Archive of Our Own

It begins, like all great things do, with an email from the school. More accurately, it begins with several emails from the school, sent to his work email. Most of the school's emails are bullshit; bake sales and PTA meetings. It makes sense, he tells them, implores them, really, that he's set them all to go to spam.

The emails wouldn't be a problem if the twins hadn't decided on writing a report all about how their Auntie's "secret doctor" job had her "making people feel better with pills" for career day. And that, perchance, could have been explained as a hilarious misunderstanding.

But no, Megumi just had to open his mouth.

"It's not Megumi's fault," Suguru hisses, hands cupping a mug of tea as he leans over the kitchen table. "It's on us for not teaching them to be more careful with what they say."

"I think it's on Satoru for the emails," comes Shoko's scathing, level reply. "Not only do we have to show our faces after everything, but there's only one night left, so now, we get to find a babysitter."

Satoru raises a finger. "We could ask Yaga. He's got a kid."

"Then Megumi'll go on about the strange man in his house during show and tell next Friday. Which'll make this all so much better."

"Great," Setting his mug down, Suguru draws a sharp breath. He runs his hands through his hair, "So we're fucked."

Satoru nods. "Yeah, that about sums it up."

There's a long silence as the three, individually, consider the clusterfuck they've been mired in. It's not nobody's fault. Really. Definitely not his. The emails could have been a one-off.

From across the table, a chair screeches as it's pulled back. Shoko stands with a rare kind of conviction. She clears her throat, and firmly plants two palms on the surface.

"Boys," She intones, head swivelling back and forth. "All of this is fixable."

They exchange looks. Suguru seems to share his opinion: their friend, part-time roommate, and dearly-needed voice of reason has been possessed. None of this is fixable.

Some social worker, probably one who's freshly-graduated and ready to change the world by squirreling Megumi and Tsumiki into foster care, is going to show up, jot some notes on her clipboard, and that will be that. He'll be lucky to get visitation.

"The first rule of dealing with the CFA agents is to understand that they, categorically, do not want to have to do anything."

Satoru has no idea what CFA even stands for. Maybe child family something or other. Whoever's responsible for protecting children from actual abuse or neglect should be interested in doing something. This does not seem correct. Suguru, however, is nodding.

"So we gotta be cool. We can't act all scared. We have to understand that we have nothing to fear. These are lazy, lazy people, boys."

Man, and he thought the sorcery world was fucked.

"Second rule. We gotta make this place clean, but not too clean. Kids live here, but not all the time. Sometimes they're at school. We clean up after them," Shoko folds her arms. "Satoru, underwear goes in the hamper or the drawer. Suguru, you can leave the Nanako's trucks on the carpet, not in the dollhouse."

"That was one time, and I picked it up. I picked it up," Satoru repeats. He doesn't dare look to his left for backup, but it comes anyway and frags him right in the face.

"Three times. You had it in the cutlery drawer."

Thank you, Suguru. You are very dear to my heart, Suguru.

He glares at the aforementioned man, and like the adult he is, sticks out his tongue. "I assume we don't mention the whole murder-suicide thing, either."

Before he can retort, Shoko claps her hands together. "No, we do not. We get our stories straight, but not too straight. Mainly on how we came into possessing four kids before we turned twenty-five. We coach the kids on all the wizard shit."

They nod, and both agree that this is a halfway decent plan, one much better than anything else they could have pulled out of their asses..

This plan does not answer the problem of the emails. He has inadvertently given them a solution: there are still slots open for parent-teacher interviews, they're just all on Friday and all at 8:30 pm. Damn. Teachers must not have social lives.

They agree that given the implications of Megumi's latest "what I did this weekend" report, Satoru should try and placate his teacher into believing that he was not some common thug and there was a great reason behind all of this.

Suguru had insisted on taking the twins. They feel comfortable with him, they certainly wouldn't go with Satoru (ouch), their teacher already knew him. The only issue was that the twins had made out their Auntie to sound like Walter Hartwell White.

