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It isn’t like they weren’t planning on telling Haruka eventually. Kiryu hadn’t had much opinion on the matter; after all, it wasn’t his place to divulge, and Goromi hadn’t seemed in much of a hurry to share either.
Their relationship wasn’t exactly a secret though. Haruka knew that Kiryu went out to see Majima-san often enough to probably put the pieces together, even if she only thought it had grown into a friendship–one where they still regularly threw down in the street, of course, but went out to eat together afterwards–and nothing more. Kiryu hadn’t wanted to hide Goromi, but he had wanted to keep as much of the family life out of his family life as possible, and so while Goromi still ran with the clan, she offered her own apartment for their stay-in dates to minimize Haruka’s yakuza exposure.
It was a good system–Kiryu still spent most of his time fumbling through fatherhood, but when Haruka was safely accounted for at a friend’s sleepover or a day trip organized and chaperoned by classmates’ parents, they would go out for dinner and then crash on Goromi’s couch for low budget movie marathons. Or they would go to a karaoke bar and sing their hearts out like they still had the stamina of twenty-somethings, or they would claim territory on the pool table at Vincent’s for far too long because Goromi would keep trying to swat at Kiryu’s ass every time he leant down to take his shot.
Kiryu had lost so much of his life to prison before he had the chance to experience anything akin to an actual relationship with somebody, but he felt they’d figured it out. Despite the mess and tragedy of his life, he’s happy.
It’s on one of the rare nights where they land at the Kiryu-Sawamura residence that it happens.
Haruka had been invited to spend the night at a friend’s house, and when Goromi had said she–surprisingly–wasn’t in the mood to hit the town, he’d offered up their apartment. Kiryu walked Haruka to her friend’s in the early evening, and by the time he returned, Goromi had been sitting on the stairs to their complex, all pink and gold against the stained concrete.
Despite it being a low stakes night in to watch a baseball game, she still gives him a sly smile in bubblegum pink, and Kiryu watches the setting sun’s rays shimmer in her blonde curls as she stands and brushes the back of her skirt. “Heya, hot stuff.”
“Sorry if you were waiting long,” Kiryu says as they ascend the stairs and he rifles through his pocket to pull out his keys. “I wanted to make sure the mother had my phone number too, just in case.”
“You really are a ladies’ man,” she whines dramatically. “Goin’ off and givin’ another woman your digits while your hardworkin’ wife is stuck waitin’ around for your ass to get home? My heart’s breakin’ here, Kiryu-chan.”
“Shut up,” he says good naturedly. They reach Kiryu’s front door, and he unlocks the door and lets her enter the apartment first. “Please tell me you didn’t walk here in those shoes.”
Goromi looks up from where she’s leaning against the entryway wall to unclasp the ankle strap of one of her heels. “What, ya don’t like ’em? I just bought ’em and wanted to give ’em a spin.”
Kiryu’s shoes take far less time to remove and are neatly placed in the shoe rack by the time she gets the first one off. “Goromi, that’s how you get blisters. And then they chafe and you get blood all over your new shoes.”
“Relax, I had Nishida drop me off in the car. No way am I breakin’ in new heels with a cross-city walk.” She removes the second shoe and pouts at him. “I wanted to look nice for ya.”
“You always look nice,” he says seriously as he leads her into the living area. “You don’t have to try to look nice for me.”
She hums. “Yeah, but I wanted to look nice for myself too. Haven’t had the chance to get all dolled up in a while since you bailed last weekend, and I was out of town the week before that for dumb family shit.”
Kiryu kind of cherishes the way Goromi looks forward to going all out with him. She’d said once that she didn’t care what anyone else thought because it was none’a their fuckin’ business as she’d put it, but she still opted to maintain her usual snakeskin and leather getup most days for practicality (though Kiryu could attest that heels and a dress barely served as a hindrance when it came to Goromi) and for a level of safety when dealing with business matters.
(“I’m thinkin’ about quittin’ anyways,” she’d said one night, her head on Kiryu’s chest and her finger tracing anxious little circles on his arm that he wouldn’t acknowledge for her sake. “Might start my own thing with the boys. Nobody could say shit to me then. Not like they got the balls to say it now either, but you know how it is. Just gettin’ tired of the boring ass meetings and drama and shit too. I just dunno how to actually make it happen yet.” She’d then patted his pec condescendingly and looked up to give him a grin. “And we don’t need my Kiryu-chan worryin’ about me either.”)
