Chapter Text
The house was quiet, for once. Ever since Kunikida had started seeing Dazai, and eventually bought a house and moved in with him, he had come to learn that co-living tended to be noisy. Not annoyingly so, just – noisy. It was comforting, really. If Dazai wasn’t hovering around him or laying in his lap, then he was keeping himself busy in some other way: cooking, which he had gotten considerably better at, originally in an attempt to bond with Atsushi by teaching him; talking with Yosano or Ranpo over the phone; cleaning or doing laundry, etcetera. One time Kunikida came home from a grocery run and found that Dazai had rearranged the entire living room while he was gone. How he had done it in such a short time with his noodle arms, Kunikida still didn’t know and probably never would.
So, Kunikida had learned that silence when Dazai was home was deeply suspicious.
Kunikida was on the couch, legs tucked up next to him and glasses seated low on his nose as he peered down at the book he held over his lap. It was a collection of poems that Yosano had gifted him. Dazai had already read it cover-to-cover and seemed to enjoy it, so Kunikida finally took it out from the shelf to read himself. Dazai had been sitting next to him, curled up like a literal cat (really, the man’s flexibility was astounding), before stretching and leaving the room. He had been gone far longer than it would take to use the bathroom, and Kunikida couldn’t hear any noise from the bedroom. He sighed and slotted a bookmark between the pages of the book and set it aside, adjusting his glasses as he stood to check on his fiancé.
(He never thought he would be able to say that about a man, nor take such joy in it.)
Kunikida made his way down the hall. The door to the guest room was ajar. Poking his head in, Kunikida found Dazai sitting on the edge of the bed in the dark. The room was rather empty, containing just a mid-century platform bed and a nightstand with a lamp. A small dresser was against the wall and a couple statement art pieces that Dazai didn’t like enough to have in any of the main rooms were hung on the walls.
Kunikida rapped his knuckles gently on the doorframe, pushing the door open and letting the light from the hall spill into the room. Dazai shrugged in acknowledgement of Kunikida’s presence.
“What are you doing in here, my love?” Kunikida asked quietly, moving across the room to sit next to Dazai. The man shrugged again, leaning his head over to rest on the other’s shoulder. Kunikida brought a hand up to play with Dazai’s hair; it was one of his favorite things about him. Dazai’s hair was fluffy and thick and only became more lush since he started properly caring for himself. Kunikida idly dragged his fingers through the brown locks as he stared at the same spot on the wall that Dazai seemed fixated on. After a few minutes, Dazai spoke up.
“It’s so lonely around here sometimes,” he confesses, and Kunikida hums softly, encouraging him to continue. “I’ve been thinking about something lately. For a while, actually. And I… wanted to bring it up to you.” Dazai pulled back, turning slightly to face Kunikida, bringing one leg up to rest on the bed while the other remained anchoring him to the floor. “I’ve been thinking about foster care.”
Kunikida blinked, staring at Dazai. Foster care? It was certainly an idea. Kunikida wasn’t opposed to the thought of having children someday; in fact, he longed for a day where their lives would be stable enough to provide the attention and resources that a child would need. He just never imagined that Dazai would feel similarly. “Foster care?” he said aloud, and Dazai nodded.
“Yeah,” he replied. “Taking kids in for a while, giving them somewhere they can be safe until something stabilizes. It’s noble work.” He looked down at his hands, then back up to Kunikida, and the look in his eyes made something squeeze in Kunikida’s chest. “And… I made a promise. That I would help kids like that, kids that don’t have anywhere else to go. I promised a man who was very special to me that I would do what he did. And Kunikida…” his voice broke, just slightly. Dazai wasn’t usually so expressive. He had been more so in recent years, but it still took an effort for him to be vulnerable like this. Kunikida reached out and took Dazai’s hands in his own, squeezing them gently.
“It’s okay, Osamu. You don’t need to explain yourself. I’m not saying no.”
And god, if Kunikida could wear the look in Dazai’s eyes on a chain around his neck, he would never take it off.
“Really?”
Kunikida nodded, and Dazai sniffled. The blonde man held his arms out in an invitation, and Dazai scooched closer, seating himself on Kunikida’s lap and bringing his arms around the (still somehow surprisingly) broad chest.
“Thank you,” Dazai whispered against his shirt. “I love you so much.”
Kunikida smiled, bringing a hand up to the back of his head and rocking them gently. “I love you too, sweetheart.”
Kunikida knocked on the door to the Director’s office, sharp and professional.