Did that make him Jesse? No. He was definitely more of a Gus.

In any case, this meant Suguru got Tsumiki. Satoru's not sure why he'd be peeved about that. Tsumiki's an angel. That was sure to be way less awkward than the others.

He pulls up to the kids' school in the Range Rover, despite numerous protests that the subway would be faster and easier.

"You just want a chance to show off," Megumi says, scowling from his booster seat. "Suguru says your driving sucks and your car's an eyesore."

"That's—" Adjusting the rearview mirror, Satoru sputters. "That's not very nice, and he shouldn't have said that."

Suguru, he notes, does not dispute this. He does not apologize, either. Shoko, wedged between the twins, snickers.

"Whatever."

Getting Megumi out of the car is an even worse ordeal than having him in there to begin with. The little shit loses his mind once he realizes he's not sticking with his sister for most of the evening, and worse, Tsumiki gets to go with Suguru. He kicks and he screams and Satoru is halfway to just picking him up and throwing him over his shoulder when he remembers that this will not help what the school thinks of their family.

He drops to his knees in a squat, takes off his glasses, and ignores every piece of parenting advice he's ever been given.

"Megumi, I need you to listen to me."

"No! I hate you! I'm not going with you! I wanna go with Miki!"

"Megs," Satoru intones, pressing the tips of his fingers together as if in prayer. "If you help me out here, we can go to the zoo this weekend, and you can see the bunnies and the wolves."

Bribery, apparently, works. He won't mention that they'd been planning to do that already, let the kid think he won. Art of war or whatever the fuck. The boy's eyes go wide.

"And the poison dart frogs?"

"And the poison dart frogs."

Hook, line, and sinker. Megumi takes Satoru's hand and presses onward with feverish determination.

Satoru savours his victory, and tries not to think too hard about the long-term implications of his parenting choices. It's fine. It's so fine. Megumi will be fine.

It's not fine. The interview starts with a review of Megs' progress in class, his grades (which are surprisingly high), and his conduct, which is poor. Unsurprising.

"We're working on it," He says, fiddling with his glasses. "At home. There's a few child and family counsellors Suguru's found—"

"I'm not going," Megumi pipes up. "Screw you."

"—and we're working on collaborative problem-solving," Satoru finishes, with a pointed stare, one that tells him to hush up and let the adults do their boring stuff.

Megs' teacher, a woman with a narrow face and hair twisted into two thick braids, nods slowly. Her hands move toward a stack of papers in the corner of her desk.

"That's excellent to hear," Win. Big win. Satoru for the win. "However, my concern is mainly related to the physical incidents we've been emailing you about."

Right. Those.

"Megumi seems to exhibit strength atypical for his age." The statement's left hanging, like she's testing him for something. So the kid's strong. That's great, awesome, even. He'll be able to protect himself.

"Yeah, so?"

"Mr. Fushiguro, he's mentioned fighting at home a fair few times in class and to peers. You can understand why the school might be concerned."

Satoru nods, slowly. Of course they've sparred. Never enough to actually hurt, only so that if push came to shove, the kid had some skills. There's not really an easy way to explain this to his ward's homeroom teacher, though.

Yeah, sorry. His birth family wants to steal and abuse him horrendously until he's another misogynistic asshole with a crazy technique. Oh, a technique? Well, you see, Miss—

Hard no on the truth.

He takes a breath. "Yes. My… I…" Think, Satoru, think. "I teach martial arts at a private religious school outside Tokyo. The kids think it's fun, so sometimes we take them along and walk them through a couple basics."

Her posture loses its tension once she hears it. The woman gives a breathy laugh. "Oh! Well that makes much more sense, now. Thank you very much."

She starts to prattle on about a sports day two months from now, a need for parent volunteers on a field trip to the local fire station, and Satoru more or less tunes her out. They'll get the date for the sports festival over email, and Suguru will have already put it in his calendar.

"And, of course," she finishes, beaming, "If ever you have the time, we often have parents come in to speak about their careers. I'm sure the children would love to hear about your work!"

