Archive of Our Own

Burying her son was the worst thing Miyako Momota ever had to do.

Nobody prepares you for outliving your own child. It’s something that’s just not supposed to happen. Like snow in summer or a nightmare in the day. When she held her darling boy in her arms for the first time, tired but elated, no one pulled her aside and told her to mentally prepare for his death. She just smiled and hugged him close, running her hand over his head as she hummed the same lullaby her mother had sung to coax her to sleep.

Seven years after his death, she still wished someone did. Wished someone told her to cherish every moment. Told her to take a picture of every smile and write down every story. She’d never been a particularly tech-savvy person. Her phone was taken out for calls and the occasional text and that was about it. She treasured the moment from within the moment, and if the details got lost to time, well that was just the fickle nature of human memory. But when there’s no more memories to make, suddenly those pictures become far more vital. And as she flipped through the family photobook in the middle of the night she found herself having to contend with the fact that there were only so many photos of her son. Only so many smiles to look back on. Only so many moments to remember.

Miyako took the death badly. Kenji took the death badly. Her husband was not the crying type. Not stern or cold. Just… a habit he could never quite kick. But that day? That dreadful, horrible, infamous day? She swore every damn that ever existed in his heart shattered. Tears streaming down his face, all she could do was hold him and weep.

Still, despite it all, they had to pull themselves together. Just for the moment. Just for a second. Because a darling little boy needed to be picked up from school, and the two people who were supposed to just died.

God, Miyako loved her grandson. Kaito was a little rascal, a young boy with a galaxy-sized imagination and enough ambition to reach for every individual star. She loved spoiling her grandson. Loved having him over every summer and indulging his every interest.

Kaito wanted to take out five different books from the library at the same time? Why not? He was a fast reader. Kaito wanted to make cookies at eight at night? Well, little boys need their rest and should be getting to bed, but a late-night snack never hurt anyone. Kenji would let him follow him to the warehouse, coming home with stories of how Kaito rummaged through boxes like they were piles of treasure and climbed over storage containers like they were dangerous mountains. It was adorable, and Miyako always looked forward to spending the summer with her grandson.

When Miyako and Kenji showed up at Kaito’s school to pick him up that day he was so happy. He ran towards them the minute he spotted the two and hugged them both with such ferocity. He rambled on and on about how happy he was to see them and how school was so much fun and how he beat his personal record of speed running the monkey bars and how he couldn’t wait to tell his mom what he learned in science class and Miyako felt her heart break.

How do you tell a child his mother is dead? How do you tell a child his father is dead? How do you look him in the eye and tell him he won’t be going home anymore, that the summers at grandma’s and grandpa’s would be all year round now, and that you know it might sound scary but sometimes people you care about don’t come back, no matter how badly you want them to. How do you say that without crying? Without feeling like you’re lying when you tell him everything is gonna be ok.

Miyako was too old to be raising a rambunctious child again. Ume and Koji Momota were too young to die.

Too young, too old, at the end of the day it didn’t matter. The universe did what the universe does and like it or not Miyako was burying her son and raising her grandson. And so help her God she was going to do a good job at it. She refused to let Kaito down. She refused to bury another child.

Miyako didn’t know very much about space. Neither did Kenji. Kenji worked in wholesale and (back when she was working) Miyako made textiles. The vastness of the universe was not something she understood nor cared to understand. That changed when her grandson showed an increased and consistent interest in space.

Her grandson’s interests were her interests. If he wanted to ramble on and on about the books he read or the documentary he watched then it was her job to remember those facts and be able to repeat them back to him. She couldn’t be a passive listener. He had to know that she cared about his interests. That she cared enough to remember what he had to say.

It felt like she was in school again. She used to read cheesy romance novels to bed, Kenji peeking over her shoulder and commentating on the ridiculousness of it all, clearly invested despite himself. After Kaito made his permanent home in her house she read complex nonfiction books about space crafts and time dilation by the light of her bedside lamp. Books about how to identify constellations in between guides on how to help a child cope with grief.

