Chapter Text
A problem, as Rei is currently learning, can come in rather nice wrapping. Case in point: Rei is damn good at his job. Or rather, Rei is too damn good at his job.
As much as it would save everyone the trouble, the organization can’t simply give Rei every single job that they have. Some require more recognisance—which Rei is capable of, if need be. He’s capable of anything this job throws at him; his father made sure of that when raising him. But Rei is always at his best with a gun lying with a familiar dead weight in his palms. And there’s only so many people to kill at one point in time. Unfortunately.
The bell above the cafe door jingles a little tune as Rei shoves past the entrance and stalks into his usual post-hit seat with a firm frown. The job, if one can even call such a simple point-and-shoot ordeal such, was boring. All his recent jobs have been, really. Nothing to get his adrenaline pumping at all. The most exciting thing to happen is the target managing to knock Rei’s gun from his hands and pulling a knife from his shoe—that had been promising. But his inexperience showed through the second the weapon fully settled in his hands, the grip all wrong and too easy to flick away.
He was done with it no less than an hour after it was given to him.
Rei slaps a stack of documents (the remaining evidence) down on the polished bar in front of him, the barkeep already at work with his usual drink. Kyutaro doesn’t even acknowledge the papers until Rei’s two sips into his drink.
“Could it hurt you to be more subtle when walking in here?” Kyutaro quips, face calm as he flips idly through the pages Rei presented him.
“People don’t normally complain,” Rei mutters. He’s pretty sure they don’t anyway. He takes a larger gulp of his orange cream soda and just like all the other specialty drinks and coffees that are served here, Rei has to admit to himself that it’s good. Some of the drinks Kyutaro even came up with himself as he was once told (information retained against his will). Rei wonders how the hell Kyutaro ended up working for the underbelly of business at all. “Next one.”
Kyutaro tucks the stack into a nearby drawer—one that Rei knows by now is where he puts evidence that’ll be disposed of soon. He goes back to washing out glasses. “There are none.”
“Bullshit,” says Rei. “Someone always wants someone else dead. Give me my next hit.”
Kyutaro heaves a long-suffering sigh. “I can’t. There’s nothing here that are suited for you—”
“I’m suited for everything.” Rei scowls at him. Sometimes Kyutaro decided to be cheeky and difficult. Normally, Rei thinks he’s fine—does his job well and is trusted by the higher ups of their organization—but sometimes Rei thinks Kyutaro forgets that he isn’t actually in charge.
“Not ones like this,” he insists. Then Kyutaro pauses, lips thinning a bit before speaking again. “Boss’ orders.”
Why…why the hell would the Boss insist he not take up any more jobs? Is it not what he was trained for? Rei takes another swig of his drink. If Boss wants, Boss gets. So he guesses that’s that.
“What does he want me to do then?”
Kyutaro inspects the glass he’s cleaning, making sure that the invisible spot he’d been wiping at is fully out of his sight. “I believe he needs to see you.”
And he couldn’t call Rei himself?
“You’ve been doing one job after another for almost an entire year now,” Kyutaro continues. “I believe he put it as ‘he’s stooping below his level’ and that you’re ‘acting no better than a common assassin.’ Something along those lines.”
Sounds like a perfect transcription of what his father probably said. Rei doesn’t have the energy to do anything more than grunt back. He’ll go see his father tomorrow morning so he can have the time to clean off his gloves, tacky from blood at the moment. Knife fights are such a pain to clean up.
He finishes his drink off easily and stalks into the night without another word. Kyutaro watches him go without trying to stop him, as usual.
Rei doesn’t remember the walk home, nor opening his door, nor throwing off his suit onto his floor, nor stuffing some not-so-cooked-all-the-way-through instant noodles into his mouth. It’s like he blinks and he’s in his sweatpants and t-shirt, hair blocking his vision and the taste of artificial flavoring on his tongue. He’ll have to find where the hell he put his hair tie tomorrow but for now, he double checks for his hidden gun, and lets himself drift off into a very light sleep in his bathtub.
The sound of cicadas would be annoying if Rei wasn’t so used to it already. He’s spent many months, year after year, hearing nothing but bug chirps, his Boss’ harsh coaching, and the sound of his gun firing into whatever target the Boss’ finger landed on. But even after being away from this house for so long, Rei easily falls back into the habit of tuning out any unnecessary noises.