They really, really wouldn't. Satoru smiles and shakes her hand anyway.

It's a little surprising how easy that was.

None of this is easy, Shoko thinks. Her earlier idea of just begging Yaga to go in her place sounds really tempting right about now. It's not the fact that the twins are interrupting every five seconds, or the fact that Suguru's living it up with the only easy kid they've got in that house.

It's the way that their teacher keeps circling back to her medical career like he doesn't believe the girl with scrubs and an ID badge reading "STUDENT" in big bold letters isn't just that. If it weren't for the drug dealer allegations—the ones levvied against her by two first graders—she'd chalk it up to sexism.

"Yes, it is a rather intense program," She continues, half-heartedly. "But we want the girls to know that studying hard and doing difficult things academically is worth it. They're terribly bright, but I know they have some trouble focusing."

Do they ever. Beside her, Nanako has found a paperclip. She's twisted it into a spiral, which she is trying and failing to use as a slinky. Mimiko is staring out the window. She's not even going to try guess what's going on in that kid's head, so she stares at the teacher's bald spot.

"Trouble focusing is normal for children at this age," explains Mr. Nakamura, who seems to think she's stupid. "It's not a concern at present. I was under the impression, however, that the girls' father would be coming down. Might I ask your relationship to Nanako and Mimiko?"

She smiles. Thin. Tight. Prays to whatever gods are listening that the kids are still clocked out.

"Oh, my apologies. Their dad and I are… we're together."

This isn't fair. It's not her fault she's never done one of these. This is so not fair.

"Ah," says Nakamura. "I see. That's good. Children ought to have a good, healthy relationship modelled for them. Two parents very much benefit a child."

Miserably, Shoko nods. She thinks she can feel her heart speeding up. Hopefully, it'll get really tachy, and then she'll die of a heart attack before any of this can ever come up again.

"Well, thank you for your time, Ms…" He trails off. With a rush of horror, Shoko realizes that he's searching her left hand for a ring. Vomiting, Shoko reminds herself, is not part of the parent-teacher interview process.

"Ieiri," she supplies. She thinks her voice might be cracking. That's probably for the best, but it would be even better if she lost it so that she didn't have to explain herself later on.

"Best of luck with your studies, Miss Ieiri. I hope I see you return soon."

With each hand clasping the twins', she stands, turns, and chokes down a scream.

She needs a cigarette.

For all the build-up, Suguru thinks this was rather uneventful. He's sat with Tsumiki on a bench outside, reading aloud from her chapter book while she swings her legs. She's leaned against him, peering over at the words on the paper.

It's nice. Much better than he thought this would all go. When he sets the book down to ask Tsumiki if she wants him to do the voices (even though Satoru's much, much better at the voices), he notes two other, rounder faces squeezed in beside her.

Nanako and Mimiko blink up at him. Their twin expressions implore him to please, do continue. Don't feel as if you have to stop on our account.

He chuckles, shakes his head, and turns the page as another set of footsteps starts walking away, rubber soles squeaking on the tarmac. At least she's not doing it around the kids.

Suguru clears his throat, and starts on chapter three. He's not a big fan of this Gabe character, but then again, he supposes that's the point. The girls, all three of them, boo Gabe whenever he talks. It's sweet. Good that they learn to identify men like that early on and disrespect them accordingly.

It's really a rather sad book for a fourth grader. The main character keeps getting dogged down, and his mum's stuck with that awful man. They ought to screen what Tsumiki reads more carefully, but she's such a voracious reader that it would absolutely kill him to limit her like that.

"…Gabe scratched his double chin. ‘Maybe if you hurry with that seven-layer dip… And maybe if the kid apologizes for interrupting my poker game," Suguru waits for the girls to all scoff and roll their eyes at the evil man. They get it out of their system promptly.

A shadow looms over him. He doesn't look. Maybe it's a teacher, a janitor, a security guard. If he jumps or cracks, it'll look wrong.

