When Sing reached for his phone midway through the day on Monday, he thought it would be Ash with news on the reporter, or Yut-Lung with news from Ash.

Instead, it was their kids' school, the same elementary school Ash and Eiji's kids attended and if Cain ever had kids, where they would go, considering it was the best school in New York and Yut-Lung had a way of convincing Ash and Eiji to let him pay. Sing answered quickly. Was one of them sick?

"There's been an incident with Xiaoli and Jingwei Sing," the receptionist told him. "It'd be good if you could come down quickly."

"Are they okay?" Sing blurted out.

"Yes."

Shit. Sing texted Yut-Lung as he jumped in his car, speeding over to the school. His mind churned with all sorts of horrible ideas—what if—she said they were okay, but did that really mean—

Sing burst into the principal's office to see Xiaoli crying in a chair cushioned in a garish orange, a chair that was way too big for her. Jingwei huddled next to his sister. Relief shot through Sing at the sight of them. He scrambled over to them.

"Dad!" shrieked Jingwei. Xiaoli wailed, crying harder.

Sing glanced at the receptionist. "Xiaoli, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"She punched one of the boys in my class," said Jingwei, his lisp very prevalent like it always was when he was upset. "They were mean."

"What?" Now Sing's blood boiled. He removed his sunglasses. "Xiaoli, it's okay, all right? I'm here." He pulled his daughter closer to his chest. Her pigtails were mussed. He rubbed her back. She threw her arms around his neck.

"Mr. Sing?" asked the principal's voice. He was a stodgy kind of man, grizzled beard and eyes with deep circles shadowing an upturned nose. His shirt was buttoned too tightly, up to the top of his collar. Sing glanced down at his ripped jeans and leather jacket.

"I don't want them to have the Lee name," Yut-Lung had insisted. "Please."

"But they're your children too. That's a part of your legacy," Sing had pointed out.

"I know," said Yut-Lung. "But, please. Let their name be free from that, at least."

He followed the principal—Miller, according to the plaque on his desk—into his office, Jingwei trailing and Xiaoli not letting go of his neck. Sing's brain was still trying to put the pieces together. Xiaoli, punch someone? She liked sports and was always trying to play soccer with him or Lao outside, but she wasn't violent. Kids got into fights all the time. Because they were kids and didn't know how else to solve things.

Some never learn, and some learn late. He flexed his hand, and felt dragon fang.

"Your daughter punched a boy at recess today."

Sing sighed. "I heard."

"He was making fun of how I talk," Jingwei piped up.

Sing gritted his teeth. He didn't want Xiaoli to solve all her problems through punching people. But if the kids were at it again… Yut-Lung had already been sent a note home from Jingwei's teacher about bullying beforehand, and Yut-Lung had cried that night, worrying about if they should homeschool their son or not. "I don't want him to feel like he's less than any of them. It's a terrible way for a child to feel."

"Isolating kids doesn't help either," Sing had pointed out, and Yut-Lung had bitten his lip so hard he almost bled, but agreed.

"The boy claims he was just asking Jingwei to wait his turn to use the basketball. Xiaoli was playing with them."

"He was," said Jingwei. "But then he said I was—stupid—'cause I can't talk right!"

Sing narrowed his eyes. "Xiaoli?"

"He imitated his voice," mumbled Xiaoli, pulling herself away from Sing with a hiccup. "And then he—called me a boy too and so I—"

Sing wiped her tears with his thumbs. "It's okay, Xiaoli." He glared at the principal. "This isn't acceptable."

"I agree, but we've no proof who is—"

"It's two against one?"

"Yes, but—"

"I don't want to hear about bullying at this school again," Sing said.

"If you and your wife—"

"Husband, actually," Sing cut in.

The principal's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, of course."

"Xiaoli will write an apology and do whatever punishment you have for her," Sing said. "As I agree. Xiaoli, you can't punch people. No matter what. Punching them won't solve anything. But my kids aren't going to be bullied here. I know Jingwei's dealt with it in his class."

"An apology and a day's suspension," confirmed Mr. Miller. "Jingwei is not in trouble, of course. He was screaming when his teacher tried to make him go back to class, so—"

"I'll sign him out, too," said Sing. "And pick up Mingyu later. Is she—"

"She was upset, but her teacher said she's okay in class." Mr. Miller rose. "I know we're not perfect, but we're trying here, Mr. Sing."

I wish you could try harder. Still, Sing nodded.

He carried Xiaoli out to the car. She was still sniffling. Sing slammed the door, climbing into the driver's seat with the kids buckled in the back.

"Are you mad at me?" Xiaoli finally eked out.