She’s confident of her femininity and comfortable with it in ways Kiryu was nowhere near being himself decades ago, and he always feels like an awed stranger looking in on the experience. The way she’s unbothered by others and so secure in herself is so at odds with his own experience that it’s almost jarring–his entire adolescence had consisted of feeling like he had to prove himself in some way and then desperately trying to do so in any way he could. That had only been amplified when he swore up and joined the biggest dick swinging contest known to Japan.
The way she trusts Kiryu to have fun and go all out when she’s with him makes his chest feel tight, but he supposes that so does the way she doesn’t feel like she has to prove anything to him either. She doesn’t, and though she’ll rarely–if ever–need a reminder, Kiryu promises to always remind her that she doesn’t. She’s the strongest person Kiryu knows, but she shouldn’t always have to be.
He fetches a couple beers from the fridge and brings them over to where Goromi has already cozied up under the kotatsu and turned on the game on the small television nearby. He passes one over to her and pops the tab on his own. “Who’s even playing tonight?”
“What!” she exclaims, snapping her head to look at him. “Are ya serious? It’s the series to see who wins the league and goes to the championship!”
Kiryu shrugs pathetically. “The shows Haruka likes are usually airing at the same time.”
“It’s the Tigers ’n the Dragons.” She rests her head on the table of the kotatsu and sighs. “Poor Kiryu-chan, can’t even watch baseball in his own home. You’re really committed to the dad job down to the bone.”
“I do miss it,” he admits, “but I don’t mind it that much. I kind of got used to not being able to keep up with it while I was in prison.”
Goromi groans dramatically. “A fuckin’ saint. Some’a us got money on this game, y’know.”
“If you’re running a gambling ring out of your office, that’s your business.”
“Would ya believe me if I told ya it was Nishida’s idea?”
“No,” Kiryu says immediately, furrowing his brow. When Goromi shows no reaction, he raises his eyebrows slightly. “Was it?”
“Mm, yeah.” She sits up and takes another sip from her beer. “He usually comes out on top at the end’a the season. I know he’s got that face of an angel and all, but the guy’s a sneaky bastard underneath it when he wants to be.” She puffs out her chest a little. “And that’s why he’s my right-hand man!”
“I wouldn’t have taken Nishida for a gambler,” Kiryu muses. “So, who’s your bet tonight then?”
“Dragons all the way, baby,” she says with what Kiryu has learned by now is meant to be a wink. He rolls his eyes and hides his smile behind the lip of his beer.
It’s the top of the eighth inning when the front door unlocks. Goromi has since shifted to laying with her head in Kiryu’s lap since she deemed the game a win and became less emotionally–and financially–invested, and her story complaining about Poppo no longer stocking her favorite flavor of chips paired with the sound of the television covers the noise of the door opening and closing.
So, as would be expected, both of them jump a little when a voice suddenly calls out from the entryway.
“Uncle Kaz, I’m home early.”
Goromi goes silent, a mumbled damn pressed into Kiryu’s knee.
Kiryu turns his head in surprise to see Haruka step into the room, her backpack resting on her shoulders. “Haruka? Is everything okay?”
She raises her eyebrows at the sight of Goromi, whose back is towards her, and then nods her head. “I’m okay. Aoi-chan started to feel sick, so her mom said it would probably be best for us to go home.”
“Why didn’t you call me? Or why didn’t her mom call me?” Kiryu asks, worry poking like a thorn in his chest. “I would’ve come to get you. Did you walk here alone?”
“I didn’t know if you’d be home, and I didn’t want to bother you,” she says, shifting from foot to foot. “It’s not that far of a walk.”
Kiryu frowns, trying to tamp down on his frustration. Haruka got home safe, and that’s all that matters. But still, “I don’t want you walking anywhere alone, especially when it’s dark out. It’s not safe. Please call me or at least take a cab next time something like this happens, okay?”
“Okay,” Haruka agrees, nodding even though her slight pout says she wants to protest further. She looks at Goromi’s back again before turning her gaze back to Kiryu. “I’ll go to my room for the rest of the night. Goodnight, Uncle Kaz.” A pause. “Goodnight, oba-san.”
“Oba-san?!” Goromi squawks, shooting upright to turn around and look at Haruka incredulously. “I ain’t no oba-san yet!”
Haruka steps back in surprise at the outburst, and the emotion remains as she recognizes the person in front of her. “Majima-san?”