"Maybe if I kick you in your soft spot, I thought. And make you sing soprano for a week," Satoru, in his very best "Percy" voice replies. This gets a laugh out of even Megumi.

"Hello, Mr. Gojo!" Tsumiki greets. "Mr. Geto was just reading us the next part. Would you both be able to do it at bedtime? He is a very, very good monster."

"You can call us by our first names," They reply in unison. Satoru blinks. "Is he, now?"

"Mhm," She nods up and down. "You're better at Percy, though."

Suguru, very pointedly, ignores the smirk that spreads across his face. "Have you seen Sho?"

"No, but she shouldn't be far." Satoru looks over his shoulder. "Excuse me for a sec."

When he warps back, the kids are already belted in and Suguru's sat between the twins this time. The kids cheer when Shoko, not Satoru, assumes the driver's seat.

"We're gonna live!" Nanako says, clapping her hands. "And no tickets!"

Suguru should scold her for that one. He really should.

He doesn't.

They convene after bedtime, in the dark, with a bottle of red wine. They look as if they're plotting something dastardly and a little occultish, Satoru thinks. All they need are cloaks, masks, and an ominous chant. They could fix the last part right away if the other two weren't so lame.

"So," he starts. "How'd everybody's evenings go?"

Suguru shrugs. Fair play to him. Tsumiki knows how to behave herself. A little too well, if he's being honest. He turns his head to the right, to Shoko, still in her scrubs. She taps her mouth with her finger.

"Suguru and I are dating now." Shoko says. Suguru makes a noise that sounds like a lot like a car starting.

"I'm a little hurt you didn't include me," Satoru shakes his head. "Is it because I've got albinism?"

"You don't have albinism, but if it pisses you off, then yeah, sure." She turns to the other man, the one sitting slack-jawed on her left. "He asked me what my relationship to the girls was. I just panicked."

The relief he receives from that statement is palpable. If Satoru were in her shoes, he'd be insulted.

"Did manage to convince him that we don't sell meth. So, you know. Net positive."

This is a positive.

Suguru's breath manages to return to his body, and he lifts his voice to speak. "Social worker's coming Tuesday. 3:30."

None of them have anything funny to say about that.

"We'll be fine," Satoru says, because somebody has to say it. "The interviews went good. We'll be fine. We have documentation for all of the kids. There's nothing… we'll be okay."

Shoko nods. "They won't want to do anything. Lazy, remember?" She elbows Suguru. "They'll love you, Mr. I-Handpick-My-Kids-Picture-Books-So-That-They-Have-Strong-Female-Protagonists."

y

Suguru, hands clasped in front of him, says nothing at all. He only nods, sighs, and pours himself another glass of wine.

On Monday, the children sit in the living room with their auntie, a plate of cookies Suguru'd made instead of sleeping, and a million questions.

Shoko has to fend the twins off when they try and descend on the plate, like vultures in search of carrion. Oh well, so what if they have a few more than they need? They're growing. It's fine.

"When we get our visitor tomorrow," Tsumiki starts, fidgeting with a spare thread from the carpet. "Why will we need to lie?"

Shoko opens her mouth, then closes it again. "Not everybody knows about sorcerers, and not everybody can fight. It's important that we don't talk about what we can do like that."

The children all nod. Perfect. Polite. Obedient. Her mouth tastes sour, bitter. The words do not want to be spoken, but they have to be, so Shoko pushes them out anyway.

It feels like retching.

"Our guest will tell us it's very important that we're completely honest," she says. "It is very, very important that we aren't."

She sounds just like her mother.

"We tell the truth about things like how we're treated, when and what we eat, where we sleep and how we feel," she holds up a finger. "But sorcery is a secret to keep our guest safe, just like our guest is trying to keep us safe."

But see, there's where they differ.

On Tuesday, Suguru makes pancakes. It doesn't matter that it's five in the morning. The twins will be up in an hour anyway even if he's decided that school would be too much for today. He steps out of bed, picks up a mess of laundry in the hallway, and downs his morning meds with a cup of juice that's been left out overnight. Pineapple. Gross.