He exhaled. "No. But if you do that again if there are any other options, I will give you no dessert for a week." Sing glanced in the rearview mirror.

"Noah's mean."

"He sounds it, but get a teacher next time." You don't have to handle everything yourself.

But what if teachers won't help?

I hate this. I wish the world was a better place.

There aren't easy answers. "Not because I don't want you to stop it, but because I don't want you to get in trouble. You're very upset."

Xiaoli sniffled.

"It's my fault," Jingwei mumbled. "No one likes me except Aurora, and Evie. Everyone says I sound too weird. I'm—"

Xiaoli bit her lip. "I like you."

"Yeah, but friends. You're just a sister."

"Evie isn't even real! I'm real!"

"Evie doesn't yell at me!"

"Evie also doesn't punch—"

"Hey!" Sing cut in. "I mean it, Xiaoli. Stop it. And Jingwei, this—it is not because of you." Sing pulled into their driveway. His heart thumped.

He remembered the nights he lay awake, staring at a cracked ceiling, wondering, wondering if it was all because of him, his weakness, because he wasn't cut out to be a boss, to protect his guys. He'd spent countless nights listening to Yut-Lung wake up with a start, a sharp gasp, seeing in his eyes that he was asking himself if he was worth anything because of what created him, if the blood in his veins stamped him with a life story before he'd lived it.

Don't blame yourself.

I love you, Yut-Lung. It was all he could say in those moments, and stroke his hair, and Yut-Lung would lean back into his palm.

"I hate my voice," grumbled Jingwei.

Sing flinched, turning around in his seat. "Well, I love your voice. Lisp or no lisp."

"Why?"

"Because it's your voice," said Sing.

"Noah said that with Jingwei and me, you must be embarrassed," whispered Xiaoli.

Bullshit, break his nose next time.

No, Sing, be an adult. "I don't care how different or unusual it is. It's your voice. You're my kids, you and Mingyu. You're never a burden. Even if Xiaoli goes and beats up Noah next time, breaks his arm, I'll still come for you. Even if one of you makes fun of the other one, I'll be upset, but I would never be embarrassed to call you my kids. Even if you killed people or yelled at each other 24/7."

I can't hate you.

I love you both just because you exist.

He could see it bleeding out from Xiaoli, though, in all she said and did. She just wanted to know she was wanted. She couldn't remember the orphanage, but they'd been honest about her background and Mingyu's from the beginning, and while Jingwei and Mingyu seemed well adjusted, Xiaoli seemed to be struggling, worrying that she was a burden constantly, believing she had to protect her brother.

Please let it be enough.

Xiaoli giggled. "I'd never do that!"

I have, Sing thought. And so has Yut-Lung, and Ash, and your Uncle Lao and Grandpa Blanca. "Hey," he added. "Kids used to make fun of me for being such a shrimp as a kid. Uncle Lao and our friend Shorter beat them up for me once. Badly. They got expelled, actually." He frowned.

"Nadia's brother?" asked Xiaoli.

"That's right." Sing turned off the car.

"Evie says Noah is mean," Jingwei reported.

"Evie's not real," snapped Xiaoli again, now that they were back to Jingwei's magical imaginary friend.

"Yes, she is! I made her real because I drew her so much!"

Sing moaned.

"I'll kill the little shithead," Lao declared.

"Lao, he's a kid too!"

"Can I buy Xiaoli a present to reward her?"

"Lao, for God's sake." Sing rolled his eyes. He'd been responsible and made Xiaoli study instead of playing outside during the day. Then again, it was borderline too cold to go outside even with mittens. Yut-Lung had texted that he was writing the principal a very strongly worded email, which Sing felt certain meant poor Mr. Miller was about to be reduced to ribbons by Yut-Lung's sharp tongue. But at least Yut-Lung hadn't suggested pulling them from school again.

The door opened. Yut-Lung, with Mingyu. She raced to Sing.

"Talk to you later, Lao," Sing said. "Princess is home."

Mingyu almost knocked him over with her hug. "Sorry, Dad. I didn't see what was—happening until Griffin got me, and then—"

"Not your fault," Sing assured her. "Xiaoli is okay. So is Jingwei."

"But I'm the oldest. I should take care of them."

This part of Lao is not welcome here. Sing shook his head, rubbing her head. "You did nothing wrong, Mingyu."

She swallowed and nodded.

"Mingyu," whined Xiaoli, appearing in the corner. "Help me with math?"

Mingyu nodded, hurrying after her sister. Yut-Lung scooped Jingwei up in his arms, meeting Sing's eyes.

You want to protect them from everything.