Boss sits with rigid, unforgiving posture as Rei opens the door to his office, the same place he typically is. He doesn’t bother acknowledging Rei when he enters—Rei doesn’t expect him to.
“Rei,” Boss greets him. “No manners, I see. Typical.”
“You summoned me.” Rei states, letting irritation slip into his voice.
Boss pauses in the middle of writing. His fountain pens suspends in mid-air as if he couldn’t remember what word he wanted to come next. The Boss’s eyes flick up, hard and cold and deadly, exactly as he taught Rei should be natural of assassins—that same look meant to quell any defiance in a target. Rei’s irritation gives in to his training.
“It’s clear that being out among the common folk has ruined what little bit of you that knew respect.” Boss’s words are delivered calmly with the right amount of ice layering over them to send a slight shiver down Rei’s spine—though he wouldn’t dare show it. “Return home.”
Rei wishes to argue but nods his head in a stilted motion. Immediately, Boss picks up on the hesitation.
Boss’s lips curl in distaste and he sets his pen to the side, turning his full attention to Rei. That’s never meant anything good. “Do you forget who you are? The Suwa family has paved its way to nobility through death but without us, there is no life for you. You bear that legacy and your sole purpose is to ensure it carries on after you. Nothing else takes precedence.”
“Understood,” Rei says. He’s heard the same thing since birth, how could he not understand it? He wishes he didn’t.
“Tie up your loose ends. It’s time you start taking on your responsibility.” Boss picks his pen back up and begins to write on his paperwork again, signifying that there will be no more argument on Rei’s part.
Rei schools his expression until he’s back in the hallway and the door has clicked shut. He glares at the floor, fist tightening by his side to keep his fingers from itching for his gun.
He doesn’t have a lot of time to figure out a way out of this, he knows he should start any planning immediately, but right now, all he really needs is a pack of cigarettes and a job to get rid of the itch. Rei trudges out the door and turns to the direction of Kyutaro’s, cigarette already lit and at his lips.
“Ah. Back already,” Kyutaro says lightly, an act for the few customers lounging in a nearby booth.
Rei doesn’t bother sitting down, placing his clenched fists to the polished bar. “He wants me back,” he hisses.
Kyutaro’s practiced movements don’t stall but his face twists in a momentary break in his customer-service-friendly persona. “I figured it would be as such. What are you here to do about it then? He doesn’t want you taking on any more jobs—“
“I need one,” Re interrupts. There’s an itch underneath his skin that’s getting progressively harder to ignore. An anxiety that can not and will not be silenced by the volume of his video games. He needs the crash that comes after completing mind-numbing orders. Then he’ll be able to relax onto his hardwood floor and play games until the boss sends after him.
“You’ve ran us dry of your typical jobs,” Kyutaro insists.
Rei’s fingers curl in on themselves, balling into a fist as tight as the knot forming over the empty space in his chest where commands typically go. He could go back to the Suwa house now—that would correct the voided error. But Rei wants to rebel—even if it's replacing one order for another, even if the consequences of a killing machine gaining something resembling sentience are dire. What little he can do as he is now; not fully human, not fully robot—a thing, half-empty and gaping and lacking in every aspect.
Kyutaro breaks him out of his spiral by continuing, “There are no assassin jobs. However, there is…something you can take.”
Rei perks up. Or, the equivalent of it for him—his eyes snap to Kyutaro, giving him full attention. “I’ll take it.”
Kyutaro shakes his head. “Listen to me first. It’s more of a special case, one I only received a few days ago. I will say it’s outside of your realm of expertise and your…normal employer.”
A job independent of the organization? Rei frowns. Unusual. He didn’t know Kyutaro provided intel beyond what he did for the Suwa family. It raises Rei’s hackles but it also intrigues him. “What kind of work is it?”
“Bodyguarding,” Kyutaro states simply, voice a little lower to prevent his customers from overhearing.
A furrow forms between Rei’s brows, deep enough to almost instantly cause him a headache. “What?”
“The employer would prefer to give out the details themselves—” Suspicious, is Rei’s instant thought. “—though I can assure that the job is legitimate. I wouldn’t be telling you any of this if I hadn’t done proper checks.”
Of course, Rei knows this. Kyutaro has always been thorough, not one speck left without a background check. Still. Rei has a right to be a little perturbed. If only it weren’t his only option.
