This is set in the same time period as the original Spy x Family—that is to say, the fictional and ambiguous 60s-70s. Also, as you'll read, the plot is definitely not the same. But we do have pretend(-to-found) family, and that's really what it's all about.
Senku was regretting a few things as he ran through the facility, his precious cargo clutched in his arms.
To start with, he regretted going left instead of right at the last turn, because he was now being chased by a bunch of meatheads much faster than he was. He activated and tossed one of his smoke canisters behind him and slipped into a side corridor while the goons' visibility was decreased. They ran right past him, and he quickly made his way back to the turn he should have taken.
Next, he was regretting not memorizing this portion of the map as closely as the part he thought he'd be working in. Not the company's provided map, of course, but the actually correct one that Gen had sourced and sold to him for probably a whole lot more than it was worth. He still had the basics memorized, though, and quickly counted doors to the unmarked exit to the garage.
Finally, he regretted not bringing any kind of first aid kit. He usually did, but he hadn't thought there would be anyone in need of rescue at the research facility.
He really should've known better.
He checked on the little girl clutching the front of his lab coat, promising himself he'd treat her as soon as he was able—but first, they needed to get out of there.
The open garage had a whole line of cars lined up and ready to go. Perfect. He'd have to work fast, but he could do it. In two of the cars, he attached the auto-drive modules he'd been working on recently. Working so fast meant their connection wasn't ideal, so they wouldn't last long, but it would be enough to distract and confuse any pursuers. He hopped into a third car, setting the girl on the floor in front of the passenger seat.
"Hang in there," he said, fingers deftly hotwiring the car for him to drive. "We'll be out of here soon."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her lift her head a little bit before curling back into a ball. His heart ached at how quiet and accepting she was about all of this. Who knew how long she had been there. Had she ever even had the chance to be a normal kid?
He wouldn't stand for it. She would live a normal, happy life and he was going to guarantee it. Enough kids' lives had been ruined by this war.
The door back to the facility smashed open just as the car sparked to life. He hit the buttons on the device that would launch the other cars into motion as he shifted his car into gear and slammed the gas pedal.
He had to reach where his getaway bike was stashed, then get to the boat that would be waiting, then to the helicopter. They'd planned for this mission to go south.
At least he'd been able to grab the files he needed, too.
Actually…
He grabbed the tiny radio he kept hidden in a groove in the leather of his belt.
"06," he said. Mission complete. "09." Civilian rescued. "20." Sufficient evidence to arrest. "19." On route to evacuate.
He waited for the four 'beeps' that meant 'four messages received,' then tucked the radio out of sight again.
This wasn't his most elegant success, but it was still a success. So far, at least. He just had to keep his wits about him until they reached a safe house.
He stopped at a spot about a quarter mile from his bike, quickly installing his last auto-drive module and grabbing the girl out of the car. The vehicle sped away as he wound his way into the undergrowth, and he found a good spot to hide until he heard his pursuers zoom past.
He breathed a small sigh of relief as the sound of their engines faded into the distance, then quickly refocused. He wasn't out of the woods yet. (Literally.)
He checked on the girl now that he had a moment. "Is there anywhere that hurts really badly?" he whispered. She shook her head. He didn't believe her for a second, but there wasn't much he could do now anyway. "We've still got a ways to go. You're doing so well." He shrugged out of his lab coat and wrapped it around her, bundling her up before he started jogging to the bike. She was so skinny—he could feel her bones in a very unsettling way. And still so quiet, just hiding her face against his chest. The way her head was tucked did make one of the metal probes attached to her head poke him, but it was nothing more than an annoyance, so he ignored it and ran on. She did turn her head without him saying anything, though.
Later, after a stressful but ultimately uneventful escape, he sat the girl down on a cot in the safe house and stretched out his aching back. He pulled off his mask and wig, slightly regretting spending all that time on it for it to be used for less than a week, then refocused on the girl.
He didn't want to call for Luna (that woman made his skin crawl), even if she was technically the doctor on call, so he decided to treat the girl himself.
She watched him as he gathered supplies he thought he might need—bandages, antibiotic cream, a pack of wipes—her brown eyes still so sad and lifeless.