“Come in.”
He took a deep breath and let it out before turning the handle and stepping inside, closing the door behind himself and bowing respectfully. Fukuzawa nodded and waved a hand, motioning for Kunikida to take a seat. He stared down at a paper on his desk, making a few marks with his pen before setting it aside. He looked up at Kunikida, folding his hands on top of the desk.
“Dazai tells me that the two of you were thinking of looking into foster care,” he states, and Kunikida nods.
“That is correct, sir. We believe we have the time, space, and finances for an undertaking like this, and Dazai really has his heart set on the idea. He gets lonely and needs something to channel that maternal instinct into instead of neurotically repeating chores. And he feels a sense of… obligation.”
Fukuzawa nodded sagely. “Yes, I’m well aware. I knew the man he made that promise to. A good boy, if a little misguided at first. From Dazai’s side of the story, it seems that he became a truly respectable man. A shame he met his end so soon.”
“A shame,” Kunikida agreed, looking down at his hands on his lap. The room was silent for a few moments, save for the clock ticking on the wall and the faint chatter of the rest of the office just barely heard through the wall. After a while, Fukuzawa spoke up again.
“It will be difficult for the two of you to get involved with a mainstream organization, given your combined track records,” he said frankly, steepling his hands together and pointing them at Kunikida. “Dazai’s past has been covered up rather well, but yours is still a little messy. We don’t have quite the resources as the Port Mafia does.” Kunikida nodded once more, a bit disheartened, until Fukuzawa continued.
“However,” he said, reaching down and opening a drawer on his desk, withdrawing some papers stapled together at the corner, “There is another option that I have to present you with.” He slid the papers across the desk, motioning for Kunikida to take a look. As he leafed through the papers, Fukuzawa continued talking.
“They’re a small organization that I’ve been well-acquainted with for quite some time now,” he said. “I donate funds and clothing to them whenever I can, and allow them to operate in the old church. They take kids in from situations such as Nakajima’s and provide them with a family environment. However, they’ve been overtaxed in their efforts recently. If you and Dazai would be interested in taking a child from them, I would be more than willing to cover the fee and referral.”
Kunikida, having thoroughly scanned the papers by then, set them back on the desk and opened his mouth a few times, trying to find his words. Eventually, he looked up and met the Director’s eyes, full of a fatherly warmth, and settled for a simple,
“Thank you.”
Dazai’s grip on Kunikida’s hand was tight enough to bruise as they approached the building. The man’s stress was almost tangible. He had showered twice and tried on four different outfits before settling on his usual waistcoat and sweater over a long white skirt. To look sophisticated and motherly, he had said. Kunikida had opted for a sweater vest and dress shirt with a nice pair of jeans that he rarely wore. Dazai had taken a section of Kunikida's hair and braided it over his shoulder, leaving the rest as a golden curtain behind him. They had both grown their hair out, with Kunikida’s filling out and Dazai’s now reaching past his shoulders. Dazai had pinned a bow in his own hair, white with a little yellow star charm glued to the center. Kyouka had made it for him. Kunikida had had to talk Dazai through two panic attacks before they even left.
Now, as they got closer, the door to the church opened and a woman stepped out, smiling warmly at them. Kunikida held his free hand up in a polite wave, and Dazai managed a smile. The woman stepped down the stairs and approached them, holding her own hand out.
“Hi, welcome!” she greeted brightly as Kunikida released Dazai’s hand to shake hers. “You must be Dazai and Kunikida. It’s a pleasure to meet you, my name is Satou!”
“The pleasure is ours, miss,” Kunikida replied, and Dazai nodded, holding onto Kunikida’s arm with both of his own. Satou smiled at them and turned, waving for them to follow her.
“I’ve read through the files that Fukuzawa sent over for you two,” she said as they walked, “And I have to say, I’m impressed. Sadly, it’s not every day that someone actually qualified comes along to us; more often than not, the people who come to us are just looking for an insurance claim and someone to exploit.”
Dazai shuddered and made a face. “That’s horrible,” he murmured, and Satou nodded sadly.
“It’s unfortunate, that’s for sure,” she replied, leading them to a room behind what would have been, or used to be, the altar. There were other women and a few men scattered around, carrying baskets of laundry or playing with children. There were, in fact, children, and most of them watched curiously as they walked past.