Goromi sighs but evidently seems to decide that she’ll fight for her waning youth at a later time. She throws Haruka a quizzical look. “You know so many people with an eyepatch that ya really gotta ask?”
“No,” Haruka says. Kiryu can see her guard inching up slowly. “I just didn’t expect you to be here. Why are you all dressed up like that? Are you trying to get Uncle Kaz to fight you?”
“Did it look like we were fightin’?”
Haruka looks to Kiryu, who continues to observe the interaction silently. He’s not really sure what he’s supposed to do in this situation, but he shakes his head slightly and supposes he can at least say something. “We weren’t fighting. Or going to, either.”
“Well…” Goromi starts, looking back at him with that spark in her eye.
“No,” Kiryu says before she gets any ideas. “We were just hanging out.”
Haruka puts a hand up to her mouth, and Kiryu watches her eyes widen with a childish sparkle. “Were you on a date?”
Goromi replies fast, likely eager to try and embarrass Kiryu somehow. “Your Uncle Kaz’s a real ladies’ man, ya know.”
“Is that why you’re dressed like that, Majima-san?”
Goromi rolls her head like she’s deciding on an answer, shoulders raised slightly in a shrug. “Yes ’n no. I like gettin’ dressed up for dates with Kiryu-chan, but it ain’t the only time I do it.” She pats the tabletop of the kotatsu beside them. “Wanna join us? We could make it a lil slumber party, the three of us.”
Kiryu’s a little taken aback by the offer. Haruka looks to him for confirmation. “Can I? Please?”
“Of course,” he says. “Why don’t you put your bag in your room and get changed into your pajamas first though?”
“Okay! I’ll be right back then.”
After Haruka’s bounded off into her bedroom, Goromi deflates a little against his shoulder. “Man, I feel like my heart’s gonna hammer straight outta my chest.”
“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” Kiryu says quietly. “That’s not me kicking you out, either. Just an out, if you want it. But I don’t think she minds you being here.”
“Naw, I wanna stay. ’S just weird, her seein’ me all dressed up for the first time. I feel like I shoulda prepared a speech or somethin’.”
Kiryu shrugs. “It doesn’t have to be a big thing. She’s a kid. A good one, too.”
Haruka returns to the main room wearing a nightgown in the form of one of Kiryu’s old t-shirts, the garment long stolen and co-opted in its use. She gives another hesitant look towards the two adults before coming to sit adjacent to Kiryu—across from Goromi—at the kotatsu, pulling the blanket up over her lap.
There’s an awkward moment of silence as the party adjusts to each other’s presence, but it’s broken by the commentator announcing the Dragons’ win on the television. Goromi claps in delight and grins at Kiryu. “Told ya. Nishida’s gonna have a field day collectin’ from the boys, and my pockets are gonna be burstin’ at the seams. Bunch’a fools really thought that the Tigers would take the league two years in a row.”
“Um,” Haruka says, “Nishida is one of your employees, right? I think I remember him calling Uncle Kaz a lot last year.”
“Yep! He’s the best one I got, the goober. He’s nice like your Uncle Kaz, but he’s about a million times sweatier than Kiryu-chan.”
“It’s from all the stress you put him through,” Kiryu grumbles. “I’m surprised he hasn’t gone gray in the last year alone.”
“Uncle Kaz found a gray hair last week,” Haruka pipes up. “It’s not because of me, though. I think learning to cook has been stressing him out.”
Goromi guffaws and reaches over to muss Kiryu’s hair despite his attempts to lean out of her reach. “Gonna be a silver fox soon, eh?”
“I am not that old,” he says defensively, swatting her hand away and trapping it at the table with fingers around her wrist. “You’ll go gray a lot sooner than me, Goromi. You’re already in your forties.”
“Yeah, I’m just dippin’ my toes into my forties. Can’t keep clingin’ onto your thirties forever, baby.”
“Goromi?” Haruka asks, head tilted slightly in curiosity.
“Ah, yeah? That’s the name I’m goin’ by these days,” Goromi explains, a note of caution in her voice. It’s weird for Kiryu to see her unsure like this.
Haruka nods. “Do you want me to call you that instead? Or should I keep calling you Majima-san?”
“Call me whatever ya want. You can call me Goromi, if that’s what you’re askin’. I’ve never been one for formalities anyways. Feels all stuffy ’n shit.”
“Language,” Kiryu scolds.
