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Chuuya weaved his tricycle between the plant pots, back and forth, getting quicker and quicker with each turn. Daddy always told him not to ride too fast, but Daddy was too busy with his meetings to be paying attention right now, so what could he do? He managed to zig zag between the flowerbeds without trampling any of the flowers (this time), tyres skidding as he finished with a flourish.
As he came to a stop, he scowled over in the direction of the fence, at the boy hanging over it who'd been staring at him for ages. Chuuya couldn’t tell time yet but he was sure it had been hundreds of hours.
The two of them engaged in a short staring contest as both refused to be the first to look away. The silence was broken shortly with a -
“Hey guess what?” the boy said excitedly, rocking side to side as if he couldn’t contain himself, “We’re soulmates!”
A beat.
“I don’t care, you’re stupid,” Chuuya turned his attention back to pedalling through his little obstacle course.
The boy lit up as if this was exactly what he’d wanted to hear, gleefully kicking his little legs while still hung over the fence, beginning to hum a bit as well.
After a few more minutes, Chuuya slowed down again to face the other boy with crossed arms, feet resting on the tricycle pedals, “So do you wanna play or not?”
“Kay,” the boy jumped over the fence with ease, “What should we play?”
Chuuya only had one tricycle and didn’t want to share.
“Let’s play pirates,” he decided. “Wanna see my pirate hat? It’s really cool.”
-
Rimbaud opened the French patio doors to call Chuuya in for snacks.
“Chuuya-bean! Time to come in!” Rimbaud called through the gap of the door as he finished plating up some sandwiches.
Chuuya had always been good at playing by himself so it wasn’t a cause for concern that the boy had been outside for so long.
Rimbaud craned his neck out of the door, “Just have a little something to eat and you can go back to - oh.”
He was met with the sight of Chuuya, who had quite obviously used the garden ornaments as stepping stones so he could stand on the table, pirate hat askew on his forehead, holding a long stick and pointing it toward - Rimbaud blinked - a playmate (how exactly had he gained another child?) (where had this child come from?) (who were the parents, exactly…?) - who had a bandage covering one eye, presumably as a makeshift eyepatch. He was clumsily tied to a garden chair with rope tightly wound around his wrists, giggling gleefully as if he were being tickled rather than restrained (Rimbaud internally cursed his husband for leaving the shed unlocked again, letting the children get their hands on dangerous things like rope that they could seriously get hurt with - he had told Paul time and time again how important it was to make sure that shed was always locked when they had a small child in the house -)
He immediately rushed over to untie this unexpected guest that had shown up in his garden. He removed the bandage, hoping the boy wouldn't develop a stye, and rubbed the kid’s wrists, hoping above all hopes there would be no marks of his son’s (...mischief? physical violence? Seriously, how did parenting work - just where was the line between childhood naivety and symptoms of psychopathy?) Relief flooded his veins when the child smiled up at him toothily and appeared to be entirely unscathed, rope indentations disappearing as the seconds passed.
“Papa! Don’t let him go!" Chuuya yelled, brandishing his stick in the air, "This bad pirate tried stealing my treasure map! Arg, it’s time for him to walk the plank."
The ‘plank’ appeared to be a real plank taken from the shed, placed precariously at the edge of the table on the side facing the pavement… if either one of the children even tried to step on it, they would immediately tumble to the hard ground, getting seriously hurt and possibly even fracturing a bone.
“Chuuya, sweetie… why don’t you bring your friend inside for some snacks first - and then you can play together some more?” Rimbaud forced a smile on his face, deciding to ignore Chuuya standing on the furniture (dangerous, something he knew he wasn't allowed to do) in favour of the more pressing issue of n+1, where n was his son, and +1 was the random child he was now responsible for somehow. “Come on then, boys - leave the sticks outside. The rope too, we don’t need it. PAUL! I TOLD YOU TO KEEP THE GARDEN SHED LOCKED!”
Rimbaud ushered the kids in, getting them settled at the kitchen table (after they’d washed their hands of course), placing sandwiches, fruit, and little plastic cups of orange squash in front of them.
“Chuuya, you remember what Papa told you about playing carefully with your friends? And how we don’t go into Daddy’s shed when he leaves it unlocked?” Rimbaud tried carefully, watching Chuuya shove blueberries in his mouth by the fistful.