So do I.

Why weren't you protected?

"Akira called about coming over for makeup advice for a big date with Michael," said Yut-Lung, rolling his eyes, but he smiled.

"Can I watch?" called Mingyu, perched on the couch next to Xiaoli, who wrinkled her nose.

"Yes." Yut-Lung smirked. He set Jingwei down. "I spoke to Ash and he got in touch briefly with the reporter, but they kind of blew him off. Ibe said he would be looking—"

The doorbell rang. Sing arched his eyebrows. "Akira?"

"No, a special guest for dinner." Yut-Lung smirked. "To discuss things. Ash doesn't want things getting out, not when he's got kids to worry about. Their ages wouldn't protect them from their peers. It's best if no one talks to the reporter, but sooner or later someone's bound to. Kong, Bones, Alex, and Cain already refused interviews, but someone else will talk."

"I'll tell my guys who're still around if they do, I'll retaliate," Sing stated. An empty threat. Wasn't it? Or was it not? He'd left the underworld.

"They'll listen," Yut-Lung said. "They all still respect you."

Sing relaxed.

One of the servants led Blanca into the room.

"Blanca!" shrieked Jingwei, racing towards him. "Make me fly, Blanca!" He raised his arms up.

"What am I, chopped liver," mumbled Sing. "He's not that much taller than me."

Yut-Lung snickered. Sing would never forget the time he and Yut-Lung got Blanca to watch the kids a few years ago, and returned from their trip to find Blanca with his hair braided by Mingyu and running around pretending to be a grumpy bear chasing them as they shrieked and giggled. Yut-Lung videotaped it for a few minutes before Blanca saw and threatened to destroy the tape. And he could have, but thus far he hadn't, not even when they shared it with Ash and Eiji.

They'll be okay, Sing thought. We're all going to protect them, and Ash, you too.

And hey. "On the topic of the bullying: worst case scenario, we ask Blanca to teach Jingwei some self defense," Sing hissed.

Yut-Lung tapped his chin as if considering.

"A joke!"

"Dad?" Mingyu peered up at him.

"Yes?"

"What's going on with this reporter and Ash?"

Yut-Lung's skin turned the color of curdled milk.

"Nothing," Sing said, ruffling Mingyu's hair.

She frowned. "You send us to our rooms if we lie."

Dammit. Sing exhaled. "You know how kids bully Jingwei for his lisp?"

Mingyu nodded, folding her arms, standing exactly like Yut-Lung always did.

"Well, some reporter wants to bully Ash," said Sing. "A lot of people do. But you don't need to worry. We're adults, and we'll stop them."

Mingyu scowled. "But Ash is the best."

Sing snorted. Yut-Lung smirked. He didn't even care. He knew Mingyu was his little princess. Sing's heart lifted.

"Why are adults so mean?"

"That," Sing said. "Is a good question."

"They should write a report saying how awesome all of you are," Mingyu declared. "You and Daddy and Eiji and Ash too." She turned, flouncing towards Blanca, probably to show him her new barrette.

Yut-Lung sighed. "Good job."

"If you were that reporter," said Eiji, propping his chin up on his hand as they lay in their darkened room. "What would you do?"

Ash moaned. "Give up the story."

"You don't give up on anything, Ash. I remember you and Shorter playing a Monopoly game until five in the morning on that road trip."

Ash hit Eiji over the head with his pillow. Eiji laughed. He closed his eyes. "Probably track down friends and relatives."

"You've already thought about this." It wasn't a question.

Ash exhaled. "It's hardly on my list of places I want to go, Eiji. I doubt he'd talk to any reporter, anyway. Pull a gun on them and tell them to get off his lawn, more likely."

Eiji said nothing.

"He hasn't seen Aurora since she was two, and Griffin six," Ash admitted. They did mail Christmas cards. Some years, anyways. Not this year, when Ash wasn't sure they ought to send pictures of their kids' faces through the post.

"I'd go with you," Eiji said. "We could have Max watch the kids, or Yut-Lung and Sing."

"Nah, if we go, he'd at least like to see them," Ash said. "Probably. And he'd ask about them and be mad if I don't bring them, so long as we take them away at night." Though his father hadn't attended their wedding celebration, and seemed to view it as odd that he and Eiji were married and adopting kids. But he had enjoyed teaching Griffin how to bake last time they visited, because Griffin asked him about one of Jennifer's old recipes. Or at least, he ruffled Griffin's hair and told him he was a budding chef. That was as close as he came to looking like he was enjoying anything.

Guilt pinched Ash over Jennifer again. Eiji rested his hand on Ash's shoulder.