Haruka giggles when Goromi pouts at Kiryu’s frown. “Uncle Kaz, I’ve heard swear words before!”
“That doesn’t mean that you have to keep hearing them,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. It’s a losing battle.
“Why did you pick out a new name?” Haruka asks, turning her attention back to Goromi. Kiryu sighs at the change of subject and collects his loss.
Goromi hums. “I guess ’cause I felt like it? I like the way it makes me feel. Same with dressin’ like this.”
“Hmm,” Haruka says. She looks like she’s putting together what she wants to say in her head, and she glances at Kiryu before looking back to Goromi. “Does that mean you’re kinda like Uncle Kaz?”
Kiryu had never hidden anything from Haruka. He knew she was a smart kid, but he’d also had what he wants to believe is a perfectly normal burst of anxiety about bringing a child into a home with a sharps container. After a small lecture about how it was dangerous and that she was absolutely not to touch it, not many cards were left off the table, so to say. She’d even come home from school one day with a box of little pink bandaids from the convenience store that now sit dutifully next to the sharps container under the bathroom sink.
“Kinda?” Goromi says with a tilt of her head. “Your Uncle Kaz’s real solid, y’know? He’s got everything figured out, and it’s a lot’a what people would expect him to be. Me, on the other hand…” She makes some vague motion with her hands. “I’m kinda just goin’ with the flow. It’s not always the same. I like dressin’ like this, but it’s not like I hated dressin’ the way I used to or something. I just feel happier when I look like this and when people think’a me like this. Like Goromi. Girls have more fun, right?”
Kiryu notices the way her fingers toy with the hem of the blanket in her lap as she speaks. Her bravado about not caring less about the opinions of other people is showing minute cracks right now in front of a child, and something about it spreads a dull ache through Kiryu’s chest.
“It’s like when you really wanna be a singer, but everyone says you should be a dancer instead, and your manager’s more concerned about what the fans’re gonna think than your own feelings,” she continues. “You know you’d be way better as a singer, but everyone else’s got their own ideas’a what you should be.”
Haruka nods like the comparison makes the most sense in the world while Kiryu scrambles to keep up. “Uncle Kaz says people know themselves best and that you should always respect that.”
Goromi exhales and visibly relaxes. “Yeah. Kiryu-chan’s raisin’ ya right.” She shakes her head to herself and chuckles. “Dunno why I was worried about tryin’ to tell ya all this when ya got his common sense up in that noggin and his big ol heart in your chest.”
“Were you just comparing gender to idol groups?” Kiryu asks, finally putting the picture together.
“Kiryu-chan, I’m tryin’ to have a moment here with your kid,” she whines. “How am I ’sposed to explain this shit in a way that makes sense to a kid when it doesn’t even make sense to me half the time?”
“I think it makes sense,” Haruka says before Kiryu can comment on her language again. “You just want to be who you are without anyone telling you how to do it.”
Goromi suddenly drops her head to the table, forehead hitting the wood with a thunk and her hair falling across its surface. “Yeah,” she mumbles. “’M tired of everyone thinkin’ I want their two cents on my life. It’s my life, ain’t it?”
When she raises her head, she looks a little caught off guard by the smile Haruka offers her. The sight is enough to bring a small smile to Kiryu’s own lips.
“Sheesh, what’s up with the two’a you makin’ me feel like a marshmallow?” She turns to Kiryu. “Is this thing contagious or what?”
“You’re allowed to be happy and feel relieved, you know,” he says. “It’s a big thing to talk about yourself.”
“Yeah!” Haruka says, nodding.
Goromi massages her temples. “I’m stuck in the marshmallow factory. Gonna be full’a rainbows or somethin’ by the end of the night.”
Haruka lets out a little ooh! and leans forward over the kotatsu. “Did you paint your nails like that yourself?”
Goromi raises her eyebrows but places her hands on the tabletop, wiggling her fingers. “Sure did! They ain’t my real nails, just press-ons, but I painted ’em. Oh, but these lil stars are just stickers. I don’t have that much patience.”
“They’re so pretty,” Haruka says, staring at them in admiration. They’re similar to the pattern Goromi wore when Kiryu first met her—really met her—in that they’re her signature pink that fades to a lighter tint towards the tips, but the flowers have been swapped for tiny stars instead. “I’m not very good at doing my nails yet, but at least I’m better than Uncle Kaz.”
“Oh? He ain’t so good with the details?”
Haruka shakes her head. “He tried painting them for me once, but he got the polish all over my fingers.”