“I’ll take it,” Rei repeats, firm, pushing himself from the countertop. “Send me the necessary information.”
Kyutaro begins to dig through a side drawer of his before pulling out a simple slip of paper with a phone number on it. “I do have another warning for you—”
Rei snatches the paper and heads for the exit. “I can handle it.”
His hand rests on the door, ready to push it open and go buy a burner phone, when Kyutaro sighs. “Your employer’s name is Kazuki Kurusu.”
And just like that, Rei’s everything grinds to a halt.
That name. How did he know it? Why did he still remember it, is probably the better question. Names don’t matter until a tombstone is made—and yet Rei remembers one that’s brimming with life.
“Who?” Rei asks in confusion.
“International, few years back. Two man job. He handled information and…publicity,” Kyutaro explains, still careful with his language.
The door clutters shut behind him as Rei whips around, his frown deepening all the more. “The one who cut my hair while I was asleep?”
Kyutaro’s lips twitch like he’s trying to hold back a laugh—or maybe a smirk, that smug bastard. “That’s the one.”
Of fucking course it is. Rei thought he’d never have to see Kurusu ever again. He’d spent a month in close proximity with that man and that was more than enough for an entire lifetime. Loud, clean freak, and just fucking weird—makes sense why he remembers his name; they don’t like each other much. Or rather, Kurusu really doesn’t like him and Rei verges a step beyond neutral into annoyance.
“You still want it?” Kyutaro prompts.
Want it? No, not particularly. However, this is one of the few situations where Kurusu is the lesser of two evils—much less at that. “Sure,” Rei responds.
“Then good luck.”
He’ll need it.
Rei stands outside a modest apartment complex on the east side of the city in his typical work clothes. Adjusting his gloves for the nth time, he breathes out a soft sigh. Best get this over with.
Realistically, Kurusu will kick him out the second he sees who he’s arranged this meeting with—Rei will go on his way, an excuse of a job already fed to his boss and plenty of time to finish up all his playthroughs; Kurusu will find someone much more suited for the job.
Rei does wonder, as he enters and ascends the elevator, what the hell Kurusu needs a bodyguard for. Debts probably. If Rei recalls correctly, he had quite the gambling addiction which tore into their funds for the job—Kurusu forbid he order any more room service and Rei threatened to kill him (but complied in the end because he didn’t have the energy to endure further discussion—Kurusu would’ve made a big deal out of it, wouldn’t have stopped talking).
Finally, Rei reaches the correct apartment, tucked in the corner at the end of a hallway. He knocks —“one, one, one, then four really quick in a row,” Kurusu’s message said. Rei almost refuses to do it, out of some sort of pettiness, but quickly reminds himself that regardless of the client, this is a job.
Rei waits some odd seconds more. No rustle or voice to indicate that there’s life in the apartment at all. Doubt settles in the base of his skull and, like a lever pulling, Rei draws his gun and readies it in a single, fluid motion. It doesn’t make sense why anyone would try to lure him with a job outside his caliber or use, of all people, Kurusu’s name. (He knows it couldn’t be Kurusu himself—his plans, even through their constant derailing, are solid and get his victims to their final destination. He wouldn’t create an assignment so suspicious from the get-go.)
He tests the door handle. Unlocked. Rei toes it open as silently as he can and surveys for closest spots for cover within the apartment. It’s bare, dust lying in a thin film over the storage shelves, plastic tarps thrown into the far corner, no shoes left at the door. One by one, he checks each room, shoulder in line with the wall.
Kitchen—clear. Living room—clear. Bathroom—clear.
He reaches one of the two remaining rooms, poised to throw the door open, when he hears a footstep behind him. No hesitation, Rei spins directly toward the noise and fires two shots—head, heart.
Neither of them land but the person stumbles and it’s enough of an opening for Rei to knock them to the ground, gun pointed directly at their forehead and trigger already pulling. A yelp reels Rei out of his single-minded haze and he actually takes a look at the person who he’d assumed was here to kill him.
Blonde hair falls haphazardly to reveal a smooth forehead, reddish eyes alight and lips pulled into a lopsided frown. Kurusu scolds, “Could you enter someone’s home like a normal person?! You’re just as trigger happy as ever. Point the gun away from your client, dude.”
Rei lowers his gun with a glare. “You don’t sound surprised to see me.”