Miyako didn’t know if she was coping. Perhaps raising Kaito was her coping. Giving him everything she possibly could, doing her best to make sure he knew he was loved and cared for, that his interests were important, that his worries were heard, and that his life had value. Making up for the death of her son by making sure that his son didn’t go neglected.

She couldn’t help but wonder if Kenji felt the same way, as she watched him comfort Kaito the week before Halloween, when the scared little boy tentatively asked if ghosts were real and, if they were, if it meant Mom and Dad would come back as the vengeful spirits he saw on t.v. As she watched her love, who’d always been so private with his emotions, start to wear his heart on his sleeve, if only in the hopes that it would reassure Kaito that he could do the same.

And perhaps she went a little overboard. Perhaps there’s such a thing as too much encouragement, if it resulted in her grandson befriending the young boy in his class who was notorious for always being in detention. A young boy who just so happened to be brilliant at forging doctor’s notes and parent signatures. A young boy who Kaito managed to get forge enough papers to take an astronaut exam made for college graduates.

Miyako was terrified when it all got out. Her Kaito? Using forged legal documents in order to take the astronaut exam early?! Oh dear lord. How badly would that affect him? Would he get a criminal record? Was he doomed to be rejected from jobs and colleges and the world as a whole all because he was just a little overeager? How could she fail him so badly!?

Kaito, of course, wasn’t worried in the slightest. Even as Miyako contemplated all the life choices that had brought her to that moment, questioning if the years had made her parenting skills too rusty to salvage, if the combined grief of the entire family had been too much to bear, if she’d failed her son by failing her grandson, Kaito just kept smiling. Kept reassuring her that it’d all work out just fine. That, sometimes, you need to be a little reckless to achieve your dreams.

It was a belief he’d gotten from Kenji. No doubt about it. Back when Kaito was scared of the world. When he was afraid of dying young like his parents. When Kenji had pulled him aside and explained the elaborate (and slightly exaggerated) tale of how he’d started his business. Spinning a story where the moral was that recklessness was not always a bad thing, and that, if you lived in fear of the world, you’d never get to achieve your dreams. Where if you constantly lived in fear of something taking your life, you’d never get to actually live it.

Kaito had taken the moral to heart. Living recklessly and chasing his dreams with a passion she’d never seen before. Yes, perhaps their parenting skills were a bit rusty. Perhaps they should’ve remembered to add an addendum lesson where they taught him that risks should be taken in moderation and that, while they didn’t want him to live in fear of death… death was still something that should be feared. Or, at the very least, criminal records should be.

Of course, Miyako’s grandson was nothing if not a bundle of optimism. Somehow, despite it all, they’d cultivated a heart that viewed the universe as beautiful, despite everything the universe had taken from him. And that heart trusted in the people in that universe. And it was that, perhaps, that resulted in him gaining the title of Ultimate Astronaut. Forged documents be damned, if a teenager could pass an exam made for college grads, then that teenager deserved to be an astronaut trainee.

She was elated (she was relieved). Everything had worked out just fine, just like Kaito had said it would, and soon her wonderful grandson would be attending the most exclusive high school in all of Japan. And if that was the case… well then she couldn’t have failed Ume and Koji now could she?

It was a surprise when Kaito called them one fine morning and asked if he could bring a friend home for the summer. But Miyako and Kenji were nothing if not welcoming. Kaito’s old forgery friend still made his way by their house every so often and, despite Kaito being off at school, the two still let him in for a snack and a chat. He really wasn’t all that bad. A quiet one. In the way that always made one assume he was up to no good. In reality, he just didn’t have much good to talk about.

The whole forgery debacle had, ironically, resulted in him ending up in a much better place. A place where he no longer needed to forge parent signatures to feel safe. Miyako and Kenji had met his new parents. The mother was the proctor for Kaito’s astronaut exam. She was nice.

So no, they had no issue with him bringing a friend. Especially one that didn’t have anywhere else to go, as Kaito had put it. An orphan, a wonderful friend, and a capable sidekick. Someone who could really use a place to stay. How could Miyako say no to that?

“Thank you for allowing me to stay in your home, Mrs. and Mr. Momota.”

