There are, in fact, other lives that exist outside of the canon. SI/OC
AU stuff, cause I can, and cause some things just don't make sense? Pls don't beat me up for it. lmaoooo sorry if i get some official talk or procedures wrong, i did some research, but obvs not always gonna be totally correct (plus, have not watched anime in sooooooo long)
kind of a slice of life thing
warning: dead rabbits, missing children, caecum (it's this thing where your small intestine and large intestine meet. Its giant in herbivores, lets them digest cellulose more)
not edited
Junko kills the rabbit.
It falls limp in her hands, neck cleanly broken. It's chakra, a thin and not particularly strong current that circulates its body, fizzles out softly until the rabbit is empty.
She doesn't kill it because she enjoys it, but it doesn't bother her either; today's training exercise is the practice of killing and preparing meals for when they're on future missions. Underneath that, it's also preparing them to become desensitised to death and their first kills.
But Junko doesn't care about all that shit. She only cares about the chakra, and this exercise has given her a very good reason to kill little animals.
Chakra is unlike anything she's ever seen before – it almost tops experiencing death and rebirth, which, really, are two things one should never expect or ever have to say.
And it's everywhere; in the trees and grassy field around them, the wild birds and occasional messenger flying overhead, even the very air they breathe carries it in tiny, prickling particles. There's nothing that Junko has experienced in this life that doesn't have it. If she tries hard enough, she can pinpoint the ants scurrying throughout their colony, each and every one of them.
It astounds her sometimes that nobody is as sensitive to this unnatural force as she is. Now, Junko isn't one to pay much attention to her peers, if she does any at all, preferring to keep them on her peripherals unless she can get something out of them, but it's been pretty clear from the get-go that they can't feel the humming undercurrent not just in their bodies but outside of it, like an extra, tightly coiled muscle waiting for the opportune moment to spring – the world is screaming 'I AM ALIVE' and nobody hears it but her.
It's fascinating to say the least.
While caught up in this secret that only she is privy too, her partner is more than distracted by the actual dead rabbit.
Case in point:
"Ewww," Masaomi whines, leaning away. "You killed it!"
"I aspire to have your keen observational skills," Junko says, effectively pulled away from observing the chakra pulling away from the rabbit's system. "We're supposed to, dickshit. That's what shinobi do, they kill."
Masaomi frowns, swayed somewhat by her plain logic, and hesitantly pokes the rabbit. Unresisting, it's body jiggles abnormally, swinging forward from the force of his finger before coming back to slap against it.
He full body cringes. "Eugh!"
Impulsively, Junko throws the rabbit at his face.
Masaomi shrieks.
He scrambles back on his legs, squirming around the grass and flailing his hands around his head.
And, instead of doing the smart thing like getting rid of the object causing him distress, he leaves the body perched atop his nose like a pair of new, utterly lame sunglasses that he's trying to show off but nobody cares cause they're not that cool, and he isn't either. The jazz hands are to capture their attention, obviously, because surely that'll get them to look.
People are looking alright. Bashira-Sensei, as always, looks like he's reconsidering his life choices.
Junko bursts out laughing, a manic grin highlighting her face. Then, she abruptly throws herself at him, her barking laughing kicking up a notch when Masaomi flinches away from her. Out of the pity of her cold, cold heart, all she does is pluck the rabbits, cool, furry body off his face.
"Aww, did you scare Masaomicchi?" Junko coos, holding the rabbit high above her like a particularly favourite stuffed toy. Then she throws it behind her carelessly, the body thudding amongst the little circle of training gear Sensei provided for them. "C'mon, I killed it you skin it."
He frowns, humphs loudly, but nothing more.
See, this why Junko keeps him. Masaomi's most redeeming quality is his ability to bounce back after she's done with terrorising him. In fact, he even retaliates sometimes. It's not as fun terrorising the other brats, they just scream, cry, or scream and cry at the nearest adult, and it gets so fucking boring time after time. Never mind the fact that they're all children and Junko has a good nineteen years over them, her new life not included. Cockblockers they all are, and it's a real pain in her ass.
Plus, he does her homework cause she doesn't have time for that shit. She's got more interesting, chakra related things to be doing. A genius she is not, but she was learning about polypeptide synthesis and had the cosine rule memorised when she was sixteen. Academy homework is so laughingly easy that it makes her cry just trying to sit down and do it. Helping Masaomi with his taijutsu forms and hand seals is a fine payoff for him doing her homework.
He throws it a reluctant look, even knowing full well that it's futile. "Do I have to?"