Kurusu scoffs, standing to his feet and dusting off the backs of his legs. “The way you text is already a dead giveaway. Seriously. You don’t need to type okay as ‘O-period-K-period.’ Well, it’s more that ‘O-period-K-period’ is the only thing you text to anything ever.”
Rei doesn’t have the capacity to argue with him at the moment. “I’m here for the job.”
“Sure, sure.” Kurusu waves his hands around. “Let’s go to my office then.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets and starts to stride towards the door. Rei’s frown lessens to accommodate the oncoming confusion. “This apartment…”
Kurusu twirls around, humming then letting his eyes flit all over the space. “Oh, here? I think they just got done renovating it—” he winces at the newfound bullet holes tearing through the new paint “—or…not. They’ll see it tomorrow and fix it.”
The guilt is palpable but Rei focuses more on the information than the way it's given. “It’s not yours?”
“This?” Kurusu points to the ceiling and snickers. “Nah, if only.”
Several questions pop into Rei’s mind—he has never understood Kurusu. None of which, more than likely, will have answers that will solve anything.
Kurusu continues, “What? Did you think I would send my actual address first thing? I had to make sure it was actually you before that. Let’s take a walk to discuss some things first, yeah?”
Clearly, that’s all Rei is getting. All that’s left to do is follow Kurusu out the door and into the empty street below. Kurusu lets out a satisfied sigh at the moderate temperature, falling into an unhurried pace.
“So,” Kurusu begins, not bothering to wait for Rei to fully catch up with him. “There’s a lot to cover when it comes to the, eh, intricacies of this job. I’ll give you all you need to know in as little time as possible, ‘kay?”
Rei grunts.
“Great!” Unfortunately, that means leaning in more towards Rei to lower his voice and Rei tries his best to not recoil. “The one who needs protection isn’t me, actually. It’s this young girl in my care. She, ah. She’s ‘my daughter.’” He uses air quotes. “She ended up with me after a mission of mine went wrong and I need to make sure she’s fully protected while I finish it up.”
“Why keep her if it’s so dangerous?”
Kurusu tenses, only slightly, hardly noticeable to anyone that isn’t standing inches away from him. “The Hayami family wants her.”
“A child?” Rei asks. What could a crime family known mostly for their drug ring possibly want from a kid? Some sort of importance that Kurusu is leaving out. Rei’s eyes narrow at him.
At least Kurusu has enough of a mind to seem sheepish. “Their child…”
Now that…that gets a reaction out of Rei. He halts with little grace and even less warning. “What the fuck?”
“It’s…” Kurusu starts, aborts. He turns towards Rei and tries again, “It’s a long story.”
Kurusu, Rei understands, is no stranger to hell and high waters. He’s been through the world and around this industry long enough to know what makes it tick. He knows that their kind fuels themselves off of monetary profit and bloodied hands. There’s no way that Kurusu could have made it as far as he has if he wasn’t actively aware of this. He knows. But is risking it all. For the sake of a little girl.
“You’re insane,” Rei states.
Kurusu’s hands ball up tight, shoves them in his jacket pockets. “Hey, you’ll only be involved as necessary. It’s only until I find her father.”
“And what then?” Rei can’t help but ask him.
Within the span of a blink, Kurusu’s whole demeanor darkens, as a rain cloud blocks even the brightest sun, despite the fact that there’s still the outline of a smile still plastered, wildly, on his face. “Simple. Kill him.”
Kill the head of the Hayami family. For a second, the most gullible and trusting portion of Rei—one he didn’t quite know existed—believes him, believes in the simplicity of the statement. He tamps that down as best as he can.
“You have a death wish then,” Rei’s voice is cold and razored along the edges.
“No,” Kurusu denies instantly. “But I have a little girl to take care of and a job to finish. If I get rid of him, she’s safe—I have a place for her to go just in case. Most likely, after all this, I won’t be either of your problems.”
Rei stares at him for several long seconds, unblinking and unfeeling. “Kids don’t like me.”
“She will,” Kurusu fires back.
“What will you tell her?”
Kurusu rolls his eyes, as if Rei is somehow the ridiculous one out of the two. “That you’re a babysitter.”