Maki Harukawa was… interesting. Miyako supposed she shouldn’t be surprised, Kaito was going to a school full of exceptional people. It would be more surprising if she was boring. The young girl stood ramrod straight, weight carefully positioned on her feet like the textile worker Miyako had worked with years ago who’d offered self-defense classes to the ladies in the parking lot during breaks. Always ready to spring into action. Always ready to block a strike. A learned reflex that had oxidized over time.

Miyako led her to the room she’d be staying in, told her where to put her stuff, where the bathroom was, and what all the doors led to. It was amusing to watch the young girl flush when she was told she could have a sleepover in Kaito’s room whenever she wanted but Miyako was quick to explain that Kaito had just mentioned that he often had sleepovers with his two “sidekicks” and that she didn’t want her to feel as if she couldn’t now that the location had changed.

Besides, this was Kaito she was talking about. Her darling grandson who’d stated he planned to fistbump his bride at his wedding rather than kiss her to seal his vows. A statement that had poor Kenji audibly swallowing back his comments before giving Kaito a shaky thumbs up accompanied by one of the most forced smiles she’d ever seen. The chance of the two getting up to anything naughty was literally zero.

“So, Maki, why don’t you tell us about yourself?” Kenji asked at the dinner table that night.

Miyako watched as Maki noticeably tensed, eyes darting over to Kaito. She seemed to relax slightly at his bright smile, but her posture retained a certain rigidity.

“What do you want to know?” she asked.

“Whatever you’re comfortable sharing,” Miyako interjected, trying and failing to get the girl to relax.

“Oh. Um… Well, I… uh.”

Too much freedom? Perhaps the question was too open-ended. If Maki was going to be staying with them the entire summer Miyako wanted her to feel comfortable. Not walking on eggshells around the house, desperately glancing in Kaito’s direction as if he was the only one who could save her from this terrible situation.

“How ‘bout this,” Miyako said, “Why don’t you tell us how Kaito and you became friends? I don’t believe he told us how you two met yet.”

“Huh?” Kaito turned to look at her, “Didn’t I tell you? Maki roll’s one of my sidekicks!”

“Yes, but you never told us how that came to be.”

“You two are in the same class, aren’t you?” Kenji asked, looking at Maki.

“Yes,” Maki answered, “We are.”

“So did you two just… slowly develop a friendship in class?”

“No.”

“No?”

“Nah, Maki roll was a total recluse before I came around,” Kaito stated.

“Do you want to die?!” Maki growled before seemingly catching herself and giving a forced smile.

Kenji just laughed. “Sounds like quite the story.”

“Well then, why don’t you tell us?” Miyako gave Maki a sneaking smile, “That way Kaito doesn’t get to embellish it.”

“Hey! I don’t embellish things!”

“Sure you don’t, dear.”

“Grandma!”

The quiet snort that Maki gave made the teasing worth it.

“Alright,” Maki agreed, “Well, there was this really annoying guy who wouldn’t stop ringing my doorbell twenty-four seven…”

It was a relief to see Maki open up as time went on. Slowly but surely that cold exterior fell away and Miyako could finally bear witness to the girl that Kaito had become friends with. She was rough, with a dark sense of humor and the kind of sarcasm that could make you choke on your coffee in the morning. But there was a genuinely kind and caring soul there as well.

Miyako wasn’t one to eavesdrop, but watching Kaito and Maki train with another friend of theirs on a video call out in the backyard, fumbling with the computer and making small talk as they exercised under the stars, she couldn’t help but smile. Their closeness was evident just by looking at them. From the way Kaito beamed at the computer camera as if the friend was right beside him to the way Maki’s entire being relaxed when it was just them and the night.

It was heartwarming to watch the two come back from a jog, Kaito sweating and exhausted and Maki only slightly winded. To watch Kaito show Maki around town as if it was an amazing adventure. As if every park was a forest and every storefront was a castle. The pawn shop in town was a dinky little place with old relics of the past, but Kaito guided her through it like it was a museum. Over dinner he’d talk of how the two made their way over to the playground as evening rolled in, taking advantage of the emptiness to play like they were kids again. Swinging on the swings and spinning round the merry-go-round. Apparently checking off some boxes on the brightly colored checklist Kaito whipped up with all the things his “sidekicks” never got to do when they were young.