Satou held the door open for them, entering behind them and closing the door. She motioned for them to sit on the couch in front of the desk in the middle of the room. File cabinets lined the walls. Satou made her way to one of the filing cabinets, flicking through it. “The moment I read through your files, I knew who would suit you two,” she said. “I do have to warn you, she’s our resident problem child. She’s been brought back four times since we got her, and even more before that.” She pulled a folder out and handed it to Kunikida, who held it open for Dazai to see as well.
Name: Kurobara Samantha
Age: 16
Sex: Female
Ability: Yes
Additional details…
Dazai blinked and looked up at Satou. “She has an ability?” he asked, and the woman nodded, looking hesitant. “She won’t tell any of us exactly how it works,” she confessed. “She says she doesn’t like using it.” Dazai and Kunikida exchanged a look.
“May we meet her?” Dazai asked, and Satou nodded.
“Let me go get her.”
Satou left, and Kunikida let out a soft sigh, running his hand through his hair. Dazai looked at him, taking Kunikida’s hand between both of his own. “What are you thinking, darling?”
“I’m thinking that I don’t know if we’re equipped to take this girl,” he confessed, and Dazai cocked his head. “Look at her file, Osamu. ‘Struggles with self-harm, anxiety, and an unspecified eating disorder?’ ‘Returns from school with minor to severe injuries and refuses to elaborate?’”
“That’s not any more than you had to help me through, Doppo,” Dazai replied, brows furrowed, and Kunikida let out a breath.
“I’m not saying that I can’t handle it, Osamu, I’m worried for you. You only just recently started feeling safe without your bandages. I’m scared that being around that negativity again will hurt you.”
“Doppo,” Dazai said, squeezing his hand, “I can handle it. I’m not that fragile anymore. This girl clearly needs help, and I want to try. For myself, for her.”
“For your friend,” Kunikida mumbled, and received a nod. He sighed. “Okay. I’m willing to try. Together, right?” Dazai smiled and nodded, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. “Together.”
Satou re-entered the room at that moment, a slightly tense smile on her face.
“Samantha, please come in here.”
The girl poked her head around the doorframe, and Kunikida blinked. She looked… awful. Her mousy brown hair was tangled and her glasses had tape on the bridge, the school uniform she was wearing was covered in grass stains, the little that they could see of her arms were wrapped in dirty bandages, and she had gauze pads on one of her knees and her cheek. Heterochromatic eyes, one green and one blue, hid behind smudged lenses. She stepped into the room fully and bowed politely. Kunikida and Dazai stood and bowed back, Dazai giving the girl a reassuring smile.
“Hi there,” he said, offering his hand for her to shake, which she did. Tentatively. “Do you prefer to go by your first or last name?”
She looked between the two of them as she let go of Dazai’s hand, seemingly assessing them. She had a sort of feral look to her that suggested she was used to surviving. “Kurobara is fine.” Dazai glanced at Kunikida, and he nodded. Satou caught his eye and they made their way to the hall while Dazai talked to Kurobara.
“She refuses to take care of herself,” was the first thing Satou said. “Please don’t think we’re neglecting the children. I promise, she’s as healthy as we can manage. We can’t force her to do something she doesn’t want to. It’s enough that she comes back after school lets out.” Kunikida held a hand up placatingly.
“I understand,” he replied gently. “My fiancé was quite the same until recently. He has a soft spot for children like her. He sees himself in them. I think that it’s safe to say that we’ll be preparing a room for her.”
Satou released a breath that seemed to remove all the tension from her shoulders. “Oh, thank you. We’ve been so worried about her, it’s so wonderful to finally find someone like you and your partner who are willing to give her a chance. Shall we?”
Kunikida nodded.
Kurobara was quiet the entire time they went through the paperwork, standing in the corner of the room like a little ghost. Kunikida kept glancing at her to check that she was alive; it was mildly unnerving. Once they finished signing and reading everything, Kunikida handed over the envelope that Fukuzawa had provided. Dazai asked a few questions.
While Dazai and Satou talked, Kunikida turned toward Kurobara. “Do you have any belongings that you’d like to get before we leave?” The girl nodded and made a vague motion for him to follow her. She led him out of the room and down a hall, and instead of watching Kunikida this time, nearly all the other children seemed to be trying to ignore their presence. Kurobara disappeared into a room for a few minutes, then emerged with a small duffel bag hugged to her chest. Kunikida nodded to her, and she nodded back.
Upon returning to the room, Dazai was standing outside with a grin. “Satou said we’re all good to go,” he informed them. “As long as Kurobara here has all her things.” Kunikida noticed that as Dazai mentioned her, she seemed to flinch. Not much, but it was there.