He had the passing thought that this was probably how she was treated at the facility, if she was treated at all. In silence, in ignorance, possibly in fear. So he started talking, telling her what he was grabbing, what he was looking for. When he started examining her, he was sure to tell her what he wanted to do and then ask her permission. She was obviously baffled, but she nodded to any request he made.
He didn't have a clue what to do about the two probes on her head. They didn't pain her, if her non-reaction to his gentle efforts to clean around them meant anything (it might not), but he could see no obvious way to unattach them.
"They don't come off," said the girl in a very quiet voice. "They're drilled into my skull."
He froze, his heart dropping, his stomach turning. Bones were more sensitive than people realized—how much pain had she been in when he tried to clean them? Had she learned to hide her pain?
"They don't hurt," she continued
He still couldn't find anything to say. He wondered what they were made out of, if they were somehow attached to her nervous system or full of tech that would harm her if removed.
"They're just metal," she said. "100% medical grade stainless steel. No tech."
He looked at her.
She looked back.
"You're reading my thoughts," he thought, testing a hypothesis.
She nodded. "You're really smart," she said. "And kind. Thank you for saving me."
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, clearing his mind. He focused on stopping the thoughts that ran nonstop through his mind. Just…stillness. Peace.
The girl's eyes welled up with tears. "Oh," she said. "Oh, it's quiet."
How long had she been able to read minds? How long had she had to endure the nonstop mental dialogue of whoever had been in that facility?
"As long as I can remember," she said.
"How old are you?" She looked seven or eight.
She giggled. "I'm ten."
He raised an eyebrow.
"I promise. I'm small for my age, but that's just how I am."
He didn't let himself think anything else about it, instead focusing on checking the bandages around her ankles and wrists.
He got her some food and water, then had her lie down to sleep. She grabbed his hand when he went to stand after tucking her in.
"Please stay," she whispered.
And so he sat there and waited until she had fallen asleep to unleash the absolute torrent of thoughts he'd been holding back, the absolute despair at how cruel people could be (she was a kid).
He watched her sleep, her hand still tightly gripping his.
He remembered being alone at ten years old. He remembered how much he wished that someone—anyone—would love him and take care of him, that he wasn't an orphan of war. And he remembered how nobody had. Was he going to be the kind of person he had hated the most as a kid? Was he going to drop this girl off somewhere and hope someone else stepped up to the plate?
He had no idea what to do next.
Kohaku knelt in front of the traditional tea servicea, waiting for Hyoga to appear. She knew it was unusual for her to come in person and not wait for him to call her with a new job, but she had something important to say.
Eventually, Hyoga and his shadow Homura walked into the room. The man sat across from Kohaku while Homura took up her post near the wall, silent but observant.
Hyoga prepared and poured the tea. Kohaku continued to kneel. She had never really overcome her tendency to rush into trouble, but she had learned how to make herself sit still for a while if needed.
"I know why you're here," said the man. He did not, at any point, remove the mask covering his face, ignoring the cup he poured for himself. "But I want to hear you say it."
She swallowed. "I…I wanted to let you know that I won't be able to accept any more jobs from you." She also ignored the cup in front of her, more from nerves than anything else.
"As expected." He turned to look out a nearby window and let out a deep breath. "Yes, I suppose with your sister's successful husband in the picture, earning money from all his inventions, keeping up with the hospital bills isn't your task anymore."
Of course he knew. It sent shivers down her spine, even after all this time.
"It pains me to see you want to leave, Kohaku," said Hyoga. "You have an extraordinary work ethic and far-above-average skills."
She bowed her head in acknowledgment but didn't say anything.
He rose from his seat. "But an assassin that doesn't want to be an assassin isn't of much use to me. Besides, war has been avoided for now, partly thanks to your efforts." He stared into her eyes, unnervingly still. "It goes without saying, of course, that we will eliminate you should you prove a threat to us."
"I will not," she says resolutely. "I just…want to make my sister happy and live a quiet life."
At last he looked away, turning to leave. "Very well. I hope you realize I'm only allowing this because of what an asset you've been to us and how trustworthy I know you are. If you ever want to get in touch again, don't bother looking—we'll find you."
And then he was gone. Homura stayed and watched her rise and leave, and Kohaku was careful to walk exactly in the middle of every hall as she left. No need to make them think that she stole anything.