Junko merely thumbs the handle of the skinning knife.
His shoulders sag, and sighs miserably. Boy just doesn't wanna get messy is all. Masaomi drags himself to the laid out gear, holding onto the knife awkwardly when she shoves it into his hands.
She watches him skin and gut the rabbit with eager eyes, completely besotted with his awkward, but perfect dissection of the rabbit. Had this happened in her previous life, Junko would have never displayed her excitement as plainly as she does now, but back then Junko had a lot of inhibitions. Even if it was for the simple act of killing and preparing your own meal.
Since then, since death, she's lost a lot of her qualms about anything and everything. It's not the only thing that's gone; she doesn't remember what it is, what was once so central to who she was, and Junko doesn't care that she can't remember it. She can't care.
Too embarrassed and regretful of the past, too stressed and anxious about the future – and what happened to her? She died.
If all she thinks about is the present, and it's all she can possibly thing about, then good riddance.
That more often than not Junko is in a state of intensive boredom is something she can easily deal with. Like making impulsive and usually stupid decisions to stave her craving for good entertainment.
Quickly, she snatches the knife out of Masaomi's hands. "I wanna try!"
"Hey!" he reaches out in an attempt to take it back, but she slinks away out of grasping distance.
He doesn't hesitate to lean more weight onto his knees, shuffling closer, but when he starts wobbling it's at that point that he realises it's too late.
Junko's lips drag upwards into another grin when his eyes, green like limes, widen and his mouth drops as he, helplessly, falls forward. In such a state of shock and 'fuck me' he doesn't stop himself from landing right on top of the rabbit and its pile of innards.
It makes a squelchy sound.
He doesn't scream, or shriek, or anything at all. A minute ticks by, she's still grinning and waiting, just waiting, as Masaomi lies disbelievingly in the mess he created.
And then he tackles Junko.
"I hate you! Why do you always do this to me, huh?" he cries, trying to wrap his sinewy arms around her. "You think this is funny you ass?!"
Junko rolls away in the nick of time, barking like a mad dog. When he lunges again, she hops swiftly onto her feet and starts springing in circles around their classmates across the field.
Obviously, he follows.
Soon enough the entire class is in chaos, yelling and crying and demanding Bashira-sensei get them to stop!
Understandable, that. Masaomi is after all covered in rabbit blood and guts. There's a piece of a pinkish grey squishy thing on his cheek. Junko very briefly thinks it might be part of the small intestine. Or the colon. It could be anything really.
Seconds before she shuts her eyes, because Masaomi's finally caught her and his idea of revenge is to pull the half of the caecum off his jacket and smash it repeatedly into her face and down her neck (let it be known that it smells fucking terrible) – Bashira-sensei, rather than pull them apart drops his face into his palms, too well used to their shit, and simply directs the other students anywhere else as long as it's away from them.
Her grin stays ever-present, even when he starts pulling at her cheeks hard and scolds her.
"You're a real fucker." Masaomi grumbles in the very late afternoon when the Academy is out of session.
They walk through the civilian centre on their way back to the orphanage. Above them, the sky bleeds yellow and orange into a darkening purple, the suns last few rays before it eventually makes its descent below the tree line.
Junko hums, focused more on the ikayaki in her hand. "I've always wanted to be one, it's my life goal, you know?"
"How did I never realise." he says. A civilian woman walking nearby shifts away when he walks by her, holding her hand to her nose indiscreetly. It's the rabbit gore, his jacket smells fucking foul. "It's not like you spend every waking moment getting me into shit. Literally."
"It's cause your 'blivious. Wanna know who shredded all your books and put holes in your shirts?"
Masaomi double takes. "Wait, you know who did that?"
Junko rolls her eyes. "Duh."
"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell Keiri-san?!" he says, tugging his sandy hair. "She thinks I did it! Made me sit down and talk about my 'cry for attention', said it was 'unbecoming' and I'd better stop cause it wouldn't get me anywhere in life."
"Hah," Junko snorts. She throws her stick carelessly over her shoulder, hitting the inner-edge of a waste bin before falling in. "You still wanna know who it was?"
"What do you think?"
Her head falls back, allowing her to watch the changing colours in the sky. She hums, taking her time, amusement rising as Masaomi practically vibrates with impatience next to her.
It's very beautiful the sky, even more so that it's not clogged up by smog like the city she had once lived in. One of the great things about Konoha, that. Air pollution's very minimal because everything's generally made by hand.