“I believe we’re all set. Kurobara?” The girl nodded, and Dazai smiled at her. “Let’s go then!”
The car ride back was awkward, to say the least. Kurobara didn’t say much aside from responding to Dazai’s attempts at conversing. She was sitting behind the driver’s seat, so Kunikida couldn’t see her very well through the rearview mirror. Dazai was turned around in his own seat to talk to her face-to-face. “We weren’t sure what colors you’d like,” he was telling her, “so we didn’t do much to the room in terms of bedding or the walls. We’ve set aside some money to spend on it, though, so once you settle in don’t be afraid to let us know what you want to do!”
Kurobara nodded. “I like blue,” she replied, seeming tentative. Dazai grinned. “Me too! I have a lot of blue clothes. Which reminds me, I was going to donate some of my old things, but you’re more than welcome to go through it all before I do. There’s some stuff in there that I think would fit you.” The girl made a face but quickly fixed her expression. “I don’t like pants,” she replied, and Dazai blinked. “Oh. Oh, no, don’t worry about that, I dressed super feminine when I was younger. Most of the stuff I’m getting rid of are skirts or dresses or dress shirts that I grew out of.”
“Oh.” Kurobara shifted in her seat. “Okay.” She looked at Kunikida. “Your partner doesn’t talk much, do they?”
Dazai snorted, then covered his mouth. “Oh, you’ll have to excuse him. He’s just bad at multi-tasking.” Kunikida reached over and pushed his shoulder gently. “I can multi-task just fine,” he replied. He peered at the girl through the mirror as best as he could. “I’m sorry if I seem unapproachable. I’m not the best at conversation sometimes, and I don’t want to scare you.” Honesty seemed to be the best policy, as Kurobara just shrugged.
“That’s okay. I’m not good at talking either.”
Kunikida unlocked the front door and held it open, letting Kurobara and Dazai inside. They seemed to have hit it off rather well, to Kunikida’s pleasant surprise. He had been worried that the girl would be distant or difficult, but she appeared to like Dazai quite a bit. The two of them had talked for the better part of the trip, with the topic of conversation ranging wildly, from how calm the river was to the news on the radio. Once they were all inside and the door was closed behind them, Dazai explained to the girl that they hadn’t known what size slipper she would need, so they had set a clean spare set of Dazai’s out for her to borrow until she could get her own. She had blinked, looking surprised by the gesture, and quietly informed them that she did have her own pair in her bag.
Kunikida was currently standing in the kitchen, preparing dinner, watching the meat simmer on the stove as he chopped the vegetables. Dazai was showing Kurobara her room, previously the guest room. They had tidied it up; dusted the ceiling, chased a few spiders out of the dresser drawers, made sure the lightbulb in the lamp was still working, washed the bedstuffs and fluffed the pillows and such. As Dazai had told the girl earlier, they hadn’t known what she would like, so they set aside an amount of money for her to redecorate as she pleased. They both had off work the next day, as it would be Sunday, and Kurobara consequentially had off of school for the same reason, so they would take her shopping then.
Right as Kunikida was preparing to raise his voice to call the two of them for dinner, they came down the hallway. Dazai grinned at Kunikida and all but bounced into the kitchen, throwing his arms around Kunikida’s shoulders and nearly causing him to drop the bowl in his hands. He turned his head and glared at Dazai over the top of his glasses, but only received a grin and a laugh in return. “Is dinner ready, love?” Dazai asked innocently, tilting his head in that way he did when he knew he was being insufferable and was trying to use his adorableness to his own advantage (or, more accurately, Kunikida’s disadvantage.) Kunikida sighed before responding. “Yes, it is. Show Kurobara-youjo the bathroom and wash your hands while I set the table.” Dazai nodded and stepped away again, speaking to Kurobara as they retreated back down the hall.
Kunikida finished scooping the rice into three separate bowls, making sure that they were perfect domes, then topped them with the meat and veggies and placed them at three of the four seats at the table. Kurobara and Dazai returned just as Kunikida was retrieving glasses from the cabinets. “Go ahead and take your seats while I get drinks,” he told them. Kurobara took the seat across from Kunikida’s spot and Dazai plopped himself next to it.