“Why not hire me to kill him? That’s what I’m good at,” Rei pushes back. From the sounds of it, he will be a glorified babysitter if he takes on this job. Killing is easy—you can train your mind and body for it, you can know what to expect. Children are like a bouncing ball of energy—perhaps you can predict where it will go, but until that happens or it loses steam, you’re fucked.
Kurusu snorts, continuing on their trek down the sidewalk as if this were normal afternoon walk conversation. “It’s my job, remember? Plus, I want that satisfaction for myself.”
The flops between selfishness and selflessness are giving Rei a headache. One of the reasons he’d rather have never seen Kurusu again: the complexities that happen beneath his sunny front are difficult for Rei to keep track of. Without effort, that is.
“I thought you were smarter than this,” Rei says firmly.
Kurusu’s smile tips off-kilter, then slides completely off. Annoyance dons his face like he’s slipping on an old, dysfunctional coat. “Listen. If there were any other way, or any other person, I would hire them instead in a heartbeat. But this is the best I have and whether I like it or not, I need you. So. Fuck you.”
Rei lets out a breath in a not-quite sigh. He’s tired. There’s no point in arguing anymore. As long as he’s given an order, a body to shoot, and an excuse to avoid moving back into his childhood house where he’d have no free time—it doesn’t matter. Kurusu can hate him all he wants because Rei can’t bring himself to care.
No use in responding either. He follows as a leashed dog would its owner, slightly behind Kurusu, gaze sharpened and alert to their surroundings. If there’s not someone tracking Kurusu and/or Rei already, then there would be soon.
As they walk, Rei’s mind runs through the semantics of the job, all the steps, all the effort, ugh. Kurusu, for once, says nothing. It’s a little odd that he’s not making conversation but Rei shrugs it off since he has pissed him off.
After some unneeded twists and turns to ward off any potential tails, the two of them arrive at a rundown apartment complex stuck between two larger buildings. Rei’s first thought is about how it doesn’t seem safe to live in without the added factor of being hunted. The second is how the fuck does Kurusu plan to pay up?
“I promise it’s nicer on the inside,” Kurusu explains, needlessly, as he pulls out his keys. He leads them through the front door and corals Rei to the stairs. “Uh, there’s no elevator or anything. They did some repainting and replacing appliances stuff a while back—”
Rambling Kurusu is back in business full force, Rei notes with regret. They climb up who knows how many stairs before stopping and headed three doors down the hall. Kurusu is still rambling by the time he sticks the key in the knob.
He pauses just before he turns it and glances at Rei. “Oh, before we head in, there’s something I should probably clear up.”
Quicker than Rei can blink, Kurusu seizes Rei’s collar in a bruising grip, tugging him close to hiss at him, “If you do anything that puts her in danger or if you fail to protect her, I will kill you. ‘Kay?”
Rei shrugs. “Okay.”
Kurusu releases him and fiddles with the key again. “Good. Now, behave and meet your new boss.”
Funny. Rei hums.
The second the door swings open, Kurusu’s entire being seems to lighten. “Miriiii,” he calls out as the two of them step inside. “I’m home!”
Rei surveys the space before him. It’s relatively small, probably a maximum of 3 rooms total. All of it is spotless with a few exceptional toys dotting the hardwood, as to be expected from Kurusu.
A soft grumble emanates from the pile of blankets on their bright red couch, almost drowned out by the door swinging shut. Kurusu toes his shoes off and patters into the living room. “Miri-chaaaaan,” he tries again. “We have a guest! Can you come meet him?”
From the looks of it, the front door only has two locks—standard handle and bolt locks. Rei presses the door, testing its give, while watching for the results. The locks could withstand a common burglar (maybe) but anything beyond that, it’s useless.
Short brown strands, sticking up every which way in true post-nap fashion finally pop up, a chubby face following not so long after. “Guest?” Her tired voice mumbles.
Rei moves his attention to the kitchen. Cleanest room he’s ever seen. No knives in sight—an advantage because it means less weapons for the enemy but a disadvantage because it means less weapons to use in defense. Maybe he can strike a deal on where to hide some guns and knives.
“Mhm!” Kurusu rips the blanket off of her and grabs her from underneath her armpits, earning a squeal from her as she’s tossed into the air. “Wake up, wake up, wake up!”
Rei notes that the living area has a large window taking up almost an entire wall. The curtains are too sheer—anyone would be able to see through them if it were dark out and a light shown in the room. That would have to change.