He puts blueberries in them, then adds flax. The fibre content should be a little higher considering that Megumi's been having a lot of stomachaches, lately. The twins won't eat anything without some kind of sugar, so he reaches for the chocolate chips (semi-sweet, he's not an idiot) and sticks them in there, too.

They crisp at the edges and turn golden-brown approximately six minutes in. He takes some off then and there for Tsumiki and Megumi, who are thankfully normal, then burns the rest for the other two. The children yearn for fire pancakes, and so fire pancakes they receive.

When the kids shuffle in at half past six, he is still making pancakes. In case they're hungry. In case he's hungry. In case the world runs out of pancake mix and they're forced to survive on leftovers.

The kids don't mind, at least, but they place their plates in the dishwasher and run off toward the television. Something about dogs and copaganda. Satoru says it's harmless, but the police state is nefarious in this regard. One of the dogs is a search and rescue dog. That's promising, at least.

He hopes the kids will focus on that dog in particular.

"You prepping for Doomsday?'" Speak of the devil. Satoru is peeking over his shoulder. He's probably gauging how much he can reasonably eat without throwing up.

Suguru cringes. "Yes. No. I don't know, I—" He gestures around them, at the kitchen and the flour on almost every surface. "I couldn't sleep and I couldn't stop stressing, so…"

Satoru nods. He seems to take this in well. "You take your meds this morning?"

"Yes."

"Last night, too?"

"They're not for that, but yes."

"Okay, so what do you need?" He stares the other man down, unblinking. There's no malice or pity in his eyes. If anything, it's genuine curiosity. Suguru finds that refreshing.

"I need to do something with my hands. I need to," he runs a hand through his hair, sighing. "I need to clean this place up."

Satoru gives him a nod. "Okay, I'll keep the kids busy, then. Take them to the park or something. You want a hand while they're distracted?"

"Absolutely not." He needs to be alone with his thoughts, or lack thereof, and reorganize the medicine cabinet.

"Alrighty. Go. Clean, my Roomba. Be free."

Clean, he does. The whole house looks like Marie Kondo herself has unleashed her own domain expansion on it. Shoko, rolling out of bed at noon thanks to the joys of a night shift, gives him a very odd stare.

He'd followed her advice to a tee. There's still dust where there should be and a few dishes in the sink. Tsumiki's sweater is on the couch where she left it. It's lived in. They're not trying to hide anything at all.

She doesn't say anything. While the kids are in the backyard with Satoru, she turns on one of those medical dramas— he can never remember the name— about a doctor who commits medical malpractice and has some kind of homoerotic relationship with his best friend.

It's mind-numbing. It's perfect. They sit there for hours. Suguru learns that it's never lupus, that the Australian one is a dick, and wonders aloud how exactly the man is supposed to still have a medical license.

Shoko rolls her eyes. "That's what fiction's for, genius."

He opens his mouth to give her a rebuke about realism and its value—

And then the doorbell rings.

Satoru knows exactly when the doorbell rings. This is because he is checking his watch when he hears Megumi squeal, Tsumiki groan, and Mimiko silent.

He looks up to see her dangling an earthworm above her open mouth.

"Eat it," Megumi grins. "What are you, scared?"

The worm continues its advance toward certain death. Satoru breaks into a run. They cannot be eating worms today. "Put it down, Mimiko. Bugs are not for eating, you know that."

Her hands shake. She stares at him with wide, tearful eyes. "I have to. He double dog dared me."

"I'm vetoing it," he replies. "I'm in charge and I am vetoing and if he doesn't take it back right now, we are not going to the zoo this evening."

The laughter from the only boy in the backyard is cut mercilessly short. "You don't have to eat it," Megumi says. "I'm cancelling the dare."

The earthworm receives a stay of execution and is subsequently pardoned. Its sentence is commuted to life imprisonment in one of Tsumiki's bug jars. This, Satoru thinks, is better than being eaten.