“Hey,” Kiryu says weakly. He doesn’t understand how people can be so neat and precise with such a small brush and globs of polish. How does anyone keep it within the nail? “It wasn’t that bad.”
“He made a really funny face when he was doing it though,” Haruka tells Goromi, ignoring him.
“Lemme guess, it looked like—” Goromi says before furrowing her brow and pressing the tip of her tongue between her lips.
“Yeah!” Haruka giggles. Kiryu hadn’t expected to get ganged up on tonight, but he finds it hard to be annoyed when she’s having such a good time. “You look just like him!”
“He makes the same faces when he’s workin’ on those slot cars he plays with,” Goromi explains, shooting Kiryu a smug grin. “Dunno how those big, beefy fingers don’t crush those tiny parts.”
Kiryu sighs. “Plenty of adults are into Pocket Circuit.”
“Oi, Haru-chan,” Goromi says suddenly, “d’ya have any nail polish here? I could paint your nails for ya, if ya want. That’s some real sleepover stuff. And I promise I’ll do a better job at it than Uncle Kaz.”
Haruka’s eyes are sparkling at the offer, and she scrambles onto her feet. “It’s in my room. I’ll go get it.”
In the brief moment of her absence, Kiryu can’t help it. “Goromi,” he murmurs to get her attention, and as soon as she’s turned towards him, he leans in and kisses her softly.
Goromi makes a quiet noise against him, but she puts a hand on his shoulder and gently pushes him away. “I’m tryin’ to get your kid to like me, not be grossed out by me mackin’ on her dad,” she teases.
Haruka returns to the room and settles back at the kotatsu, presenting a small bottle of pale pink nail polish. “This is the only color I have right now.”
“It’s cute!” Goromi says, picking it up and holding it in the light. Small flecks of glitter in the polish glint in the light. “I can just imagine how pretty it’s gonna look on ya. Here, lay your hands out over here.”
Haruka does as she’s told, reaching out and spreading her fingers on the table in front of Goromi, who unscrews the cap on the bottle. Kiryu watches silently as she gathers polish on the brush attached to the cap but runs it against the lip of the bottle to remove the excess before taking it to Haruka’s nails.
“Makes it a lot easier to control if ya don’t have a huge glob of it on the brush,” she explains with a smirk, catching Kiryu watching. She starts on Haruka’s right index finger, painting the polish smoothly across the nail. “Ya don’t want too little, but ya also don’t want too much.”
Kiryu continues watching Goromi’s swift yet precise work, leaning forward to fold his arms on the table and rest his head on his forearms to get a closer look. He has no idea how she makes it look so easy .
“Hey, wait a second,” Goromi says suddenly, pointing the brush at Kiryu. “How’s this any different than applyin’ those little decals on the cars? Don’t ya gotta brush some of ’em on with glue if they ain’t the sticker type?”
“Yeah, but…” he says, trailing off. He shakes his head a little. “It’s just different.”
Goromi turns back to Haruka’s nails and shakes her own head a little with a tsk. “He’s makin’ excuses, Haru-chan. Don’t worry though, Goromi-chan’ll take good care’a ya.”
“I can paint them myself, but doing my right hand is a lot harder and never comes out as nice,” Haruka says.
“Just takes practice, just like anything else in life.” Goromi points to her eye with her free hand. “Ya think I woke up one day and was just this good at makeup? No way! Stuff takes work. You don’t even wanna know how many times I poked myself in the eye with an eyeliner pencil. If your Uncle Kaz can learn how to feed himself and a kid, I think you’ll be just fine.”
“Why am I getting bullied tonight?” Kiryu grumbles.
“You’re doin’ your best, babe,” Goromi says. “Maybe there’s still hope for ya to learn how to paint nails too. Ooh, I could even teach ya how to do hair. Whip ya into shape and soon enough you’ll be openin’ up your own lil salon in this place.”
Kiryu closes his eyes with a heavy sigh, but not before he catches the grins and giggles shared between the two in front of him.
He listens to their chatter like that, hunched over the kotatsu and letting their voices bubble around him. He hadn’t realized how tired he’d gotten–he’s sure Goromi would call him an old man for it and complain that it wasn’t that late–but now that his eyes are closed and he’s no longer entirely upright, he feels sleep slowly start to creep up on him. As he drifts off to the fading sounds of Haruka and Goromi’s conversation, he realizes he’s happy.