Afterwards, she went to a cafe, got a pastry, and just…sat there.
It was done. She was…maybe not "free," but more free than she had been before. She could start living a normal life, fitting herself perfectly into the part she played for Ruri's benefit. A nicer job, a better apartment, maybe even dating or marriage. Normal Kohaku Weinberg, living a normal life.
She had no clue where to even start.
Tsukasa had not been impressed when Senku showed up late, even if there was a perfectly legitimate excuse in the form of a young girl clinging to his hand.
Senku didn't even let him speak, though.
"I'm retiring," he said.
Tsukasa stared at him.
"Effective immediately."
Tsukasa's eyebrow twitched.
"Is there paperwork I need to fill out?"
Tsukasa pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Does this gig even have retirement pay? Can I put you on my resume in case I need a new job?" he teased.
"Stone," Tsukasa growled, using his code name as always, "are you kidding me right now?"
Senku felt Suika press her face into his leg and he put a comforting hand on her back. "No. I'm ten billion percent serious." He swallowed. "I kind of fell into this work, you know? And now I think I've fallen into something else. Still important. Just different."
Tsukasa looked at Suika with a critical eye. "This is the civilian you rescued from the lab?" he asked. "Why was she there?"
"Experiments," he said, voice tight. He glanced at the bandages still around her ankles and wrists. "Cruel ones. It's all in the report."
Tsukasa still looked skeptical, but he sighed and rose from behind his desk to grab a file from one of the bookcases lining the walls. "Your stubborn determination is as annoying as it is inspiring," the man muttered as he pulled out a few papers from the file.
He gestured Senku over to the desk, then handed him a pen. "This would be a whole lot harder if we were a recognized military branch, but as it is, all you need to do is read and sign these. Officially, you're retired from the army science division. All the usual contacts will still be in place, if you need references for a new job." The man leaned forward, his height lending him an ominous feel. "I think it goes without saying what will happen if you start spilling secrets."
Senku snickered. "No one will get a single millimeter of information from me, I promise."
"Hm." Tsukasa sat back down, sighing dramatically. "The retirement pay is a pittance at best. You'll want to start job hunting right away."
That worried Senku a bit. No job meant no apartment, and no apartment meant Suika would have to sleep on the streets with him. He was used to it—he did not want Suika to get used to it.
Tsukasa must've seen something on his face, because he sighed even louder and then dug around in his desk drawer until he pulled out a key. "Here. The rent's paid for the next three months. Just leave the key on the kitchen table when you find a new place."
Senku was so shocked that he didn't take the key at first.
Tsukasa finally cracked a smile, a very small one. "I get it. I know what wanting to protect someone is like."
Oh. Tsukasa had had a younger sister, he remembered. Senku didn't know what had happened, but that little girl wasn't around any more. He set his hand on top of Suika's head and hoped things went better for the two of them.
"Besides, when you're not being a complete pain in my neck, you've been a good friend. We may not ever see each other again, so…here's my thanks and 'good luck' and all that."
Senku took the key, staring at it and the little tag with the address written on it. "Well," he said, not quite able to muster his usual levels of sarcasm, "I appreciate it. Thank you, Tsukasa."
There was nothing more to do, so he ushered Suika back to the elevator.
"Senku," Tsukasa called, and it was startling to hear his real name from the man, but he turned a bit. "If you ever want to rejoin, go to the Berlint Hospital and ask to speak with Doctor Forger."
Senku nodded. He didn't think he ever would, but it was nice to know the option was there.
Kohaku was starting to hate her new job.
This was her second week of working at City Hall. She had been hit on three times, groped once, reprimanded for punching the guy that groped her (the guy got off with a "warning"), and to stop it off, her coworkers were catty and snide.
Her new apartment also sucked. Without the funds from her assassin gigs, she couldn't afford her old apartment, and her current job didn't pay enough for a nicer one. To keep up the charade she had built, she told Ruri and Chrome that she'd been fired from her job (and then she quit her old cover job).
And just because things weren't bad enough, she'd panicked and told her sister she was dating someone to keep her from asking questions about a coworker's dinner party, but of course Ruri wanted to meet the person, and now she had to find a someone to ask to go to a party she didn't want to go to in the first place.