It was sweet. Really sweet. The way Maki’s cheeks dusted with pink, the way she playfully shoved his shoulder, and the way she admitted that it was a really smart idea of his that had led to some fun moments. They were so very close and, if Miyako didn’t know any better, she’d swear that there was love in the air.

Well. Even if there was, that wasn’t any of her business. The benefit of having already raised a teenager before was that Miyako knew that butting into teenage romance was not a smart move for any guardian. Best to just let it run its course. Work itself out.

And if Kenji slipped a romance novel onto her nightstand, feigning disinterest until she opened to the first page and he cuddled up beside her? Well, who said love had to be young?

The summer was honestly going better than she had expected. And perhaps that was the reason Miyako forgot that Maki never actually told them her Ultimate talent, too caught up watching as Kaito wrapped his arm around the girl during movie nights, hugging her close as her face warmed and she stole popcorn out of his bowl. Too busy smiling at their banter over breakfast, laughing as Maki rolled her eyes at the sugary cereal in the cupboard with marshmallow stars and planets, eating her own words as he convinced her to try it and she realized she actually liked it. Too preoccupied watching two teens simply be happy.

No, it wasn’t until she found herself in the kitchen late one night, nearly a month into the girl’s stay, drawn by the low under cabinet lights and the sound of movement did that fact finally pop back into her mind. As she watched the girl she’d let into her house stare at the countertop as if it held the answer to all of her questions, a glass of water held loosely in her as an almost imperceptible shiver ran through her body.

“You alright, dear?” she asked softly.

Maki startled. Jumping, she moved like she was on high alert, like she was a fool for even letting herself zone out. Miyako watched some of the water splash out of the glass and onto her hand, wrist, and the floor.

“Shit,” Maki whispered as she turned to look at the spill, then paling as she registered her profanity, “I mean- Sorry, I just-”

“Easy,” Miyako interrupted, “Just a spill. No need to worry. And I’m certain I said worse when I was your age, so don’t fret about that either.”

“…Right.”

Maki put the glass on the counter and, after a slight motion as if to look around, Miyako watched her wipe her wet hand on her pajama shirt.

Miyako tried to put on a comforting smile, “I take it you came for a glass of water?”

Maki nodded stiffly, “I was thirsty.”

She didn’t move. Just as still as the first day she entered the house. As if the night combined with the lack of others as a buffer stole her confidence from her.

“Well, don’t mind me. I just came for something to drink as well,” Miyako lied, “I was planning on just some water but, now that I think about it, I could really go for a hot chocolate. What about you?”

“Hot chocolate?”

“Yes. I always end up making more than I can actually drink, so if you want some I’d be happy to get you a glass too.”

Maki nodded, gaze drifting elsewhere, “Ok.”

Miyako worked in silence. Her hot chocolate wasn’t anything special. She’d love to say she was one of those grandmas who made the whole thing from scratch, but she wasn’t. She got a premium instant mix, made it with milk rather than water, took a couple of the marshmallows from Kaito’s cereal and sprinkled them in, and served it all with a sugar wafer on the side.

Handing a mug to Maki, she sat beside her on the kitchen island chairs, waiting for the younger girl to make a move and say something.

“…You didn’t need to do this,” she spoke into the dark, staring into the mug as the colors from the marshmallows bled into the drink.

Miyako didn’t answer right away, taking a long sip from her mug and savoring it.

“Perhaps. But I wanted to.”

Maki didn’t answer. Just raised her mug to her lips and took the barest of sips.

“It’s good.”

“Thank you.”

Silence.

“You know,” Miyako started, “If you’d rather make your way up to Kaito’s room I won’t mind.”

Maki’s fingers twitched, “No. No, I’m… good.”

“Then,” Miyako continued, wanting to give the girl an out if she needed it, “You can always tell me to buzz off. I won’t mind being kicked out of my own kitchen if that’s what you need. This home is as much mine as it is yours right now.”

Maki’s brow furrowed. Her fingers twitched more.

“No,” she said, “You can stay.”