“But he wanted to be tied up!” Chuuya pointed at the other child accusingly, mouth full.
“I like being tied up - I do it all the time at home,” the other kid agreed with a nod, sipping his squash daintily.
“That's… nice,” Rimbaud grimaced, wondering exactly how to explain to Chuuya that tying people up was never acceptable - even if they asked you to. For now though, there were more pressing matters -
“So… what’s your friend’s name, Chuuya?” he probed instead.
Chuuya was busy taking the crusts off his sandwiches, “Dunno.”
“My name is Osamu Dazai and I am five years old,” the kid said proudly.
“I see... And where are your mummy and daddy, or daddy and daddy, or mummy and mummy then, Osamu?” Rimbaud asked, trying to figure out where the boy came from - there were no other children on their street that he knew of, and he wasn’t familiar with that surname, so maybe from a different street in the neighbourhood? Or perhaps he was a kindergarten friend of Chuuya’s whose parents had dropped him off for a playdate from outside without bothering to inform him?
“Papa and Daddy are at home,” answered Dazai, picking up a sandwich.
“And where exactly is home, Osamu?”
“Home is there,” he pointed vaguely in the general direction of the front door.
Not very helpful.
“Do your daddies know you’re here playing with Chuuya?” Rimbaud tried.
“No.” He took a big bite of his sandwich, as if this were entirely unproblematic.
Rimbaud could feel the stress rise in his chest. He took a deep breath, trying to remain as patient as he could. It would certainly not help matters if he upset either of the children or caused Osamu to baulk when faced with a panicked and shouty stranger.
“Paul, get over here!” he said loudly over his shoulder, voice wavering.
Turning back to Dazai, “By any chance, do you remember your address or your parents’ telephone number?”
Dazai looked back at him, and Rimbaud could’ve sworn he was assessing his options, which he knew was a ridiculous thing to think about a five-year-old but -
“No,” he said eventually, reaching for the blueberries.
“Have this one. It’s the biggest,” Chuuya dropped one from his fist into Dazai’s.
“Do you remember either one of your fathers’ names?” Rimbaud tried again.
“Yes,” Dazai nodded at once, “They’re called Papa and Daddy.”
“His name is also Papa,” Chuuya pointed to Rimbaud.
“PAUL!” Rimbaud said over his shoulder once more, louder now. Dammit, this was a real emergency , they’d basically kidnapped this child -
“Eh?” Verlaine stumbled in, wearing full office attire, loosening his tie a little - like he always did the minute he stepped out of the office.
“Papa, why’re you shouting?” a voice yelled from upstairs, “I’m trying to study .”
“That’s Kouyou,” Chuuya said to Dazai, “She’s nice but she never plays pirates.”
“Paul, we seem to have a little guest,” Rimbaud hissed, nodding his head in Dazai’s direction, “And I have no clue where he came from!”
“Ah…” Paul began, looking at Dazai for a beat too long, as if the news had completely washed his head of any thoughts. “...ah.”
“ Well ??? What do we do? Do we call the police? Oh gosh - how did he even get in here, what if they think we’re kidnappers? -”
“You’re calling the police?” Chuuya looked terrified, “Just cause I tied up Osamu?”
“Well - obviously don’t tell them that, sweetheart,” Verlaine elbowed Rimbaud, wiggling his eyebrows, “they might really think we kidnapped him then, eh?”
“It’s okay, Chuuya, I’ll tell them it was my idea,” Dazai promised.
“ No. No, Chuuya-bean, of course we’re not calling the police, baby…” Rimbaud threw his husband a furious glare as he gave his son a quick hug.
The doorbell rang.
They all ignored it, Rimbaud pinching the bridge of his nose and counting down from ten.
“Okay,” Verlaine’s tone dropped, “I’ll call the you-know-who , you grab yourself a glass of water, okay? And sit down, you’re looking a little pale, love.”
The doorbell rang again.
“You’re probably right,” Rimbaud placed his hand on his forehead, letting Verlaine lead him to the nearest available seat.
-
Kouyou pushed herself away from her desk, grumbling as she headed down to answer the persistent doorbell. She knew her dads were both downstairs - why didn’t one of them just open the goddamn door?
Honestly, it was so annoying, especially when she had a maths test the next day she was trying to revise for -
She threw the door open, ready to snap something at whichever door-to-door salesman was in front of -
“Oh.”