Pollution on the ground sucks though, there's trash everywhere. Not surprising, Konoha's almost a city. The only consolation is that it's not plastic, at least. It's cleaner in shinobi populated areas, but not so much so that it's a massive difference to the civilian side of the village. Pray for the environmentalists if they ever step foot into the red lantern district. They might just develop an aneurysm.
There's a sub-branch of the Konoha Military Police Force that deals with this kind of shit, environmental felonies and all, but she doesn't remember its name considering it's one out of the many, many branches that have popped up over the years. There's even a fire brigade that formed up during the last war – apparently from the increased production of metals, the testing of weaponry and other related items, and Fire Country's goddamned predisposition to get crazy fucking hot, a bunch of fires started cropping up like crazy.
It doesn't particularly help that everywhere you look there's bound to be a tree looming over your shoulder.
A good number of homes burnt down before the Uchiha's on the home-front managed to salvage a crew to put a stop to the fires.
Tendrils of smoke catch her eye, drifting upwards lazily in the air. It'll be a real pity when they all die, Junko muses, because all shinobi are pretty much fucking useless if they're not contracted.
The Police Force, so really the Uchiha, is probably one of the only few clans that interact the most with the civilian centre of Konoha – only a daily basis, that is – than any other shinobi inclined clan. Apparently they're supposed to only deal with shinobi related felonies, but they get easily wrapped up in the civilian side of things.
There's very little civilians that hate, or even dislike the supposedly distanced clan. They're rather popular even. (Junko knows; she dragged Masaomi with her once, henged into some Uchiha brats after seeing them get treats for free – most satisfying sticks of dango she's ever had)
If Junko was a stronger, smarter, better person, maybe she'd try to put a stop to eventual massacre bound to happen in only a few years' time. But she's none of those things, and she doesn't feel guilty about her non-attempts either.
Besides, she's a seven-year-old, no-name orphan. She's about as nondescript as every other bottom feeder out there. Practically speaking, there's nothing she can do.
Masaomi pinches her arm. "Oi! Don't ignore me."
"Ugh, fine fine," Junko swats his hands away. "It was Noburu. He thinks you're the one that set all his clothes on fire and stuffed a dead rat in his pillow."
"What? I don't even talk to him, why'd he think tha–…" he stops, looks at her accusingly. "You did it, didn't you."
"Do you even have to ask?"
"What'd he even do to you?" Masaomi grumbles, falling into exasperated resignation.
She waves around nonchalantly. "Nothing, he just exists."
He stares at her, eyes full with a knowing that makes her as uncomfortable as she is amused because he really thinks he actually knows her, then lifts them up to the sky. "Call you a dumb bitch? Say that nobody would ever want a dumb whore like you? That they'd never let you gradua–"
"Whatever whatever, lord, you ain't need to say it all." Junko rolls her eyes. "Where'd you learn all those words, huh? That's so fucking dirty, ruude."
"Ahaha," Masaomi says sardonically. But he leaves the topic alone. If he hadn't, Junko would fucking hit him.
As if Junko actually cares about what others call her. The fact they called her anything at all and hadn't even bothered to say it her face (Noburu that piece of shit, whispering in the room next door like she isn't a shinobi/kunoichi in training) really grinds her gears. And the most annoying thing? The caretakers caught onto his shit-talking, meaning not only did he get punished for dragging her name, they got her too just for being 'involved'.
The punk's lucky that's all she did. He wouldn't be able to handle it if she did anything else, might lose those brain cells he so desperately needs.
It still fucking bemuses her that he pinned his case of 'bad luck' on Masaomi rather than her.
He sighs noisily. "I gotta beat him up." as if he can't just not do it.
His 'fight me' attitude really speaks for how much time he spends around her.
Junko eyes him. "Yeah, okay, luck to you. Orphanage is right 'ere."
And it is, as soon as they turn paths.
The building is not pretty, though it fits in with Konoha's aesthetical scheme. Made out of necessity during the second war serving as a medical centre, not only is it situated practically, on the outskirts of Konoha in the centre of a cluster of trees, right up near the gates so that any injured shinobi can reach it quickly enough as the first point of medical contact – the building itself is structured practically, like a field hospital, or a repurposed grand hall.
She remembers very clearly before the war was in a cease-fire the number of shinobi and kunoichi that would hop in and out. They were either cleared and sent back on their merry way to their next rotation shift, or straight to Konoha Hospital due to serious emergencies. At two years and half Junko had the very unfortunate task of handing out ration bars to the semi-okay-but-not-not-okay-enough-to-leave injured ninja.