The silence was painful. Miyako wished she could magic into existence the right words to get the poor girl to calm, but she just wasn’t that good with conversation. She was old and out of touch. Got her reality checks from Kaito and the books at the library that reminded her that reality didn’t pause just because she gained gray hair and that the things she thought were normal some odd years ago could be viewed as horrific by the new generation.

Looking at Maki, Miyako realized she didn’t know much about the modern-day system for orphans. Back when she was young, there were those horrible places. Big concrete buildings devoid of happiness. Too many kids, not enough caregivers, and not enough people willing to adopt. Children from terrible homes taken from the frying pan and put into the fire. Back when corporal punishment was viewed as a good thing and parents who didn’t spank or slap their children were viewed as too kind.

For years Miyako had thanked the stars that she and Kenji were still alive when Ume and Koji died. That Kaito wasn’t put in one of those horrid group homes with ten kids and a guardian who only cared about them for the checks. She hadn’t done much research on what he could’ve been put through, what could happen if their old age caught up to them before Kaito graduated High School. She didn’t want to know.

Sitting in the kitchen with a silent Maki Harukawa, Miyako wished she had.

“Did you know I used to be a textile worker when I was younger?” she started, saying the first thing that came to mind.

“…Kaito said you were good at sewing.”

“Well I am,” she laughed a bit, “I know needles and thread like the back of my hand, can work those machines better than most know how to drive.”

“…Did you enjoy it?”

Miyako paused, “‘Enjoy’ is a strong word. But… Well, it wasn’t the worst job I could get. To this day I still work on a project or two on my own time. But at the end of the day, it’s factory work. And factory work is rarely pleasant.”

“Oh?”

Her voice was stilted, but a bit of life had managed to make its way back into it. Miyako chased that.

“Yes. I won’t bore you with those sorts of stories, especially not someone with as bright a future as you, but… well for as exhausting as it could be some days I don’t think I ever really disliked going to work.”

“Why not?”

“Cause that’s where all my girls were!” Miyako smiled, “Us textile girls, we were as thick as thieves. There are plenty of good stories to tell about them. The work was work, but I never had as close-knit a friend group as I did in that business. Still talk to them every so often, on the phone. You know, you remind me of one of them.”

Maki tensed, and Miyako cursed herself for it. She was trying to get the girl to relax, not wind her up more.

“Which one?” Maki asked.

“Mari,” Miyako answered softly, as if speaking lower would get the teen sitting beside her to relax her shoulders for even a second, “A real fighter, that one. Taught the ladies self-defense in the parking lot during breaks.”

“Self-defense?”

“Yeah. The world’s not all peaches and cream, though I’m sure you already know that. We got out late and it wasn’t exactly ideal for a young girl to walk home all by herself. Most of us carried mace, others just snuck a brick into their purse and hoped it would hit hard enough if need be. But Mari,” Miyako laughed, “If you followed Mari home you’d be the one turning up dead the next day, not her. That lady could take you down in a second.”

Maki gripped the mug tighter as she took a sip, “That didn’t scare you?”

“How could it?” Miyako asked, “She was on our side. Taught the skinny girls with barely any meat on them how to survive better than any book could. Quiet. She was very quiet. Always alert and watching, but a truly good person. Stopped a fire once, with those instincts of hers. A truly smart girl.”

“…If she was so smart,” Maki started, hesitant, “How come she ended up in a place like that?”

How come indeed. Miyako sighed.

“You don’t get reflexes like that from nothing. She never talked much about herself, more interested in others, but there were scars on her hands. And not ones from the machines. No one ever asked, especially not in those days… but it wasn’t too hard to guess.”

Maki was silent for a long time. For a moment, Miyako questioned if she’d messed up. Stepped over some imaginary line, got too personal with a girl who didn’t get personal, and tried to act like a parent for someone who didn’t want it. She watched as Maki drained half the mug before talking and cringed at the shakiness of her voice.

“And I remind you of her?” she asked.

She could back down. Perhaps Maki really had only come for a glass of water. Maybe she got distracted by the beauty of the backyard through the window or the peace of the night in the kitchen. Maybe nothing was wrong and she was barking up the wrong tree, bothering Kaito’s friend like the nosy grandma she was.