“Oh - hey,” he smiled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh - so…”
Was Kouyou breathing? She couldn’t tell. She stood, holding the door open, hoping she looked like a normal person -
“Uh - my name’s Suckusuke Oda.”
“S -”
“ Sakunosuke . Sakunosuke Oda,” he tried again, face now a deep red colour, eyes unable to meet Kouyou’s. “I was just - uh - I was just -” he took a deep breath as if to recalibrate himself. “I just moved in over there,” he was now looking at his feet, pointing over his shoulder, “and my brother - I was just wondering - is my brother here?”
Kouyou released a shaky breath, “Well, uh - welcome…welcome to the neighbourhood.” Kouyou recalled her irritation toward the moving vans in the early hours of the morning, how she’d complained her impatience to Papa and blamed the constant noise for getting in the way of her revision - all emotions that felt in the very distant past, now that she was met with the outcome of such hardship. Every time her focus slipped for a moment she found herself looking at him once more, drinking in his features.
“Um - thank you,” his lips quirked in a shy smile.
Silence settled. The tension grew a knot in Kouyou’s stomach. She wracked her brain for something to say, but -
“My - my brother. He’s five years old - dark hair and eyes…is he here? I-I’m only asking because he’s - uh - kind of the type to, you know - just - uh - just wander off, you know -”
“Oh, uh - I don’t think so. Chuuya - my brother, that is - doesn’t have any playdates planned today…”
Kouyou’s eyes met his. One second passed, and another. Kouyou felt her pulse in her throat, but it was Oda who looked away first, face so red now.
“But, uh - I can ask my dads, if you - you know -” she motioned behind herself, deeper into the house.
“Oh - oh yeah,” Oda plucked at the collar of his shirt nervously, “Yeah - yeah, sure.”
-
As Kouyou pushed open the living room door, she could immediately sense that something was very, very wrong.
Rimbaud looked hysterical, holding Verlaine by the lapel of his shirt as he hissed something to him. Verlaine looked panicked and was clutching a phone tightly in his grip.
“They said they’d be here in the next ten minutes or so,” he was saying.
“And what about when they do come? We tried everything and couldn’t extract more information from the kid, so I really doubt they’ll get much more out of him - and Chuuya will be terrified to see the police after that stupid joke of yours -”
“Honey, I said I’m sorry! Chuuya’s probably already forgotten about it, you know how kids are!”
“He’s hiding from us right now!” Rimbaud threw his arms up.
“Don’t be silly, I’m sure he’s just playing with his new friend -”
“Well if we lose said friend after calling the police, what d’you think will happen? They’ll definitely think it’s some kind of child trafficking scenario - DAMMIT why did we let them out of our sight ?! CHUUYA! CHUUYA!” Rimbaud started shouting, heading toward the stairway.
“ Dad!” Kouyou hissed, cheeks tinged with pink in embarrassment over what Oda must be thinking, “What’s going on? What are you guys doing?”
Both men paused, clearly only just noticing her - and in extension, Oda’s - presence.
They stared at Oda in confusion, eyes hostile and impatient.
“H-hi,” Oda said weakly, raising his hand. “My - I - uh, I’m Sabun- Saku nosuke Oda - we moved in new - uh - across the street -”
“So , why are you here?” Rimbaud scowled.
“Papa! You’re being rude,” Kouyou scowled back.
“Well, um,” Oda jumped in instantly, before the awkwardness grew, “My brother - he’s about yay tall, dark hair and eyes, and he’s -”
“Osamu Dazai?” Verlaine interrupted urgently.
Oda clicked both his fingers, finger gunning Verlaine - though thankfully both adults were so mentally preoccupied that they didn’t notice his awkward blunder. “Yes!”
“Oh, thank the heavens,” Rimbaud closed his eyes and tipped his head back, looking as if he might drop to the ground in relief.
“See! What’d I tell ya?? Nothing to worry about,” Verlaine said loudly, though he had been equally tense just moments before. “Now let’s just call the kids down so Osamu Dazai can go back to where he belongs with this chap, and we can all just have a nice glass of wine after.”
“Oh, yes, yes. The kids…” Rimbaud looked giddy as he headed towards the staircase, “Chuuya! Chuuya-bean? Come on down, and bring your friend with you!”
"Sorry for the bother he's caused…" Oda apologised sheepishly, scratching his cheek.