When he wakes, he realizes he’s been laid down on the floor and a pillow placed under his head. The room is dark save for the glow of the muted television, and in its light he sees Goromi still awake, sitting at the adjacent side of the kotatsu with her chin resting in her palm. He’s on her left side and so she hasn’t noticed he’s awake, and he takes that quiet moment to just admire her. Her wig has been discarded, hair sitting flat on her skull from its weight all evening, and it looks like she has also gone the route of Kiryu clothes as pajamas–she’s wearing another one of his t-shirts, the garment fitting far better on her than on Haruka but still hanging a hair loose on her leaner frame.
Something shifts on his other side, and he glances over to see Haruka curled up next to him under the blanket with her own pillow, fast asleep. Her hair curls across the pillowcase in a loose braid that Kiryu knows she wouldn’t have done herself, and he turns back to Goromi and reaches out to wrap an arm around her waist.
She jumps and lets out a quiet yelp in surprise, head whipping to his direction. Her face shifts into something scandalized and she whispers, “Kiryu-chan!”
“Hi,” he says dumbly, voice low. “What time is it?”
“Mm, think it’s about one or two in the morning. But don’t worry, Haru-chan fell asleep before midnight.”
“Did you enjoy your little slumber party?” he asks.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she says, laying down and nestling into the crook of his neck. “Shit’s a girls-only event. No boys allowed. I’d have to kill ya if I spilled the gossip.”
He chuckles and brings an arm up to wrap around her shoulders and hold her close. “Sorry. I know this probably wasn’t what you expected for tonight.”
She readjusts so she can meet his gaze. “Oi, you’ve got a whole ass kid. I knew what I was signing up for, so no apologies. I might have to leave some actual pajamas here for this kind of occasion, though. Your briefs with the lil cars are real cute, but I don’t think they’re my style.”
Kiryu clicks his tongue in faux annoyance to hide his embarrassment as she giggles and lays her head back onto his shoulder. “Regardless…I’m glad you stayed. I think Haruka had fun.”
“I’m glad I stayed too,” Goromi says. She’s tracing those little circles with her fingers again on his collarbone. “Feels good knowin’ I don’t have to sneak around or hide anymore.”
“Goromi…”
“Shut it,” she says, cutting him off. “I know what you’re gonna say, and it ain’t because’a you. I was hidin’ from myself a bit too.” The circles stop, and now she loosely latches onto the collar of his shirt with her fingers instead. When she continues, her voice is even softer. “She’s your whole world. I couldn’t give a damn what anyone else says, but if she didn’t like me, I don’t know what I’d do. I‘m around yakuza all day every day, and a nine-year-old kid’s what was takin’ me down.”
He presses a kiss to her hair, the short, dark strands tickling his nose as he does. Guess that explains the weird nervousness from earlier. “Like I said, she’s a good kid.”
“I know, I know, but don’t ya ever get a nasty thought that just wriggles its way deep into your brain like a maggot? And no matter how hard ya try, it just won’t leave ya alone?” She yanks at his shirt collar like an accusation. “It was the same when I was workin’ up the nerve to tell you, y’know.”
“No, I get it,” he says, smoothing his fingers up and down her bicep and staring at the ceiling as the colorful lights of the television flash across it. “I just think that sometimes you have to have faith in other people at the same time.”
That gets her to sit up entirely and stare down at him, eye narrowed, brows knitted, and lips pressed into an unreadable line. She’d taken off her eyepatch at some point—a surprise with Haruka here, honestly, considering how long it’d taken for her to finally take it off even just around him—and he realizes she’s washed her face free from the makeup she’d been wearing. In the low light, there’s almost an illusion of her left eye not being missing at all, and it briefly feels like they’re normal people with normal, boring, domestic lives not marred with violence and tragedy.
She finally sighs and places a hand squarely on his chest. “You’re hopeless,” she grumbles, shaking her head.
“I’m right,” he corrects her, gently pulling her back down to him by the wrist of said hand. “I’m right and you know it.”
Goromi lets herself be pulled and worms her arms around his neck. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
“Hey, if I’m Uncle Kaz, I guess that means you really will be Aunt Goromi.”
“Don’t even say that,” she chokes out, cheeks warm next to his. “And get that smirk off your face.”
When Goromi finally settles down beside him–stealing half of his pillow for herself, of course–and he closes his eyes again for the rest of the night, he can still feel the faint smile on his face. Yeah. He’s happy.