"Yes, yes—Makoto-nii, you sound just like my mom!"
Grumbling, Freyja crawled up from the beanbag chair, squirming like a caterpillar. But complaint or not, she did sit up properly like a good girl.
"And this pretty one is…?"
Now upright, Freyja finally noticed Shokuhou Misaki standing just behind Haramura Makoto. Her eyes lit up as if she'd discovered a new continent.
Children burn with curiosity. Misaki's appearance was enough to make Freyja forget her anger and focus entirely on the lovely sister by Makoto's side.
"Shokuhou Misaki—Haramura-kun's friend, Freyja-chan."
Misaki smiled softly, doing her best to project goodwill.
"Friend? Just a friend?"
"No way. If it were just 'friend,' how could Makoto-nii let you stand so close to him?"
"You know, over at Leo, Sister Yuko and the others always want to stand that close, but Big Brother Makoto never lets them."
Big, shining doll-like eyes, the purest smile—just a child's sincere voice. Who would doubt a seven- or eight-year-old?
"Right, Makoto-nii?"
"Excellent, Freyja. From now until you're an adult, say goodbye to violent games."
Others might be fooled—but not someone who'd lived with her this long. This little imp was doing it on purpose, pure payback.
"Oh, so that's how it is. Could you tell me more later?" Misaki said with a pleasant voice that suddenly carried a chill. "If possible, I'd like to visit Leo too."
"Hey—come on," Makoto said. "Don't tell me you're actually believing this kid's nonsense. She's obviously doing it on purpose."
He shivered slightly and caught the small hand sneaking toward his waist behind him.
"I can see that," Misaki replied. "But you didn't deny the content either."
She tried nudging his hand aside—she'd wanted to test a certain trick she'd seen online—but he held fast, and she gave a tiny, frustrated huff.
"That's right, that's right! A visit is totally fine—I'll be Sister Misaki's guide," Freyja chimed in again, brimming with presence after the earlier "threat."
Her bright eyes flicked between Misaki and Makoto, her grin stretching wider and wider. She felt like she'd grabbed Makoto-nii's Achilles' heel.
"Freyja has spoken," Misaki said, and simply interlaced her fingers with Makoto's, abandoning stealth for boldness. "Any objections?"
Soft—like holding a piece of warm, polished jade. Unlike his callused hand, weathered by firearms and training, Misaki's hand had not a single flaw.
"None at all," Makoto said. "Come whenever. See whatever you like."
Given all that, refusing wasn't happening—not that he'd intended to. The thought alone made him unconsciously rub his thumb across her hand.
"Hmph. You pass," Misaki muttered, cheeks coloring as her fingers twitched. She tried to pull away—she had been the one to offer, after all—but his grip was firm, and she soon let it be.
"Oooh, Sister Yuko's going to be so sad," Freyja sang.
"Enough out of you. One more jab and I'll really give you a thump."
This forehead flick wasn't gentle; Freyja's head bobbed from the impact.
"Back to the point," Makoto said. "First, do you know what your sister does?"
There were no extra chairs, but soft mats covered the floor—the sort kids played on—so Makoto simply sat cross-legged on the carpet.
"Not really," Freyja said. "I asked before, but she never told me. I don't think it's an easy job, though."
Freyja had always been a clever child—able to read the room, say the right thing, hide just enough mischief, and never make life hard for others. So she had never pressed her sister.
"So this kidnapping was related to my sister, wasn't it?"
Right to the heart of it in a breath.
"That's right," Makoto said. "And the reason is simple…"
He told the story—cause, start, and development—without glossing anything, explaining clearly and completely. It was simple: he believed Freyja was a child who understood right and wrong.
Sure enough, when he finished, Freyja stood at once, all traces of playfulness gone, her expression solemn.
"I'm sorry, Makoto-nii. You've taken care of me all this time, and my sister did something like that."
"And you even spared her."
"That's nothing to worry about," Makoto said, waving it off and patting her shoulder.
"We've lived together long enough—we're basically family."
In his previous life, the early loss of family and the emptiness that followed had carved in him a fierce respect for bonds. Anyone he accepted, he treated as family.
"Makoto-nii…" Freyja bit her lip, eyes a little misty.
"So," Misaki said gently, "Freyja-chan, try your best to persuade your sister too."
"Given how things are now, it's much better if you can stay with her—together."