Rimbaud simply waved a hand flippantly, too relieved to acknowledge the statement beyond that.
The next couple minutes were spent in awkward silence waiting for the children as Oda hovered uncomfortably, not sure of what to say, and Kouyou tried to piece together exactly what had been going on while she was studying.
“Chuuya?” Rimbaud tried again, “Come down, sweetie. Now.”
Chuuya’s head poked through the bannister, “No.”
“Chuuya…” Rimbaud’s smile was clearly very strained, “Do as you’re told.”
“I don’t want Osamu to go home, we’re playing,” Chuuya insisted, crossing his arms. A flash of brown from over his shoulder revealed Dazai was hiding behind him.
“I know you want to play but it’s time for Osamu to go home now.” His voice was firm. “You can play some other time.”
“Osamu!” Oda found his voice again to call exasperatedly, “Playtime’s over, let’s go.”
“I don’t want to,” Dazai stepped out from behind Chuuya to scowl down at Oda, “You can go but I’m staying with Chuuya.”
“Osamu, just come down,” Oda groaned, “I’ll bring you over tomorrow - uh, if that’s okay with you of course…” The last part was aimed at the hosts, spoken with an embarrassed look.
“Hm? Oh yes, yes, of course.”
“No!” Chuuya scowled.
“Chuuya… when little boys don’t listen to their parents, the pol-”
“Don’t you dare threaten him with the po - the cops!” Rimbaud snapped, sharply elbowing his husband.
It was another five minutes of back and forth before Oda had enough, marching upstairs and simply picking Dazai up by the arms.
“Odasaku noooo.”
“Come on Osamu, Dad and Papa are waiting,” Oda tickled Dazai’s underarms to gain compliance before settling him onto his back to carry him down.
Kouyou’s cheeks pinkened as she watched the interaction, hands covering her mouth as she internally gushed, her stomach clenching. Who was this super cute boy and where had he come from, omigosh —-
When Oda caught sight of her he instantly blushed a deep red, almost stumbling and dropping the kid down the stairs.
“Chuuya, say bye to Osamu now. Maybe tomorrow I can take you both to the park if that’s okay with Osamu’s parents,” called Verlaine, probably trying to score points with his son (for the police threat) and his husband (the doghouse was a cold, dark place in the Verlaine-Rimbaud household…)
Chuuya, who’d been pouting, brightened at the prospect of going to the park with his new friend. He waved from the top of the staircase, “Bye bye Osamu!”
Dazai lit up as he stopped struggling in Oda’s hold to wave back, “Bye Chuuya!”
Rimbaud accompanied Oda and Dazai to the door, grimacing as he saw the sun had already begun to set, “Oh your poor parents must be frantic - I mean, if I didn't know exactly where my Chuuya was for even a second -”
“Well, actually… we - had a pretty good idea of where he was…” Oda smiled awkwardly.
-
EARLIER THAT DAY
“Odasaku! Odasakuuuuu! Come onnnnn,” Dazai yanked Oda’s arm, pulling on his sleeve, “I wanna go to house number 12.”
He tried dragging his brother along, though Oda exasperatedly shook him off.
“Not now, kid, go unpack your - uh - ropes. We can say hi to the neighbours later -”
“They’re not our neighbours, silly Odasaku!” Dazai rolled his eyes, “I wanna go now ! Let’s gooooo.”
“How about this?” sighed Oda, barely looking at his brother as he moved one of the boxes around in the living room, “I’ll give you a candy for every time you go and bother someone else that isn’t me.”
He affectionately flicked Dazai’s forehead.
“Papa said the same thing,” Dazai smugly showed him his pockets full of candy. “I’m gonna take them to house number 12.”
“Good plan,” Oda was barely paying attention anymore, “Dad! Where do you want me to move the cabinet?”
“Odasakuuuuuuuu,” Dazai whined, going to stand directly in front of the cabinet. “Stop ignoring me!”
Oda wiped his brow as he looked down at his little brother bemusedly. Dazai wasn’t the most social kid in the world - he didn’t have any friends, usually preferring his own company at school or at parks, too precocious to really get along with kids his own age - this sudden fascination he’d developed for the neighbours was kind of bizarre.
“How come you want to go so badly, huh?” he raised a brow, “They have something in the house that caught your eye?”
Maybe they had a backyard pool or something.