Once again, she didn't know what to do.
She started by heading to the bakery to get herself a pastry.
"I can really get anything?" asked a small girl clinging to a man's hand in front of the counter.
"Just one treat. But yes, you can pick anything," said the man. He glanced back at Kohaku, then tugged the girl off to the side. "Go ahead," he told Kohaku with a smirk. "I think we'll be looking for a while."
Kohaku couldn't help but watch them in her periphery as she placed her usual order. They looked nothing alike, and the girl looked frightened of everything but the man holding her hand. All of her clothes were new—no scuffs or wear, the dress still crisp from being starched at the store, the shoes still shiny and uncomfortable, if the way she kept shifting her feet in them meant anything. And she was obviously overwhelmed and excited about going to a cafe.
Recent adoption or foster kid, or maybe a stepchild, she guessed. Father, rather than uncle or parent's friend. She sighed as she paid. Too bad he's married, then. He's kind of cute. I was thinking of asking him to go on that fake dinner date with me.
The little girl gasped, then said, "I sure wish I had a mama who could get a treat with us."
The man blinked down at her. "What?"
"A mama! I don't have one, and I think it'd be nice to have one!"
Oh? Well, then. Maybe she did have a chance.
She couldn't just barge in and ask him to go on a date first thing, though. Maybe a bit of conversation? She walked over to them, smiling at them. "Have you picked a treat yet?" she asked the girl.
The girl shook her head and half hid behind her father's leg. "There's so many! I want to try them all!"
The man laughed and put his hand on her head. "We'll just keep coming back so you can try them all. One treat at a time, though."
"Papaaaa," whined the little girl, who sighed before mumbling, "alright."
Looking more closely at her, Kohaku could see the pallor of the little girl's cheeks. If Kohaku had to guess, the girl had been stuck inside until recently—maybe a bad orphanage or an illness. It…it reminded Kohaku of Ruri.
"Well, I can tell you my favorite so you have a place to start!" Kohaku said, gesturing for the girl to come over to the case so she could see more clearly. "This one," she said, pointing to the treat. "It's a chocolate croissant. I just got one myself!"
"Papa!" said the girl, grabbing her father by the sleeve. "Papa, I want a chocolate crows—cross—cress—um, that one!"
The man nodded. "Sure. Hot cocoa, too?"
The girl's eyes widened comically large behind her glasses. "Yes! Yes, yes please!"
The man placed his order and started leading his daughter to a booth. Kohaku sighed. Well, so much for that.
"Wait!" said the girl, running back to her and grabbing her hand. "Miss, you gotta sit with us! So I can tell you if I like the crowsant!"
"Suika," chided the man, "don't bother her." He looked up at Kohaku, his oddly-colored eyes meeting hers. "Sorry, ma'am. We'll let you enjoy your croissant in peace."
"I—I don't mind!" Kohaku found herself saying, her shoulders creeping up to her ears. "It's your first time trying one, right?" she said to the girl. Suika, was it? Suika nodded. "Then it will be fun to see what you think!"
The man eyed her, face expressionless.
"Please, Papa?" asked Suika. "I like her. I think she's nice."
The man sighed. "Well, alright then. Shall we?"
"I'm Kohaku," she said after they sat down. "Kohaku Weinberg."
"Senku Ishigami," said the man, "and this is my daughter."
"I'm Suika!"
Kohaku smiled at the girl's enthusiasm. She really warmed up to people quickly, didn't she? "It's nice to meet you both." She hadn't seen them around before, and she wondered if they had moved in recently or were just visiting, but was that too intrusive for a first conversation?
"We just moved here!" Suika told her. "Papa's going to teach chemistry at the university."
Kohaku raised her eyebrows. He looked pretty young—he must be very smart. "Wow, congratulations. I hope you like it here."
Senku nodded. "I'm sure we will. Everyone has been very welcoming so far."
"What do you do?" asked Suika.
Her father looked pained by the girl's candid boldness. Kohaku found it refreshing. "I work at City Hall." I hate it.
Suika hummed and eyed her thoughtfully. "That sounds boring." Senku covered his face with a hand and sighed. "What do you do for fun?"