The building only became an orphanage after the war, when they found that the already previously established orphanages were packed to the brim, unable to accommodate the far too high number of parentless children out on the streets.
Up ahead, someone leans on the wall next to the open door. They turn slightly and the crest on their sleeve flashes Junko's way. Would you look at that. She was just thinking about them.
"Who'd you think it is this time?" Junko asks, nudging Masaomi hard with elbow.
"Huh?" he looks away from the sky, frowns and tries to rub his ribs. Then his eyes dull, face going flat. It's a far cry from his normal outlook. "No clue. How old was the last one?"
She shrugs. "Four, I think? Eh, three maybe. Not old enough to put up a fight about it for sure."
"Doesn't matter if they put up a fight. Ohta fought more often than you did and look where she is? Not 'ere that's for sure." Masaomi grumbles. He tries for a sneer too, but that sort of expression isn't within his capacity yet so it's just an overdone pout.
"Didn't she join the circus?"
"Wait, really?"
They walk up the steps, pulling the Uchiha police from the stack of sheets in her hand.
"It's a little late to getting home, is it not?" Uchiha Ruga says, raising her brows coolly.
Junko throws her a sideways squint as she passes through the front door. "As if I'd call this pigsty a home."
Masaomi raises the brown paper bag he's been carrying since they got to civilian centre. "Miyo-san makes us do slave labour. I had to buy fruits today."
"Terrible!" Uchiha Ruga says.
The inside is warm and toasty; the funds for the orphanage must have arrived today. Fucking finally. Although there's some merit to Miyo's (the Head Caretaker) firm belief in the 'suck it up' ideology, compounded with her 'when I was your age' stories from during the second war, it's nice to go to bed knowing everyone's nipples will be safe from freezing off during the night.
Konoha's heat is so much easier to deal with than its cold. You can run nude and they'll just label you off as a particularly unruly child. Junko laments the late autumn season.
The front room is littered with toys, half are piled somewhat orderly inside the toybox, and others piled unorderly around it instead. The walls are clean of any ink marks, the only four walls in this entire orphanage that aren't tattooed by random scribbles, handprints, and masterpieces.
And it's empty. Like always when the police end up visiting the orphanage, as either a check-in or because there's a newly reported missing orphan that didn't just run off for other, better prospects, they're all upstairs trying to listen in to the conversation happening below.
Not even in their rooms; Junko catches the eye of a few of them when she walks by the staircase, their eyes and foreheads peeking between the legs of the rails, just barely seen over the edge of the second floor. They look solemn, large eyes on quiet faces. They wear muted fear, knowing that the next missing child could be them.
Junko looks ahead of her. The hallway is dark, to ward of the rest of the children although it's already been proven to not work. At the end a small crack glows, the kitchen, absorbing the last of the natural light.
"–ad? Of course I'm mad. We've lost three children in three months. Do you know how many a month that is? Do you? It's one. One child, missing, gone like the wind. How are they gone? Mie is four, she can't even walk, just drags herself across the floor. How does a toddler like that just disappear?!"
"They've been at it for a while now," Kabuto says, appearing out of the shadows. He tweaks his glasses, peaking through the crack in the doorway. "Sumida Mie. Brown hair, grey eyes, four. She went missing last night, mother called up the police force after you left."
He sniffles, rubs a tissue underneath his nose.
"What'd they say?" Masaomi whispers, holding the brown paper bag gently so it doesn't make a sound.
Kabuto shrugs, a frown puling at his face. He rubs his nose again, pat it's with his used tissue some more. "Can't do anything. There's nothing solid to work with, and everyone knows that missing can just as easily mean taken into the lantern district."
"But she's four!"
"Yeah," Kabuto says tiredly. "They don't know what to do. She's literally disappeared – no traces or anything." He looks at Junko with weary eyes behind circular frames. "You feel anything last night?"
Junko raises a brow. "She'd still be here if I did."
She doesn't care about these brats. They serve no entertainment value, offer her nothing. Their only ever useful during the winter months when shared body heat becomes central to survival. But Junko's still got morals that she'll follow even if her hearts not in it – if she noticed someone abducting the children during the night, oh she'd say something. The more evidence there is, then hopefully, there more opportunity to act.
Especially when there's just as much chance of her being swooped up by a vulture that's been preying on the orphanage for the past several years.
Or is old war hawk a more accurate description? It doesn't quite have that ring to it though.
Just another one of the things that Junko doesn't want to play part in; planning isn't her forte, and she understands enough about people that trying to plot their future course of actions and the variabilities around them, is, again, impractical.