"Worm-eater." Megumi whispers. Nanako kicks him, hard. Megs sinks her teeth into his arm, but pauses mid-bite. They all do. It's half past-three. The doorbell has rung.

Satoru wishes he could trade places with the worm.

It's Shoko who opens the door. Shoko who always opens the door, because it shows initiative and social skills and that's what social workers are looking for, children who are socialized and well-taught and well-cared for.

She's not sure what she expected, but the guy in front of her fits the mold. Barely twenty-five to thirty, in a dress shirt and shorts. There's a lanyard around his neck and thick glasses on his face. He smiles.

"Hi, I'm Mamoru Chiba with the Child and Family Agency. May I come in?"

At least he's respectful, she wants to say. Then again, he's not the one being assessed here, so she shuts her trap. Shoko smiles. Polite, respectful, calm. She steps back and holds the door. Conscientious.

"Of course."

They assemble, the three of them, like they're back in school. Usher the kids inside and upstairs for them to sit at the opposite end of their kitchen table and face this deceptively happy man and his clipboard.

Hopefully no one's forgotten the veil this time around.

"So," he says, still smiling. "We'll start with chatting between the four of us, speaking with the kids one-on-one, and if it's necessary, potentially some observation. Does that sound okay with you?"

It doesn't. They nod anyway.

He starts with the usual. Names, dates, occupations. How the kids got to where they are. School stuff. It's supposed to end there.

Mamoru, however, continues. "Any health concerns that might keep you from being fully present with the children?"

"Epileptic," Satoru hums. "But I'm on anticonvulsants and I have my license."

"Bipolar II." Suguru, this time. "I've been treated since I was sixteen. I can give you my psychiatrist's contact information should you want to confirm."

"Bum knee." Shoko deadpans. This makes the social worker laugh, which is definitely a win.

"And each of you have access to a physician, regular follow-ups?"

Another round of nods. Pen scratches on paper.

"Any financial concerns?"

Satoru laughs. Suguru elbows him, hard, in the side. He deserves it, yes, but this is not the time, so Shoko kicks him under the table. Domino effect or what-have-you.

"No," Suguru precises, teeth gritted. "We're very lucky to have access to inherited funds."

This is written on the clipboard. Perfect. He stands, gives them a cursory bow, and heads off to go put their fate in the hands of six year-olds. She wants to say something to the boys, say that they shouldn't worry and that she taught the kids well.

Did she? Really? Shoko can hardly remember how this was usually done. It had been years since she'd spoken with anyone in the vein of child welfare. Maybe there was another base to cover. There had to be. She's missed something.

She doesn't say anything to them, then. False hope would just be cruel at this point. Shoko stands, clenches her teeth and inhales sharply.

"I need a smoke break."

The children come down the stairs one by one, each about twenty to thirty minutes after the other. He's told that Megumi was scared. That he cried, that Tsumiki had calmed him down as every big sister could.

There's a funny mixture of fear, concern, and pride on Satoru's face when he hears that.

"Cried like a little baby," Mimiko smirks. "Good, 'cause he tried to get me to eat that worm."

Suguru isn't going to ask. She didn't eat the worm, she said so herself. Not a priority, unless she suddenly develops a newfound interest in consuming nematodes.

He places thoughts of worm comsumption aside. They sit and watch TV until Nanako falls asleep. Satoru looks like he might join her. It's a nature documentary, one with cheetahs eating wildebeasts and over-the-top narration. Mimiko cheers when her favourite antelope manages to outrun the main cheetah.

Pinnacle of cinema, truly.

He strokes her hair. It's soft. Really soft. He'd brushed it out this morning and braided it into two pigtails. She never squirmed like her sisters. Even Tsumiki would sometimes refuse to brush out the underside.

Mimiko seemed to genuinely enjoy their morning ritual, if anything. The first time he'd combed her hair, she'd been almost five, with eyes hollow and sunken. He'd had to crouch down to avoid scaring her, had to speak with soft, hushed tones.