Miyako didn’t think that was it, though. And, if raising Kaito had taught her anything, it was that sometimes all someone needed was a little push.

“You stood just like her,” Miyako said, “The day you first got here. Like you had to be ready to move, to strike, at any moment.”

Something like recognition sparked in Maki’s eyes before she let out a sigh far too big for her body.

“Why?” she asked.

“Why?”

Maki didn’t turn to look at her, “I don’t…”

Miyako waited for her to finish her statement. When it was clear the young girl was at a loss for words, she stepped in.

“You can talk to me,” she soothed, “Don’t feel shy.”

Maki glared into the remains of her hot chocolate before bowing her head slightly, shoulders dropping in exhaustion.

“I just don’t get it,” Maki admitted, “I spent so much time freaking out, thinking I was going to mess this up, and then… I didn’t.”

“Mess what up?”

“This,” Maki gestured to the room as if that explained anything, “But everything’s gone so well and I’ve been so happy. I mean, you’re sitting here in the middle of the night, losing sleep because the girl your grandson befriended looked a little sad.”

“It’s no trouble, really,” Miyako assured.

“That’s just it!” Maki argued, “You keep saying stuff like that! And you’ve been so nice, you’ve both been so nice, but I… I woke up tonight. And I just walked out into the kitchen and it just… it didn’t feel real.”

Oh. Oh, what was that word Miyako had learned? Buried deep in one of those horribly dense nonfiction books on grief. Back when that was practically the only thing she read, as she tried to navigate a situation she never would’ve thought she’d find herself in. …Dissociation? Was that the word? Maki did look rather out of it when Miyako entered the kitchen. A certain emptiness to it not unlike when Tsukiko tried her first cigarette. Just holding out her hand to Yoko as she lit her regular, as if the mere gesture spoke for itself. Coughing as she inhaled for the first time, face never changing as Yoko patted her back and told her she’d made the stupidest decision of her entire life.

“I’ve never lived in a house before,” Maki said in a hushed voice, “and it suddenly hit me just how comfortable I got here. And then it just… I don’t know. Is this what it’s supposed to feel like?”

And god did that just make Miyako want to wrap the girl up in a blanket and hug her. The poor dear didn’t even know what it was like to have a house to herself. To have a family. To have… anything.

Why else would her darling Kaito draw up a list of things his sidekicks never got to do? Lord knows what his poor friends had been put through. Miyako knew firsthand just how much could change in a couple of decades, but also how much could stay the same. And, looking at the weary teen in front of her, something told her nothing had changed when it came to those awful concrete orphanages of old. God, what was it with her grandson and befriending the hurt?

Miyako tried to think of something to say. Oh, when was the last time she’d had a conversation like this? She was rusty. Always rusty, her skills were always rusty and unpolished. An old woman trying desperately to fall back into the role she once occupied, trying to be the same mother she once was to youths from a generation so far removed from her own she couldn’t possibly hope to understand. To kids who’d lost their loving parents or never had them in the first place.

Still. She’d be a fool if she didn’t try.

“I don’t know what you’re feeling,” she started, “So I can’t say for certain. But, if you’re asking if you’re supposed to feel happy, then yes. Yes, that’s what it’s supposed to feel like.”

“It doesn’t feel right,” the words were barely audible, “Everything’s so soft and nice and it was nice at school but THIS is…”

“Different?”

Maki took a shaky drink from her mug. It was starting to get empty.

“Different,” she agreed.

Miyako nodded, “Well, there’s a difference between a nice large place with tons of people you like and a small place just for a few people you care about. There’s a big difference between a crowded dining hall full of people you're friends with, and a small dining room table with just four people. …So I think it's perfectly reasonable for this to be a little… overwhelming for you.”

“Yeah?” Maki breathed.

“Yeah,” Miyako agreed, “But you know what? There’s no rush. Take as much time as you need to get comfortable. I assumed it’d go without saying, but I might as well say it anyway. No matter what, you are always welcome in this house. For any holidays, any breaks, even just a day trip. Whether you’ll be staying for months or just a few nights, you are always welcome in this house, for as long as we have it.”