Seriously, she's seven. It's laughable to think that she could do anything substantial.
Momentarily, she wonders if Kabuto's already part of the shady subbranch. He's got the type of features that, if you cut off his legs, could easily pass for a still very young child, ten-years-old notwithstanding. She doesn't remember how old he was back in anime.
"Should we interrupt?" Masaomi asks, the thin strike of sun highlighting his uncertainty.
They turn back to the open, cracked door.
"–if you have three children and one goes missing, you don't consolidate yourself on the fact that you still have two other children. You look for the lost child!"
"I'm aware, Imada-san, but it still stands: there's not enough evidence to hold up a proper case against a possible named suspect. Particularly when their disappearances can easily be attributed as runaways. Unless we find something that definitively points to foul play, nothing can be done."
A heavy sigh. "This is not good, not good at all."
"We'll keep our profile list updated so long as you continue to report, and as I've mentioned prior to this date, we'll inform immediately if there's a match between the long-term missing children and any unidentified human remains in our archives. Again, my apologies, but there's nothing we can legally look into Imada-san."
None of the adults speak, ruminating in a silence that belies the tense atmosphere. It's not unwarranted. Unidentified remains only ever match up with the runaways, and runaways always leave a sign that their about to ditch the nest. None of the missing children have ever matched.
That a civilian serial killer is snatching kids up from the orphanage is a ridiculous notion, a shinobi one just a little less. But they'd never get pass the entire building full of upcoming shinobi and kunoichi, two fully trained jōnin's, and the countless traps littering the place.
Even without her foresight, Junko imagines it'd still be easier to point fingers to a higher up playing foul with the nameless runts of Konoha.
Also, that all of the caretakers must have been blackmailed or bribed at least once must contribute to their insistence that the missing children simply aren't runaways.
"Looks like their done," Kabuto murmurs, nodding them in when the terse air lasts longer must be comfortable.
She barges into the room, slamming the door open with her shoulder. "Miyo! We brought the crap."
"Language!" Keiri scolds immediately, narrowing her eyes at their entrance. Not surprising, the woman thinks she's the reincarnated omen of bad misfortune. Hah. Junko wrinkles her nose, sticking it up. She dodges a slow whack from the pudgy woman practically guarding the door.
Miyo, greying hair, wrinkles on her forehead and crows feet at her eyes, a nasty wicked scar bisecting her lip and right cheek, humphs aggravatedly. She gives the Uchiha – Uchiha Kosuke, the Police responder that always comes to the orphanage – a stern look, no matter how awkward and apologetic he appears.
"Another time, then?" he says stupidly, completely at wits with his previously solemn attitude.
"Only if it's to bring more of those sweets, then certainly not." Miyo says.
He winces. They all wince.
"I–… yes, have a good evening." He bows respectfully to the woman, nods to Kanpu sitting silently in the corner, and makes abortive patting motions to Junko and Masaomi.
When he leaves, Kabuto and Urushi – where was he before? Oh, yeah, placating some of the kids upstairs, she briefly remembers spotting his chakra up there – enter the kitchen.
"So she's gone. That's it?" Urushi asks. "They can't do anything at all?"
"No," Miyo scowls. "You lot lock the windows, ensure the traps are untampered and still active. We can very well still try our damn hardest to stop any further disappearances."
"The traps are always active," Nonō says, worry creasing her face. "I don't think anyone's been coming inside, rather."
Junko wonders how involved Nonō currently is. Her memory is shoddy as is, but for someone who was only a means for another's backstory? It's pretty shit is what she's saying. Was the older woman simply handing over the children? Taking them out of their rooms during the night, or were they persuaded to come out. She must be the only one, if that's the case. Junko hadn't even known Miyo existed as a person, and the other two were plain civilians.
Furthermore, no genjutsu's been casted, she'd know in a heartbeat. But even then, constantly aware of the chakra around her, and therefore the chakra of her fellow orphans, she hasn't felt even a blip during the night. Not even the intention to get a drink of water.
How they've gone missing is mindboggling. It's like they've never existed. Not even when most orphans share a bed with at least two or three others.
For that matter, when Junko remembered that ROOT actually existed, she did try to scout it out. For curiosity's sake, mostly. She didn't find anything, no matter how far she turned her third eye into the ground. Of course, there's the rest of the entire village it could be based underneath, or even in part of the mountainside, but currently her reach isn't strong nor stable enough to bring her an image of even a third of the village. Smaller than that, even.