Even then, it took some convincing.

It had been matted. So incredibly matted that he'd cut some of it into a longer bob. The girl had thanked him, but not for the care or concern.

"Thanks for only cutting my hair, Mr. Geto. I don't mind it as much, cause it doesn't even hurt."

He'd shaken his head. Told her that no one got to hurt her, not anymore, and that she only had to get her hair cut like that if she wanted to, from then on. He'd tucked the girls into his dorm bed, sat in his desk chair, and watched the rise and fall of their little bellies.

Suguru couldn't sleep, that night.

He still can't, not always. Pacing the hallways, watching each of the children dream helps more often than not.

He holds the girl against his chest. She curls into him instinctively. He's sure of one thing, one thing he's been sure of since that day in the village.

If they go, he might never sleep again.

It ends, as all terrible things do, with an email. This time, Satoru has turned his notifications on and switched his primary contact to his school email address. The message comes from a no-reply account during breakfast.

The kids have already started walking to school, so no reason to hide it.

The others guess what it is from the taut expression on his face and a chime on his phone. Suguru nearly drops the spoon he's holding. Shoko feigns nonchalance, but he can see her hands shaking.

A million thoughts, a million plans, and a million contingencies boil over in his head. He'll kill them if he has to. The higher-ups, the social worker. Whatever has to happen has to happen.

"Dear parents and guardians of Megumi Fushiguro, Tsumiki Fushiguro, Mimiko Hasaba and Nanako Hasaba," Satoru starts. He doesn't like how his voice wavers. "Please find enclosed the results of your home study, completed on August ninth."

Satoru thinks he's going to be sick.

Once he gets that green look on his face, Shoko snatches the phone out of her best friend's hand. They can't have him puking now. She scrolls down the email, skimming it instead of just reading verbatim.

"Appeared stated age… yeah, sure, whatever… home safe and sustainable… financial means… fuck, do these people ever learn how to summarize?" She clicks her tongue. "Where the hell's the meat?"

Further down, further down, nothing. She thrusts it at Suguru this time. "You. Literature man. Fix it."

The solution is opening a simple PDF , something his two best friends are utterly incapable of doing. Maybe the school's right. Maybe they're not fit to be parents. They can barely manage an email.

The screen loads in to show a letterhead, a stamp, and a signature. Suguru, apparently the only adult one in the house, clears his throat.

"I had the pleasure of observing Satoru, Shoko, and Suguru with their four wards for a total of two and a half hours on the ninth."

Shoko scoffs. "Not much of a pleasure."

"Shut up," Satoru hisses. "Keep going."

"All children appeared well-kempt, well-fed, and well-cared for. Pediatrician reports corroborate low health concerns at this time. Pantry and fridge are well-stocked. No concerns regarding nutrition, proper attire, or safety in the household," He pauses, rolling his eyes a bit. Of course they're fed. Who wouldn't feed a child? These children in particular might riot if a snack is skipped. "Some behavioural concerns for Megumi, age six, noted at school, but guardians have appropriate resources and plan of action is reasonable."

Satoru pumps a fist.

"Children all exhibit skills in line with appropriate developmental milestones, have close friends at school. When asked what they like most about their family, responses were largely that they felt safe and/or loved. No concerns regarding attachment or caregiver behaviour."

Safe. They feel safe. Suguru feels like something's bursting in his chest. It's an odd sensation.

"Some health issues present with caregivers, however, these are well-managed and corroborated by healthcare professionals. Not currently impacting welfare of any of the children or caregivers. No referrals recommended at this time."

Shoko gives that an approving nod.

"At this time, I have no concern regarding the welfare of any child in the home. I and my supervisors are pleased to report that all four of the children are safe, cared for, and very much loved by their guardians."

Suguru looks up. He sets the phone down, taking a long inhale.

"We're not fucked." Satoru says.

"Not fucked." Shoko echoes.

Suguru sticks his head in his hands. His laughter's breathy, a little nervous.

"Yep," He says. "That about it sums it up."