage, you see~” she says, matter-of-fact, smoothing her skirt out with her palms. “I blew in all the way from another division some weeks ago!”

          “I see.” Jiro is slow many other times, but not today. He had guessed so the moment she said she wasn’t from around here and didn’t need to stay—it’s what everyone tells kids when they first come to an orphanage. Ichiro must have remembered too, which is why he knew immediately where to go when he met her. When Jiro smiles down at her there’s no hint of anything else but genuine relief, because she’ll be secure here now. “I’m glad.”

          “Thank you for helping me!” She bows, low and humble and sincere before she jumps right back up, beaming from ear to ear. “I knew I could count on Buster Bros!!! I hope I can see your magic again, Jiro-niichan! Saburo-niichan!”

          “Mm, hope so too. Like Ichiro-niichan said, call us anytime, ‘kay!” Jiro doesn’t resist when Mina runs to hug his legs for the reassurance, for good measure. Jiro greets it with a pat on her head then on her back when she spins around and sprints off. “…That’s our cue to take our leave, too, Saburo.”

          Jiro waits but a response doesn’t come, and when he tears his gaze away from the door Mina is disappearing through, he looks to Saburo just in time to catch his bag sliding off his shoulders. He rushes to grab it but lets it fall to the ground unceremoniously, because when he looks up he finds Saburo’s eyes wavering, unfocused on anything. And it’s impulsive, the motion— he grabs Saburo’s hand instead, and instantly Saburo’s eyes seem to clear.

          Jiro hasn’t repressed his memories. He could tell that they were in their neighborhood from a few years ago, even though it’s clearly changed. The entire thing was refurbished, facility and staff and all, after… a certain (traumatic) incident, but the air is the same and it’s suffocating, it was suffocating Saburo. Jiro also doesn’t suppress his instincts, and when he wrapped his hand around Saburo’s it was to afford him the same reassurance he’d given Mina just now— he’s here, he’ll always be here.

          Saburo’s made fun of and fought him for wearing his heart on his sleeve an infinite number of times, and even now when he opens his mouth Jiro knows to expect him to try to cover up his feelings, cover up the fact that he was about to cry over the unfairness of it all by spitting out something he couldn’t mean if he tried, because all he ever wanted was to be a normal middle-schooler— but Jiro beats him to it, grounding him from the universe of complaints unfurling in his head and reminding him that he’s stuck with his brothers, a whole-ass idiot included: “What, want Jirotan to carry you home, too? I don’t mind, I don’t mind—”

          “—A-As if! Don’t make me laugh!” Saburo spits indignantly, but he doesn’t let go of Jiro’s hand.

          Jiro can’t imagine Saburo’s noticed. He only shrugs, picking his bag up easily since he usually only wears it around one shoulder anyway. Never mind that every second they stayed longer in this place, Saburo tightened his grip on his hand. Never mind that Saburo didn’t want to say anything lest he got all choked up. Or remember anything lest he break down. Jiro takes the lead out and it’s a fast, silent walk, and in a conscious effort to help keep Saburo out of his own thoughts he doesn’t hold back saying something ridiculous that he knows will put him off: “Speaking of Mina, don’t you think it’s funny?”

          “What is?” When Saburo turns to look at Jiro, his eyes are downcast— following his gaze he finds their hands still linked and he snatches his hand from Jiro’s grip.

          “That her name’s Mina,” Jiro presses, watching Saburo's fingers catch on his wallet cord to hold onto in place of his hand. “Since her name’s Mina, it feels like helping her’s helping everyone or something like that.”

          “Aren’t you thinking too hard?”

          Jiro welcomes the irritation in the way Saburo looks at him and continues haughtily: “Pretty sure she uses a different kanji but it also feels like everyone’s come to us for help…! Ah, well. That’s how it oughta be. It’s our city now, right, Saburo? All that matters’s that we’re here.”

          “Right…” Saburo reflects—complains?— like he has so many times. But the only reason he grants himself the right to complain is because he’s dealt with it regardless. He’s come to terms with it. He has his brothers and he has this city; they’re here, and they’re here together. It’s all he has, and it’s fine, because it’s all that matters. Right. In a rare fit of courage he turns to Jiro and acknowledges him, “You’re right… Jiro-nii—”

          “Ah—” Jiro cuts in, blissfully unaware, “Saburo. We forgot something suuuper important.”

          “Huh, what?! Why didn’t you say anything earlier!!”

          Jiro can’t help but laugh at Saburo’s reaction, the way he tensed up, the way his face drained of color again; that was payback for making him worry earlier. Looks like he won’t have to beat his ass later, he’s been through enough today— any time Saburo has to have his hand held is enough. Saburo’s just a kid, and Saburo’s his little brother, after all, and Jiro calms him down with his earnestness: “Good job to us for successfully bringin’ a lost kitten home! What do we say?”

          “Ah, that…” Saburo relaxes, though in reality he wouldn’t forgive himself if he forgot it either. It’s an integral part of their jobs, and Yorozuya Yamada’s boss Yamada Ichiro’s been strict about it: if you don’t say it, it doesn’t count. And this counts for so much, this entire experience… because even he was a lost kitten before. Saburo’s relieved that it ended up working out, in the end. He’s relieved to find Jiro by his side, counting to three under his breath so they can say it together, and they do, reaching out for a high-five:

          “Mission Complete!”