The moment Raito settled into the driver's seat, door shutting with a dull thunk, Kurai's voice slithered into his mind like smoke through a cracked window.
"You just had to make a scene, didn't you?"
"That wasn't a scene," Raito replied mentally, buckling Emi into the specialized carrier across his chest.
"That was restraint.""Oh, of course. Slamming a man's skull into a table while carrying a lollipop-wielding baby is the picture of restraint."
Emi, utterly unaware of the sarcasm buzzing in her guardian's head, was humming to herself softly—still clutching the sticky remains of her candy, her cheeks faintly puffed with satisfaction.
Raito sighed and leaned his head back for a moment, staring up at the roof of the car as if it could offer him peace. It didn't.
"Let's just pick up the suit."
"Ah yes, the famous red one I saw it in some of your memories. Your 'don't-talk-to-me-unless-it's-life-or-death' outfit. How long's that thing been waiting at the cleaners?"
"Three weeks."
"You're practically a criminal."
With Emi secured and the engine quietly humming to life, Raito pulled out from the café parking lot and merged onto the main road. The city was bathed in late afternoon light—orange shadows stretching long across the asphalt, giving the buildings a washed-out, cinematic glow. The kind of evening that whispered promises of quiet... and never delivered.
As they reached the mall, Raito parked with smooth precision and unbuckled Emi. He took one glance at the sling and paused.
He could carry her with him into the cleaners. It wasn't like they'd throw a fit over a baby, but…
The moment he spotted the Little Lambs Drop-Off Center, his pace slowed. It was clean, bright, staffed with peppy young caretakers who smiled way too much—and had a "30-minute express option" listed right on their chalkboard sign.
More importantly, it had toys. And cartoons. And other little ones crawling around and drooling on plastic dinosaurs.
Emi blinked up at him as if she knew what he was thinking.
"...You'll have more fun here," Raito said quietly, mostly to himself.
Emi pouted, already sensing she was about to be left. When Raito crouched down and began unfastening the sling, she let out a soft whimper, clutching his collar with her tiny fist.
Raito paused. The look she gave him wasn't dramatic or loud—it was that wet-eyed kind of confusion babies mastered, like why are you leaving me behind?
Something in his chest twisted slightly.
"…Be a good girl," he said gently.
She sniffled again, but the moment he looked her straight in the eyes, expression unreadable but calm, Emi stilled. Her lip wobbled once, but she nodded—or what counted as a nod for someone her size.
Raito handed her off to the nearest caretaker, a bright-eyed teenager who looked nervous until he gave her a silent, steely look that said drop her and you die. She nodded rapidly, hugging Emi protectively to her chest.
He lingered just a second longer than he needed to, watching from the corner of his eye as Emi was shown to the toy bin. She didn't cry again. Just... watched him. A little solemn.
"Touching. You're growing soft, you know."
"Shut up."
"I mean, before long you'll be knitting sweaters and crying during commercials."
Raito turned on his heel and walked into the mall, tuning Kurai out and heading toward the dry cleaner at the far end.
The scent of detergent, freshly steamed cotton, and plastic wrap hit him like a wave the moment he stepped inside. An old man with glasses looked up from behind the counter, squinting until recognition settled in.
"Oh! Mister Yakamura! We were about to send your suit to our long-term storage."
Raito gave a small nod, eyes scanning the back where his crimson suit jacket hung in pristine condition behind layers of protective film. It was bold, sharp, and unapologetically striking—just like the man who wore it.
"Sorry for the delay," Raito said coolly. "I've been... occupied."
The man chuckled as he retrieved the suit. "Not a problem at all. I just assumed you must've had a baby or something. Only reason people forget nice things like this."
Raito raised an eyebrow.
"...Something like that," he muttered, receiving the hanger after waiting for exactly 30 minutes.
As he turned to leave, the dry cleaner added, "You planning to wear this for something special?"
Raito paused.
Was he?
"No," he said. "Just thought it was time to take it out again."
He stepped back into the mall crowd, suit slung neatly over one shoulder and his thoughts trailing behind him like shadows. As he made his way toward Little Lambs, his eyes narrowed slightly.
"So what's next, doting dad?"
"Don't tempt me."
"Oh no, I insist. Maybe you'll enroll her in daycare. Join a playgroup. Swap parenting tips with single moms."
Raito rolled his eyes.
But somewhere in the back of his mind… he couldn't help but imagine Emi babbling and reaching for him when he came back to pick her up. Not with fear or confusion—but with that same bright, trusting giggle she'd made back at the café.
And he realized…
He was looking forward to it.
Maybe he really is going soft he thought to himself as he kept walking, crimson suit in hand, and the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Almost a smile.