I can't say martial arts. Everyone thinks women who like to fight are strange. "I like to exercise," she said instead.
The worker brought out their orders—both of them—and Suika was staring at her pastry with wide eyes.
Kohaku saw Senku take a sip of his coffee (a latte, rather than the straight black she would have guessed), and if she hadn't been paying attention, she probably would have thought him ignorant or uncaring of his daughter's moment with the pastry. He was keeping a steady eye on her, though, looking ready to intervene should this somehow prove too challenging.
"Papa," she whispered. "How do I eat the whole thing?" Was she not used to treats at all?
"You don't have to eat it all right now. We'll take whatever you don't eat home and you'll have a good snack for later," he said in an equally quiet voice. She continued staring, eyes glazing over, and Senku reached over to feel her forehead. "Doing okay?" he asked. "Do we need to go?"
Suika shook her head, but she winced like she had a headache. "I'm okay, I promise. It's just…um, there's a lot of people…"
Kohaku wondered if it was an anxiety thing. Whatever the reason, she could help with that, at least. She cleared her throat lightly to get Senku's attention. "Have you visited the park just down the street from here? It's usually pretty empty this time of day."
Suika brightened, then frowned at her drink.
Kohaku laughed. "They have to-go cups here, if you want to bring your drinks as well." Suika leapt from the booth to run to the counter.
Kohaku watched her wave to get the barista's attention (maybe she wasn't shy with people after all), then turned back to Senku.
He…did not look especially happy.
"Your daughter is very sweet," Kohaku said, face flushing. She was very aware of how she had just sort of butted into their day.
He stared a moment longer, brows lowered…then sighed and slumped down a little bit. "Yeah, she's great. That's nothing to do with me, though."
Kohaku huffed. "No, it's everything to do with you. You care, right? You're here buying her sweets she's never tried, making sure she's okay. She's not afraid to be a bit of a brat, but she's so sweet-hearted that she wouldn't anyways." She bit her lip as she realized what she had said—was that weird? Too much? She needed to practice normal conversation.
Senku was looking at her with wide eyes, though, a hint of a blush on his cheeks. Was he…nervous about being a dad? Single parenthood was never easy, but he was obviously doing his best. Was he worried he wasn't doing well enough? He cracked a smile, and it suited him—he should smile often.
Senku hadn't expected to have a third person join their day, but Suika seemed determined to get the woman—Kohaku—to come with them everywhere they'd planned to go. At least she was nice.
Maybe too nice.
Suika squeezed his hand then, and he looked down at her. "Papa. I told you—I like her. She's a good person." And then widened her eyes meaningfully.
Oh, right. The mind reading thing. Well, what if Suika misunderstood? How did mind reading work, anyways? He wouldn't be much of a scientist if he just took other people's word for everything, and this was no different.
Suika grumbled but kept holding his hand. He gently squeezed back. Sorry. I want us to be safe.
But Kohaku just kept being nice, and being observant about what Suika was doing and feeling, and they had a nice day, all things considered.
It was at the end of the day, when Suika was looking through a shop window, that Kohaku seemed a bit nervous. "Say, Senku…I know we just met today, but I was wondering…ah, would you like to go to a dinner party with me?"
He quickly stepped away from her. No. No, no, no. He did not want any romantic nonsense happening in his life.
"It's just…!" She sighed. "Look, I'm not looking for a relationship. My sister is worried about me, though, and she thinks I need a partner, and we've had a pretty good time today, so if you wouldn't mind being my fake date to a party and maybe to meet my sister, I would really appreciate it. I'd pay you back somehow, of course." She was tugging the sleeves of her coat, too nervous to make eye contact.
"Your sister, huh?"
Kohaku nodded. "Yes. She's been sick since we were kids, and I've been trying to keep her from worrying about me, but then I panicked and said something dumb, and…even if it's pretend, it will help her not worry about me, and that's enough for me."
He could respect that.
Kohaku continued with a small scowl, "And…people are weird about single women in their late twenties. If I show up to the dinner with a boyfriend, maybe they'll leave me alone."
Senku tilted his head, considering. Suika liked her…and there were benefits for both parties…
Well, that was a conversation for later. "Sure, I don't mind."
