"Hey, hey! Why do you call yourself with your own name Ouryuu-san?" A tiny, maybe little over 4-years-old Setsuna fires off at him.

Zeno stops in the middle of hanging another of Kuwajima-san's wife's kimono up to dry. He looks towards the child he was helping out with hanging laundry. The wind blows and Zeno feels the kimono almost slip along with the wind.

Setsuna looks at him with furrowed eyebrows, as if the question she asked was the biggest mystery of the world. Zeno smiles and he knows it's a gentle smile from how Setsuna reacts by fumbling. She looks towards her bamboo sandals and fiddles with the fabric in her hands, her ears blazing red and lips in a pout.

"Why," Zeno starts, Setsuna looks up, eyes lighting up in curiosity as he speaks. "do you want to know little lady?"

Setsuna pouts, "Because! No other grown up does it Ouryuu-san! And even the neighbors' youngest son stopped doing it after his 3rd birthday!"

Zeno chuckles, ignoring Setsuna's cry of 'it's not funny!' and pats her head. She mumbles and Zeno finally decides to answer.

"To remember it." Setsuna look at him, clearly confused.

"But I remember my name without saying it! It's Setsuna!"

"Maybe you do, but that's because there is a lot of people who say it for you, no?" Zeno inquires. "Like your parents, Jigoro-san and Sumire-san?"

Setsuna still looks confused but now there is a small glint of realization.

"Zeno has lost his Kaa-san, Tou-san, Imouto and Otouto. Zeno also lost all his friends so they won't be here to call Zeno by name. To remind Zeno what it is. Zeno also lost his wife who taught him this."

Setsuna blinks, then gapes with her mouth open, unshed tears glinting in her eyes. Her expression twists as she closes her eyes and the tears start running. She whimpers and launches herself to hug Zeno, and proceeds to mumble to his shoulder. Zeno listens as the 4-year-old cries for deaths that have long since been the past.

And Zeno soothes her, telling her it's okay.

But her cries only intensify, as she hears the tragically gentle and kind sounds in the voice of an old soul.