She gave up after exhausting herself the first few times, banking her inability to find the ROOT based on the fact it was built by a real old, paranoid shinobi decades past her own age, even with her reincarnation deal. Obviously. Junko isn't so smart that she'd claim to discover the secret operations base just 'cause she was fucking curious. As if.
Whatever. The case of missing children's isn't inhibiting her lifestyle, no point wasting time trying to sleuth it out like the goddamned Sherlock Holmes.
"That doesn't help us," Keiri says, scowl slipping off her face. "What are we to do?"
"Put away the groceries," Junko says.
Miyo's dark eyes flash over to her. "You two, I want you both back here before sunset from now on."
"Ew, no," she says.
Masaomi looks uncertain, like he wants to fight it but also doesn't want to, y'know, get kidnapped or suddenly disappear. His 'fight me' attitude is quickly subdued in the presence of the Head Caretaker.
Or he just doesn't want to fight Miyo. Nobody does. She'll beat your verbal ass into the grass. Not that it stops Junko from trying.
"Ew, yes. We're not losing anymore children, no matter how excellent you think you are."
"I don't think, I know," Junko says, crossing her arms.
Keiri rolls her eyes. "Honestly, girl."
Nonō, always annoyingly kind and in constant state of concern despite how she's more than likely the main perpetrator, nods slowly. "It's not safe out nowadays, and the sun has been setting faster recently."
Kabuto and Urushi don't bother giving their own input – everyone knows the two ten year-olds will back-up her up. She could say she wanted to dominate the world and make everyone her bitch and those two would support her wholeheartedly.
"I certainly do not trust walking late out around these forests, either." Kanpu adds his own unwanted two cents in, fiddling his own pair of circular glasses. The man has been sitting the corner letting the woman logic it all out. Probably felt left out or something. "Particularly you two."
"I feel so attacked right now," Junko screws her nose. "I just came here to have a good time. Why are you all ganging up on me?"
Miyo stares at her flatly. There couldn't be a dismissal clearer than day.
Whatever. Everyone knew she'd break their new enforced curfew eventually, however long she followed it in the beginning.
"Whatever," she says as much.
"Good," Miyo grumbles, then shoos them all away – the children that is. "Now pass me those vegetables, they better not be bruised."
When they walk upstairs, the eavesdropping children scatter. Silent feet pitter back to their shared rooms.
Junko grabs Masaomi to their own room, one they share with two three-year-olds. Once the door closes behind them, she flops down onto the futon spreadeagle.
"You know–"
"Shut up."
From the disgruntled huff he makes, she imagines there's a particularly unhappy scowl on his face.
Something thwacks against her head before flopping next to it.
"Stop cutting me off! I was gonna say they're right, y'know. It's getting reeaal dark now, almost winter and all, and I don't wanna die."
She lifts her head, levels him with a flat expression. "You're not gonna die, dumbass. Just cause it's dark doesn't change the time, people'll still be out doing shit. Besides," she rolls her eyes, also rolling onto her side because keeping her head up like she is is really hurting her neck. "thought you were gonna beat Noburu up. That'd surely kill you, weakling. Can you even reach his face?"
Rather than a pillow, Masaomi throws his whole self onto her. She chokes on her breath, expelling it all with a loud 'ooph!'. He grabs a fist of her hair. "I'll show you a weakling!"
She sticks her tongue out, tries squirming away. "Oi, fuck off, your jackets still covered in rodent shit!"
"Stop swearing! You sound like a gutter rat."
"Takes one to know one, you tit."
"Twit. It's twit."
"No!"
The door opens abruptly.
It's one of the toddlers, Chihiro. She waves her hands excitedly, paying no mind to Junko wrapped around Masaomi's neck like a snake, the boy himself fisting a handful of her shirt and stringy, dark hair downwards. "Mama wants help!"
They both groan, knowing that however much Junko will vehemently refuse, and how hard Masaomi will dig holes into the ground, Miyo will absolutely take no for an answer. Why the hell she didn't just make them stay down there in the first play is beyond her.
At least Miyo only saddles them with cooking duty, quite literally the only domestic thing they both excel at.
The last time she asked for help in cleaning up the babies, Junko let them run loose in the shit-smelling mud puddles outside in the rain. Masaomi turned all the white laundry grey. Twice.
She grins her teeth down at him. "We're finishing this later."
He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah."
The following walk downstairs is full of pointy elbow jabs and too violent side nudges.
Per the usual, Junko thinks not too much about it.