She beamed at him, her whole face lighting up. "Oh, thank you! The party is this Friday. Would you be okay to meet me there?" He nodded and she gave him the address. "Okay, I'll see you then."
The rest of the week passed quickly, and soon it was Friday. Only…well, he was running late.
A half-hour after he was supposed to meet Kohaku at the corner so they could walk to the party together, he arrived.
He saw the blatant relief on Kohaku's face as she saw him. Had she worried he'd stood her up?
He also saw the moment she realized why he was late. Her lips pressed together and her eyes sparkled—because Suika was holding his hand, dressed in a nice party dress and matching beanie, looking completely innocent of any misbehavior.
"Sorry," he said as they got close. "Someone insisted on coming with me."
Suika smiled up at Kohaku.
Kohaku laughed. "Alright, that's fine. Let's get going, shall we?"
The party was…awkward. Kohaku's coworkers were snide and gossipy, and he saw a few men leering at her until they registered his presence by her side. She was polite, though, even when some particularly rude words about her figure and relationship status were spoken a bit too close and loud to be unintentional.
Suika played with the other kids in a corner with some toys set out. Hopefully the thoughts of the kids would drown out the nonsense he was sure was happening in the brains of the adults.
When one man, obviously drunk, wandered over and started posturing like some exotic bird (flirting? With Senku or Kohaku? Unclear), Senku couldn't help but laugh. He immediately regretted it when the guy proceeded to launch fists at his face.
Senku had had to do some physical training to be a spy, even if his work was usually in labs or hospitals or offices. He'd always been terrible at the physical stuff, and he'd always hated being beat up. He knew how to take a punch, though, and prepared for impact.
It never came. Kohaku did…something, and the guy was falling backwards with a bloody nose.
And then Kohaku was promptly asked to leave and not to bother coming back to work tomorrow.
Which is how he, Suika, and Kohaku came to be walking down the street, Kohaku muttering and clenching her fists.
Senku felt awful—this was supposed to be a favor to her. He'd do this, meet her sister, then bring up a long-term arrangement for both their benefit: her to avoid weirdos at work, him to avoid people who gave him trouble about being a single parent (like the group he'd rescued Suika from who were no doubt looking for him).
And now she'd lost her job because he'd laughed at a guy who took it way too personally.
"Kohaku," he said, "I'm so sorry. I…I'll help you find another job if you want, or just…maybe pay you? I know how tough the job market is right now."
She waved his offers off, instead wandering over to a bench to plop down and hide her face in her hands. Suika looked between Kohaku and Senku before running over to the woman to give her a hug.
Kohaku laughed and hugged the girl back, but Senku could see her red eyes—she'd been crying, or about to.
"Don't worry about it," she said to both of them in a voice that could pass for cheerful. "I didn't like that job much anyways."
Suika was considering her thoughtfully and Senku wondered what she was "hearing" from Kohaku.
"You're really strong, Miss," Suika said. "I bet you could be a great gym teacher or something."
What was Suika up to?
"Or maybe…uh, papa, what's it called when you learn to fight back?"
"Self defense?"
"Yeah! A self defense teacher! A lot of ladies have to deal with gross men, right?" How did Suika know that? "So you can teach them how to beat them up or something! Or how to get away, or anything, really."
Kohaku smiled at Suika and said, "Those are really good ideas, Suika. I'll keep those in mind while I'm looking for a new job." Then she sighed and turned back to the street. "I guess I'll have to ask my sister if I can move in with her in the meantime."
"Move in with us."
Senku had a moment of disbelief that Suika would offer that before he realized he had spoken. Ah, crap.
Both of his companions were looking at him with wide eyes.
He cleared his throat. "Just for appearances. You said people made being a single woman near thirty a pain, right? Same with being a single dad. Not as bad, I'm sure, though. But we could…pretend to be in a relationship, to be married, live in the same house, like roommates." He was aware this was out of the blue and he wouldn't be surprised if Kohaku punched him in the face as well before storming off. "It would solve problems for both of us."
Kohaku seemed to be considering it. She looked down at Suika and started to say something, but Suika cut her off, bouncing up and down. "Yes! Come stay with us! I'd love that so much!"