Miyako heard Maki’s breath hitch, “You don’t know what you’re offering.”

“I know exactly what I’m offering,” Miyako countered, “I’m offering a nice young girl who’s a wonderful friend to my grandson a place to stay should she ever need it.”

“You don’t… I’m not-”

“You’ve been a wonderful guest and made my grandson smile and laugh like its second nature.”

“But I-”

“There is nothing you could say that could convince me you are a bad person.”

Maki paused for a long moment and, for a second, Miyako genuinely thought she had nothing left to say. Then she drew in a deep breath, set down her cup, and looked Miyako dead in the eyes.

“I’m the Ultimate Assassin.”

It was clear the statement was supposed to come out strong. Eyes burning red, face set in a glare. But there was a weakness to it, a tiny tremble at the end, that revealed the nervous child underneath. Miyako found herself so focused on reaching out to the child, to give her some semblance of warmth to latch onto, that she almost missed the actual words that were said.

Though once they caught up to her… OH, they caught up to her.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Assassin,” Maki reiterated, “I’m an assassin. I’ve killed people. You just offered to let an assassin stay in your home whenever she wanted.”

Huh. That she did.

Miyako supposed this was the part where she was supposed to freak out. But, for some reason, it just… didn’t happen. Oh, she understood the implications that statement came with. The girl in front of her likely had more blood on her hands than Miyako could imagine. Certainly more than any teenager should have if Hope’s Peak Academy decided to give her a title like THAT.

For a moment, Miyako questioned the morality and legality of a government-backed school actively seeking out and assisting criminals, but Kaito had broken the law to get into the astronaut program early, so perhaps she shouldn’t be throwing stones in glass houses.

Regardless, the fear and terror didn’t come. All she could see was the innocent, young orphan that sat beside her. The girl her grandson had taken a chance on. The girl her grandson almost certainly had a crush on. And perhaps that girl wasn’t very innocent anymore, but she was still young. Still just a child. Maybe it was the old age talking, the gray hair and wrinkles round the eyes, but Miyako couldn’t bring herself to view the girl as anything but that. A child. And children rarely did things of that degree without something or someone else forcing them along.

Miyako shot Maki a warm smile, “…Well I’m certainly not going to take my offer back if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“How can you be so calm?!” Maki gaped at her, “Your grandson brought a murderer home. Your grandson is friends with a MURDERER.”

“My grandson brought home a dear friend of his who I’ve only heard him say wonderful things about,” Miyako countered, “A friend who trains with him in the backyard at night on video call with another. A friend who compliments my cooking and laughs during movie nights.”

Maki shook her head in confusion, “Aren’t you even the least bit afraid of me?”

“Dear, you are a child,” Miyako said, “And I mean that in the least patronizing way possible. You are oh so very young and have so much more ahead of you. To judge you on anything you’ve done so far would be silly of me.”

Maki searched her face as if, if she looked hard enough, she could find some hidden truth buried beneath. There was none, though, and Miyako just kept smiling. Smiling as if that alone could prove her words were genuine. Finally, Maki turned away, huffing in frustration.

“Your whole family’s too nice.”

Miyako chuckled, “Perhaps. But of all the flaws to have I don’t think that one’s quite so bad.”

Maki looked down into the remains of her hot chocolate. Almost hidden by the shadow of her hair, Miyako could make out a little smile on her face.

“Maybe you’re right,” she spoke softly, “Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it,” Miyako reassured before shooting Maki a cheeky smile, “Besides, for all I know you could be my granddaughter-in-law someday.”

Maki blushed, “Do you want to die?!”

“Teasing!” she laughed, “Just teasing.”

Maki shook her head and grumbled, the serious air dissipating with her childish display. Smiling, Miyako just patted the girl’s hand and stood up. Cracking her back as she did, she moved over to the sink to wash her mug out.

“Not that it means anything-” Maki interrupted, “But if I did want to ask your grandson out… I don’t suppose you’d have any suggestions?”

Miyako raised her eyebrow. Well, then. Perhaps a little interference in teenage romance couldn’t hurt. Especially if she was being asked.

Miyako gave Maki a grin, “I may have a few.”