“I saw my soulmate there!” Dazai announced excitedly.
“... come again.”
“My soulmate,” Dazai repeated slowly, “Like Daddy and Papa are soulmates.”
“ Ah… ” Oda smiled, biting back his amusement, “So they’ve been telling you stories about soulmates, huh? And now you think you’ve met yours… “
Oda did recall briefly spotting a child Dazai’s age playing in the opposite house’s garden when they’d gotten out of the car about an hour ago.
“Have you actually - spoken to this kid?”
“Nope,” Dazai answered easily, “That’s why I have to go to house number 12, so I can tell him.”
As cute as Oda found it that Dazai would just spontaneously decide some random kid was his 'soulmate’, him actually saying that to the kid could be somewhat problematic…
“Riiiight. Hey Osamu, you might want to speak to Dad first… before you go telling people you’re soulmates.”
Dazai scowled at his brother, giving up to go look for his daddy instead.
Outside, Mori stood directing a small group of moving van men on which room to drop off each box, clapping them on the back as they passed and helping them (though notably, his support was moral rather than physical ) navigate the larger furniture through the front door. The gaggle of people was barely aided by Fukuzawa, who was already unboxing the kitchen and shouting for which kitchen items were missing (“Ougai, where are the saucepans!”), as if there weren’t boxes yet to be brought inside. The garden and lawn area was busy with vehicles and people.
“Daddy! We have to go to number 12!” Dazai exclaimed loudly, showing his Daddy the fistfuls of sweets he had. “See!”
Mori did not bother to question the connection between sweets and their neighbours. “Sure, how about we go later once all the boxes are inside? Do you want to help Papa with the kitchen for a while - I think he has some pans and spoons for you to make a racket with. Ah - but don’t tell him that was my idea, okay?” he ruffled Dazai’s hair and turned his attention back to what he was doing.
“No, Daddy! My soulmate’s there - see ?” pulling up his shirt and exposing his tummy and the words scrawled across it: I don’t care, you’re stupid .
Mori instantly stiffened, crouching so he was in Dazai’s eyeline. “Has someone said those words to you, Osamu? What did they look like? Were they an adult?”
“No one’s said it yet . But they will ,” Dazai said insistently, pouting, still holding up his shirt and exposing his soulmate mark - the first words he will hear his soulmate say - as if the existence of said mark was evidence enough to further his point. “He’s a tiny chibi and he’s my soulmate.”
Mori visibly relaxed. Did ‘tiny chibi’ translate to similarly-aged child - and if so, had Mori’s antisocial youngest son, for some reason, decided to make a friend? “Of course, kiddo. How about you help Papa with unpacking for a while, and as soon as these moving van people are gone I’ll take you over.”
Dazai’s face scrunched up in annoyance. He dropped his shirt and stomped off.
Mori smiled fondly as he watched his son trample back into the house.
-
“Osamu-kun, there you are! Sakunosuke tells me you’ve made a new friend?”
To say that Fukuzawa was relieved at the prospect of Dazai making his very first friend would be quite an understatement…
He was in the process of setting up the utensil drawer when Dazai grabbed fistfuls of his papa’s seaweed green yukata, pulling at the material around his legs. “Papaaaaaa! No one’s taking me to house number 12.”
“Osamu-kun, everyone’s just a bit busy right now,” Fukuzawa wilfully ignored the incessant pulling at his leg as he continued unpacking, “Can you be a little patient for a while until your brother can take you? And then you can meet your new friend and tell us all about him.”
As he walked to the kitchen island to pick up a box of forks, Dazai still clung to his leg, getting dragged along with him.
“He’s not my friend,” Dazai sniffed angrily, squashed up against his papa, “He’s my soulmate .”
Fukuzawa almost dropped a box of forks. “Ah - is that so…?” After a brief moment of shock he winced, “Osamu, just - make sure you don’t say that to your new friend when you first meet him, okay? It might make him uncomfortable.”
“Even if it’s true?” He looked up, giving Fukuzawa a disbelieving look.
What they didn’t tell you in the parenting books was how often you’d have to lie to your own kid just to keep them out of trouble. Especially if the child was as unpredictable as this one.
Fukuzawa sighed, picking his son up and propping him against his hip, “Yes, Osamu.”
“Papa, you don’t know anything ,” Dazai’s voice was firm as he pulled away from his papa, wriggling so hard Fukuzawa had no choice but to lower him back to the floor.