Kohaku laughed and rubbed her eyes. "Really? That would actually be great. Um…well, if you're serious, then do you want to get married? I can meet you at the courthouse tomorrow. I'll bring my sister and her husband. It'll…be a whole little thing." She squeezed Suika a bit closer. "We could even get a little cake or something to celebrate."
And so it was that Senku was engaged to a woman he'd known for a week.
He spent Saturday morning looking at rings (he'd asked for her ring size before they parted ways the night before) and Suika helped him pick one that she thought Kohaku would like while he picked a plain, sensible band for himself.
As an afterthought, and since he had some time to kill, he stopped by Gen's shop to tell him the news—both the fact that Senku had become a father and was getting married.
Gen invited himself to the wedding ("You'll need a best man, won't you?"), then won Suika's affection with some tricks with some flowers. (She demanded he show her lots of times so she could figure out how he did it, which he obliged her with.)
When Suika ran ahead to pick her own flower to practice with, Gen hissed in his ear, "What mission requires both a kid and a wife?"
Senku shrugged. "None. I retired. I'm going to be a university teacher."
Gen laughed, then seemed to realize Senku was being entirely serious. "Wait, so you got a kid and wife because you wanted to?"
Senku looked at Suika, now picking herself a little bouquet. "More or less." When Suika ran back to him and asked if he thought Kohaku would like it for the wedding, he smiled at her. "I think she will." It's from you, kiddo. I'm sure she'll love it.
Kohaku thought her sister was taking the impending wedding well, all things considered. That, or she'd gone into shock. At least Chrome brought a camera—she wasn't sure Ruri was going to remember any of this.
Suika was absolutely adorable, as expected. She wore a fluffy dress that made her look like a flower, and Kohaku almost melted when the girl handed her a hand-picked bouquet.
Senku looked…Kohaku bit her lip to keep from laughing. He'd brought a friend, and that friend was fussing about Senku's suit and hair. Senku, looking very harassed, quickly came to stand next to Kohaku.
"Quick, introduce me to your sister," he hissed, "and maybe Gen will leave me alone."
Laughing, she brought him over and made the introductions.
He and Chrome really hit it off once Senku mentioned his upcoming position at the university Chrome worked at, and the two of them were gabbing about minerals or something until Ruri started herding them inside. "It's time for our appointment," she said. "Let's get you two married!"
Ruri knew they were getting married for convenience, but she was fully committed to making Senku and Suika feel welcomed and part of the family.
The judge married them quickly and they signed the register.
Oh. It's not Weinberg anymore, is it? Kohaku Ishigami. Huh.
"Do you have any rings to exchange?" asked the judge. Suika stepped up to them, hands outstretched.
And Kohaku nearly had a heart attack, because the ring Senku picked up to put on her finger looked an awful lot like her mother's old ring. It wasn't—too new, the filigree slightly different—but they were very much the same style.
She hadn't thought about her mother's ring in so long (they'd had to pawn it for food money), and she'd briefly let herself imagine having it for her wedding when Senku asked her to marry him, but to have it be so similar…
"Do you not like the ring?" Senku asked in a quiet voice when she had stood unmoving for a bit too long. "We can return it—"
"It's perfect," she said, holding out her hand for Senku to put it on. "It's absolutely perfect. Thank you so much." She gave his hand a squeeze after he slid the ring on and blinked back the tears of emotion trying to escape her. Senku looked a little worried, but he didn't say anything else about it and let her slide the plain metal band onto his finger.
And then it was off to Chrome and Ruri's house to celebrate.
They walked there, and Suika held both Kohaku and Senku's hands, swinging her arms back and forth and humming. Kohaku knew it was an act, a pretend family—but she decided she was going to make it work. She'd give her all, just like she always did, and do her best to be the mother Suika needed and a good roommate to Senku.
She didn't know, of course, that Senku was thinking much along the same lines. I'll give it ten billion percent, he promised himself. I'll be the kind of man Byakuya would be proud to call a son, even if I don't think this was how he ever imagined getting a daughter-in-law and grandchild.
As for Suika, she was feeling quite proud of herself for having found a dad, a mom, an aunt, and two uncles (she was counting Gen as an uncle—he was weird but nice) within a quarter of a year of being rescued.
Now all she needed was a dog, and she'd be the happiest girl in the world.