“What would you like to drink, Kurobara-youjo?” Kunikida asked, pouring two glasses of umeshu for him and Dazai. “We have Calpis and Yakult, unless you’d prefer water or tea.” The girl was quiet for a moment, looking between the two men before responding. “Yakult, please.” The words were phrased as an answer, but sounded like a question. Kunikida just nodded and set the glasses of wine at his and Dazai’s spots, then returned to the fridge to get a bottle of Yakult for Kurobara. He found a straw in the silverware drawer and, taking care not to touch the part that would go in her mouth, slid into his seat and passed the beverage across the table to the girl. She nodded her thanks as she took it, hesitantly. After saying their thanks, the three of them began eating in a bit of an awkward silence. Eventually, Kunikida spoke up.
“What honorific do you prefer I call you?” He asked, gesturing to Kurobara with the ends of his chopsticks. “I’ve been saying youjo, but I’d like to know your preference.” The girl blinked, finished her mouthful of rice. “Just ‘Kurobara-chan’ is fine, please,” she replied. Kunikida inclined his head in acknowledgement and sipped at his wine. Dazai looked back and forth between the two of them nervously, and Kunikida rested his free hand on his fiancé’s knee under the table to reassure him. “So, Kurobara-chan,” Kunikida spoke again. “Osamu was showing you around while I cooked. How do you feel about being here?”
Kurobara seemed to think for a moment, setting her chopsticks down next to her bowl. “It’s nice,” she said, not meeting Kunikida’s eyes and instead staring at a corner of her placemat. “You two seem kind, and you also seem to get along well. And you’re a good cook; I don’t usually enjoy donburi with beef, but this is really good.”
Dazai smiled and nudged Kunikida with his elbow as the taller man adjusted his glasses. “We’re glad to hear that, Kurobara-chan,” Dazai replied. “Doppo-kun really is good, right? He’s kept me alive for what, seven years now?” he said, glancing at Kunikida and receiving a nod in response. “Yeah, seven years.” Kurobara nodded, and Kunikida cleared his throat. “I can get fish next time, if that’s what you prefer,” he offered, and the girl shook her head.
“No, no, it’s fine,” she said, shyly waving a dismissive hand. “Like I said, it’s good. I do prefer fish, but I like this. Normally, I can’t stand the texture of beef, but you cooked it well.” Kunikida nodded.
“I see. I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you,” he replied with a small bow of his head.
After their surprisingly (at least, surprising to Kunikida) successful dinner, Kunikida cleared the table while Dazai talked with Kurobara. The girl made to stand, offering to help with the dishes, but Dazai coaxed her back into her seat. “Don’t worry about that, the most you’ll need to worry about with that is rinsing your lunch dishes.” While Kunikida washed their bowls and utensils, he paid a bit of attention to the conversation that the other two were having.
“So, Kurobara-chan,” Dazai was saying, “you’re in eleventh grade?”
“Mm-mh. Twelfth. I skipped a year.”
Kunikida turned around at that, drying his hands off with the dishtowel. “Skipped? How come?”
The girl shrugged, not meeting his eyes. “I wasn’t ever told. I think it was because some didn’t like me being around their kids, and the older ones could handle it better. I skipped second grade, and went right from first to third.” Kunikida couldn’t help his gaze flicking down to her arms when she said that; she had removed her jacket when they had entered, and the sleeves of her uniform shirt were rolled up to her elbows, revealing more of the bandages. It made Kunikida’s heart ache in a certain way, one that he hadn’t felt in a long time. It brought back memories of Dazai; bloody, on the bathroom floor, glass and torn cloth scattered around him. Memories of holding his frail, trembling body underneath a thick blanket while the rain pounded at the windows, tears and snot soaking into his shirt as Dazai cried.
Memories of the first time Kunikida finally saw Dazai bare; no bandages, no masks, nothing shielding him from the chilly air of their bedroom. They had both cried that night, and had fallen asleep holding each other tightly. Kunikida had kissed every. single. scar. Every thin line, every thick jagged edge, every round splash where bullets had kissed his skin prior. And with each kiss he had murmured softly, so softly that he himself could hardly hear it, the words I love you.
Kunikida startled slightly when Dazai set a hand on his shoulder, not even having noticed that his fiancé had left the table. Kunikida blinked and looked at him, noting the concerned look in his eyes. Dazai tilted his head slightly, a silent question. Kunikida shook his own, turning back to the dishes. Later. Dazai got the message and nodded, leaving Kunikida to his thoughts.
Later that night, after Dazai lent Kurobara a clean nightgown, showed her the shower, and started a load of laundry so that her uniform was clean and ready to wear the next day, he tucked himself into bed beside Kunikida and propped himself on his side so that he could observe his face as they spoke.
