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Ritsuka and Mafuyu were on babysitting duty tonight, looking after Ritsuka’s niece, Mutsuki. Take-chan and Yayoi were off on a much-needed date night, really their first night out together since the baby was born. They were going out to dinner and to see Kokuhou, a popular movie about Kabuki dancers, so they would be gone for around four hours.
“Call us if you need us,” Yayoi reminded, giving Ritsuka a squeeze on the shoulder.
“We’ll be fine,” Mafuyu replied easily, brushing a stray lock of hair from Mutsuki’s forehead.
Ritsuka’s eyes were wide, taking in the tiny, perfect life in his arms. He could barely speak, terrified he might accidentally hurt her. His hands felt enormous and clumsy around her tiny body, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to let go.
“We’ll see you in a few hours,” Mafuyu offered. He noticed the tension in Ritsuka’s posture and leaned close.
“You’ve got this,” he reassured as they both dropped down in front of the sofa in the living room.
Mafuyu began to sing softly, playful and buoyant, his eyes on Mutsuki as she smiled. It wasn’t a lullaby—it was Hetakuso, a song Mafuyu had written for Given about all the communication difficulties he and Ritsuka had early on. The incongruity made Ritsuka glance at him in surprise.
Itsumo boku wa hetakuso
Omou you ni hanasenai
Kitto kimi mo hetakuso
Itsumo sunao ni narenai
Douse bokura hetakuso
Omou you ni wa ikanai kara sa
Ritsuka listened, a little confused by the words and melody, feeling both surprised and charmed. After a moment, he hesitantly joined in, his voice tentative at first, then gradually steady:
Itsumo boku wa hetakuso…
Ritsuka felt a warmth in his chest, realizing he could love this little life—and this grown man singing to her—at the same time.
Mutsuki lay asleep in Ritsuka’s arms and barely stirred. She woke once, a bit disoriented, a soft fuss escaping her lips.
Mafuyu tilted his head, listening for a moment. “I think she’s hungry. I’ll go prepare her bottle.”
He stood carefully and disappeared into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with the bottle prepared exactly according to Yayoi’s written instructions, the milk warm but not hot. He handed it over gently.
Ritsuka adjusted Mutsuki in his arms with painstaking care, one hand supporting her head just like Yayoi had shown him earlier. When the bottle touched her lips, she latched immediately, tiny hands curling reflexively against his shirt.
Ritsuka froze for a second, eyes wide.
“She’s… eating,” he whispered, awe creeping into his voice.
Mafuyu smiled softly. “That’s usually what hungry babies do.”
Ritsuka ignored the tease, completely absorbed. He watched every swallow, every small movement of her mouth, like he was witnessing something miraculous. His thumb brushed lightly over her cheek, almost reverent.
When she finished, Mafuyu gestured. “Burp her.”
Right. Burping.
Ritsuka shifted her upright against his shoulder, patting her back with exaggerated gentleness, terrified he might do it wrong. A tiny burp escaped a moment later.
Ritsuka’s face lit up like he had just achieved something monumental.
“Kamisama,” he breathed.
Mafuyu laughed quietly, warmth flooding his expression. “You’re doing great.”
She settled back down again in his arms, content and sleepy. A drama played softly on the television, the volume low, more background than anything else.
Later came the inevitable diaper change. The diaper came off easily, but cleanup required—and Ritsuka hesitated, unsure what to do.
Mafuyu glanced at Ritsuka with a teasing smirk. “You do that for me all the time after you…”
Ritsuka’s head snapped up, eyes flashing, and he cut him off quietly. “Not in front of her.” Mafuyu’s grin was soft, conspiratorial, and Ritsuka’s lips twitched despite himself.
Mafuyu chuckled softly, leaning in to press a warm kiss to Ritsuka’s cheek. “I think our secret is safe for now.” Ritsuka’s lips curved into a small, grateful smile.
The evening wore on in quiet, domestic rhythm. When Take-chan and Yayoi returned, the scene in the living room made them pause for a moment. Ritsuka was sitting cross-legged on the floor, Mutsuki cradled gently in his arms, and he was rocking her softly. Mafuyu, meanwhile, had fallen asleep beside him, head resting lightly against Ritsuka’s shoulder, breathing calm and even. Ritsuka’s hand rested lightly on Mafuyu’s back, reluctant to disturb even a single breath.
Ritsuka was singing Hetakuso again, softly, playful and tender, as he held both Mutsuki and Mafuyu asleep:
Itsumo boku wa hetakuso
Omou you ni hanasenai
Kitto kimi mo hetakuso
Itsumo sunao ni narenai
Douse bokura hetakuso
Omou you ni wa ikanai kara sa
“It’s late,” Take-chan said softly after a moment. “Why don’t you two just stay over?”
Ritsuka blinked, a little startled. “Are you sure?”
“Of course,” Yayoi said, smiling warmly. “You’ve done enough tonight.”
Take-chan laid out a futon for them in the living room while Yayoi gently took Mutsuki from Ritsuka’s arms. She leaned over and kissed her brother’s cheek.
“Good night,” she said softly.
Then she kissed Mafuyu’s cheek too, just as naturally. “Thank you both. It was wonderful to get out.”
Mafuyu smiled, a little shy but pleased. “We’re happy to help.”
The bedroom door closed quietly behind them.
Ritsuka and Mafuyu crawled into the futon together, the room dim and peaceful. Almost immediately, Ritsuka wrapped his arms around Mafuyu, pulling him close, face tucked into his shoulder.
Mafuyu grinned in the darkness. “I was getting jealous,” he murmured. “You were holding our niece all night.”
The words hit Ritsuka like a physical force.
Our niece.
He hadn’t realized until that moment that the word our could include him like this—so naturally, so easily—like a future he was allowed to stand inside.
His throat tightened suddenly, emotion rising before he could stop it. Mafuyu shifted slightly, noticing.
“Hey… what’s wrong?”
Ritsuka shook his head against him, voice rough. “Nothing. Just—”
He swallowed hard.
“I love you,” he finished quietly.
Mafuyu’s arms tightened around him in return, warm and certain.
“I know,” he said softly.