“Osamu-kun,” Fukuzawa’s tone stern, “We don’t talk to our parents like -”
But Osamu had already darted out of the room, most likely to evade his telling-off.
Fukuzawa sighed, shaking his head and pulling open another box.
-
“Ougai, is Osamu with you?” called Fukuzawa, suddenly noticing how quiet the house had gotten.
“No, I haven’t seen him for a while, come to think of it… I assume he’s with Sakunosuke,” Mori came into the kitchen, setting down the box with the airfryer.
“Oh that reminds me - did Sakunosuke tell you?” Fukuzawa’s eyes shone, “Osamu made a friend.”
“Ah… you mean the neighbour's kid,” Mori replied knowingly, “Well, ‘friend’ isn’t the term I would use just yet… but we hope.”
“He’s finally starting to take an interest in kids his own age,” Fukuzawa shook his head with relief, “I guess I can cancel that appointment with the child psychologist...”
“Has he told you -” Mori’s mouth twitched, “They’re soulmates .”
Fukuzawa rolled his eyes fondly, “Ah yes, he was convinced of it… not sure if that’s something to ignore for now or to nip right in the bud? Where did he even get that idea from?”
“Oh, he’s just mirroring what he’s observed,” Mori smiled to himself, “He’s modelling his own interactions with peers after what he’s seen of you and I - since we’re soulmates, that’s what he’s then emulating with this other child. Think of it as a child’s roleplay game.”
“Still…” muttered Fukuzawa, “We can’t let him go around calling people his soulmate .”
“It’s just another kid - what’s the harm?” Mori shrugged, “If it were an adult, that’d be different of course. But as it is, I’m just glad he’s started to take an interest in forming friendships.”
“True.” Fukuzawa conceded, though still a bit unsure. “Well, we might as well take him over to say hi to the neighbours. We should go before it gets late - and I’ll take some of these muffins for them so they’re not too annoyed by us suddenly showing up at their door.”
“We’ll tell them we’re just dropping by to introduce ourselves,” Mori suggested, “It’s probably best not to let Osamu get carried away in front of the adults…”
Fukuzawa nodded his agreement before calling up the stairs, “Osamu! Come on down, let’s go see your new friend!”
When there was no response, both men shared a look.
“Osamu? Let’s go to house number 12!”
Still nothing.
“He’s not already over the idea of having a friend is he?” Fukuzawa looked genuinely worried.
Realisation was dawning on Mori, “I don’t think it’s that…”
“So you’re finally taking him over there, huh?” Oda chuckled as he strolled into the kitchen, opening the fridge to take out a Monster, “You know what he’s been going around saying? Well turns out that’s where his ‘soulmate’ lives. Allegedly .”
Both fathers were staring at him with unamused expressions.
“Hey, I thought it was cute.” Oda shrugged.
“Sakunosuke,” Fukuzawa’s voice was eerily calm, “Where’s Osamu…?”
“Uh I dunno - I thought he was with you guys.”
“Well, I suppose that’s why it’s been so quiet.”
“Well, considering he’s been at that house for - probably - some hours now, he must be getting along with that child at least,” Mori pointed out.
“Or - the parents are keeping him there because he’s a child that just showed up at their house unattended,” Fukuzawa hissed, starting to lead the way to the front door, “You know the kind of children who do that? Neglected ones.”
“They’ll understand it’s a honest mistake,” Mori assured him, “Children get out. And besides, Osamu knows the new address and our phone numbers by heart so if the parents were concerned they would have contacted us already. Or just dropped him off.”
Fukuzawa shook his head in disbelief, “But - the moving people would’ve seen him run out even if we didn’t, and I know I locked the door immediately after they’d all gone… how and when did he even get out?”
“Well…” Mori stopped just at the front door, “... looks like that little mystery has been solved.”
There was a step stool placed by the front door that was just the right height for Dazai to be able to reach the lock easily. The key was still in the keyholder on the wall too high for Dazai to reach even with the help of a stool, so most likely he had picked the lock instead. Candies were scattered on the floor, clearly having spilled out while Dazai had been fiddling with the lock.
Fukuzawa just sighed, making a mental note to keep the appointment with the child psychologist.
“Sakunosuke,” Mori massaged his temple as he turned to their elder son, “... Go bring your brother back.”