“Kurobara-chan is settling in nicely,” Dazai said conversationally, nudging Kunikida gently. The man sighed through his nose and sat up, back propped against the headboard. “Yes, I’m glad,” he replied. Dazai tilted his head. “You don’t sound like it,” he observed, sounding a bit wounded. “Is Kunikida-kun jealous?”
Kunikida knew that it was meant to lighten the mood. Really, he did. That was just how Dazai worked. But the words made something in his chest stretch taut.
“I’m scared, Osamu,” he confessed, his voice uncharacteristically vulnerable, shaky. “I’m scared that I won’t be able to help her, help you. She’s just reminding me so much of you and it’s terrifying. Osamu, there was a period of my life where I woke up every day and my first thoughts were ‘I hope he did, too.’ We just got over that, just got to a point where neither of us cry when it’s brought up, and now I’m terrified that I won’t be able to do it again. I’m scared that I’ll be too distant because of it and she’ll hate me. I just-”
Dazai interrupted, shushing him softly, laying his arm over Kunikida’s waist and snuggling closer. Kunikida took a deep breath and rested a hand on Dazai’s head, fingers working through the soft curls methodically. Dazai looked up at him after a moment. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and Kunikida stared at him. “For traumatizing you like that. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault-”
“Yes it is.”
They were quiet for a few minutes after that, Kunikida playing with Dazai’s hair while the man melted into the touch like a cat. He was warm, but Kunikida didn’t mind. It was better than when he was skin and bones and constantly hiding his shivering. Their moment was interrupted, however, by a faint knock on the bedroom door. The men exchanged a glance before Dazai sighed softly. He unstuck himself from Kunikida’s waist and rose, padding over to the door and opening it. Kurobara was standing there, fiddling with her sleeve. She looked so small without her glasses, the borrowed nightgown hanging off of an unfortunately-not-surprisingly thin shoulder.
“Sorry to bother,” she whispered. “Do you have any bandages? I didn’t do anything, mine are just old and itchy.”
“Oh, no need to apologize at all, Kurobara-chan,” Dazai told her with a soft smile. “I think there’s some in the bathroom. Let me go check.”
Kunikida gave Dazai a helpless look and received only a wink in response before he was abandoned with the girl. He cleared his throat awkwardly and tried to think of something to say, but Kurobara beat him to it.
“I heard you guys talking,” she confessed, not quite looking at him. “I’m sorry. I understand if you want to send me back.”
Kunikida’s reaction was immediate. “Absolutely not,” he said, rubbing his eyes as he sat up fully, swinging his legs over so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He patted the space next to him in invitation. The girl hesitated before padding over, taking a seat next to him but not too closely. She was tense. “Is that what you think? That we’ll send you back if it gets too hard?” Another moment passed before she nodded. Internally, Kunikida was seething.
Not at her, of course not. At the people who had made her this way, made her this scared.
“Has that happened before?” Another nod. Kunikida took a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts.
“I promise you that that will not be the case,” he told her, tone firm yet gentle. “I am not the kind of man who just gives up, nor is Osamu. If we were, then we never would’ve made it this far. If I let myself give up just because something was ‘too hard,’ I never would have made it far enough to propose to him, and he likely wouldn’t be here at all. We’re not sending you back, Kurobara-chan. And I promise that I’ll try my hardest to understand your struggles and help in any way that I can.”
Kunikida took a moment to breathe while he observed the girl’s reaction. She was quiet, looking down at her hands in her lap, and Kunikida was worried that he might have overwhelmed or scared her. He thought he had managed to keep his tone a lot less passionate than he was feeling but maybe not. Maybe-
“Thank you,” the girl said simply. She raised her head and finally looked Kunikida in the eyes. He blinked. “I appreciate that. A lot. You guys are… different. In a really nice way.” She fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve. “I’m not used to it. People in general, to be honest, but especially people treating me like I’m…”
Kunikida nodded, placing a tentative hand lightly on her shoulder to let her know that she didn’t need to explain. She tensed slightly under the touch, and Kunikida made to retreat, but she leaned her head over, trapping his hand there. She gave a soft hum, and Kunikida smiled. Progress.
A gentle knock sounded at the doorway, and Kunikida looked up to find Dazai grinning at them, tossing a roll of bandages up and catching it.
“Right,” he said, and Kurobara straightened. “Let’s get you to bed, hm?”