Daisuke didn't mind carrying Iori back home. The day had been long and taken it's toll on everyone, and that was the least the leader could do. He smiled, remembering how the boy had slipped into slumber without anybody noticing. Despite the aura of seriousness he radiated, Iori was still a nine-year-old, and it was nice to see that confirmed from time to time.
What Daisuke did kinda mind was the soft breathing of the child against his neck. The occasional tightening of the arms around his collar was kinda distracting too, but not as much as the hypnotic rhythm against his back.
But what Daisuke minded the most as he nodded to Fumiko was being sad not to feel that breath in his neck anymore.