Miri giggles reach a frequency nearly too high for Rei to comprehend. “Papa! Papa, I’m awake!”
The living area also doesn’t have enough cover. The table in the middle is glass and the furniture is arranged in an organized pattern that would make hiding near impossible in case of an ambush.
Kurusu holds her out directly in front of him, pretending to think really hard. “Oh? Are you sure?”
The afternoon sun pokes through a gap in the curtain and lands on the duo.
Rei considers whether or not the windows have locks on them or not. That’s the most obvious route for anyone to potentially sneak in through. He’ll check later when he does a more thorough check.
The little girl, whose face Rei has yet to fully see, squirms in his grip. “Yes! My eyes are open, see? I can’t be sleeping if my eyes are open!”
Not technically true, Rei thinks but stays silent. Speaking of sleeping, he wonders how big their tub is.
“Oh, of course! How could I forget? Such a silly papa I am.” Kurusu sets the child—the very tiny child, Rei sees for the first time—on the ground.
Rei snaps his attention to her. He’ll have to study her too—learn what little pattern she may keep or enough to predict where she might land next—in order to maintain an accurate status. That’s the tricky part.
Miri places her small (are kids always this tiny?) hands on her hips. “You are not silly, you are a forgetful papa! Papa forgot Miri!”
Kurusu’s laugh pivots towards something more frantic and he scratches the back of his neck. “Ah, yeah…I had to do something for work and—”
“What were you doing?” She interjects with genuine curiosity.
Kurusu brings his hands to his own hips to mirror her stance. “I was bringing our guest!”
“Why?”
“Because Miri needs a babysitter so I can go back to work, remember? We talked about it a little bit yesterday.” Kurusu ruffles her hair as he speaks, a gentle fondness that Rei has never heard before creeping into his tone.
Miri shifts on her feet and quietly nods along.
Kurusu smiles and lost is all the typical sharpness Rei receives into a genuine curve of his lips. “Alright! Go introduce yourself then. I’ll be right behind you.”
Another nod, this one much more determined than the last, and she marches directly towards Rei. Her chin sticks up in the air, chest puffs out against her pink sweater, and large eyes glittering in the filtered light. “Hello! My name is Miri Unasaka and I am four years old! Nice to meet you!”
Unasaka…? She doesn’t use the Kurusu surname nor does she use Hayami—the latter is to be expected in the given situation but to not use Kurusu? That raises suspicions from those around them. Rei aims an even look at Kurusu as he attempts to put all the pieces together. Kurusu cringes at his gaze, which tells Rei all he needs to know.
Clearly, Unasaka is Miri’s real surname—not a disguise. Which leads Rei to believe that she isn’t directly a part of the Hayami family, but rather an illegitimate add-on kept to the side. But now she’s here. No matter if Kurusu swept her away or if she miraculously fell from the sky into his arms, to the Hayami family, Kurusu has taken a token of theirs.
Rei hasn’t been hired to prevent them from taking her back—she wouldn’t be important enough to them for that. No, she’s collateral. In their hunt for Kurusu to teach him a lesson, they would not care if she gets caught in the crossfire.
All in all, Kazuki Kurusu is a dead man standing and breathing. And Rei is hired to take care of his fake daughter instead of him.
Why?! Rei wants to demand but there’s a tug on his sleeve—Miri trying to get his attention.
“Papa says it’s rude to ignore!” Miri pouts intensely.
Rei tenses, hands twitched uselessly at his sides. “Oh. My name is Rei.”
“You’re supposed to say how old you are!”
“Uh, I’m 26,” Rei complies to her demands. Miri, seemingly satisfied with this, grins wide and grapples his sleeve into a firm hold.
“Old!” She cackles. “I have to show you all of my toys. C’mon!”
He’d rather check the perimeter and learn the layout of the apartment. However, Miri has already seated him down in the most uncomfortable position between couch cushions and rushed off to retrieve her stuffies and dolls.
Kurusu snorts at Rei’s dazed expression. “I told you she’d like you. We can go over the details later, if that’s alright with you? I have to get dinner started.”
Rei doesn’t say anything in response so Kurusu takes that as an affirmative and flutters into the nearby kitchen.
It becomes abundantly clear to Rei, while he’s in the middle of a doll pile and Miri prattles on about each of their personalities, that he’s just signed himself on as a babysitter with a gun.