He used to be willing to do anything for those hair ruffles himself, whenever Griffin took him to visit his father. But he heard him telling Jennifer. "Once Griff leaves, we'll have to deal with that kid all on our own."

"Aslan is sweet!" she'd protested.

Why didn't you want me? Was it just because I reminded you of my mother? Why did you choose her over Griffin's mother? Why?

Ash remembered the shock settling in his stomach like a huge bowling ball when he and Eiji went over for dinner and found Yut-Lung and Sing with an infant. But she was beautiful, Mingyu was, and adorable, and she laughed when Eiji made faces at her, and she fell asleep in Ash's arms and cried when Sing lifted her away.

"Would you ever want to?" Eiji asked him a few days later, and Ash's stomach had somersaulted, sweat prickling on the back of his neck, his throat tightening up.

"And what?" he'd asked, voice cold. "Have them write essays like 'my dad is a fireman!' 'mine is a soldier' and 'mine is a former porn star and hooker and gang-leading murderer!'"

Silence. Ash clamped his palms to his face. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"I always wrote that my dad was kind," Eiji said quietly. "Even though he couldn't work, because he was dying." He'd passed away a year before.

"I wrote mine was a soldier," Ash said finally. "Griffin." He flopped down, elbow resting over his eyes.

"We don't have to," Eiji added. "I was just—wondering."

"I know," Ash said. "I'm sorry for snapping." But if you were with someone else, some nice girl—or, okay, guy, since Eiji had once admitted to Ash that he'd never been interested in a single girl—you might.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?" Ash asked, feigning innocence.

"Blame yourself." Eiji peered up at him, hugging a pillow to his chest. "I want to be with you, remember?"

Did he remember. He'd almost had a heart attack when he asked Eiji to marry him, and cried when Eiji said yes. And then they went to city hall with Cain and Alex and signed papers, and then Jessica and Max and Yut-Lung and Sing blew up at them, calling Nadia Wong and getting her and Charlie involved too, and then they had a celebration at Chang Dai. All paid for by Yut-Lung.

He brought it up with Max next, asking him about having kids, how he knew that it was okay with Michael. Max told him Michael wasn't planned, but that it hadn't mattered. Ash framed each aspect of the conversation as "how could Yut-Lung ever do this; Sing I understand but Yut-Lung" "how could he not be terrified constantly" "especially someone with his life" until Max finally saw through the bullshit, clapped Ash on the shoulder, and told him that if he and Eiji ever decided to adopt, they'd figure it out. "No one figures it out ahead of time."

Ash hung his head.

"I think Jessica and I became better parents once we knew how much we had fucked up," Max added. "Which you, by the way, pointed out to us, Ash."

Ash cringed, remembering Michael's birthday in California.

It was a few months later until Ash brought it up to Yut-Lung, because he knew Yut-Lung was better than anyone he knew at keeping secrets. And a few more months until Yut-Lung told him he knew of a baby boy, eighteen months old, up for adoption. His mother had been a prostitute murdered by a client, and he was half-Asian. And Ash spent the entire first six months terrified he was accidentally going to drop or poison or otherwise harm the kid.

But he loved Griffin, and he was the one who asked Eiji for another adoption a few years later. Aurora they'd adopted as an infant.

And they were what he was most proud of in his entire life.

"Wow!" Aurora peered out the car window, watching as they drove over the Bourne bridge to Cape Cod. "This place is so cool!"

Ash nodded, even though he felt slightly nauseated. Eiji glanced at him.

It was another half hour before they rolled down the road towards the diner. He and Eiji entered, Aurora clinging to Eiji's pant leg. Griffin glanced around, his eyes lighting up when he saw his grandfather. Ash's chest burned.

His father arched his eyebrows.

"Hi!" chirped Aurora, waving one of her pink mittens. "I'm Aurora. I'm five."

"Hi," Griffin said quietly, shyly. Some of the customers, grizzled elderly men who looked as if they ate the same eggs benedict every morning, turned to watch.

Ash's face reddened. "Nice to see you, old man."

His father sighed. "Want breakfast?"

"I'm starving," Aurora announced. "We got up when it was still dark out!"

Yes, and you kicked me when I pulled you out of bed, Ash thought with a wry smile.

"Can I help you?" asked Griffin.

His father almost smiled. "Not unless you're a licensed chef. In a few years. Pancakes okay?"

Ash sighed. Great, a sugar-high would make for an excellent five hour ride back down to New York City when Aurora eventually crashed.

"Sure," Eiji chirped.

To his credit, his father put extra strawberries and whipped cream on the kids' pancakes.

"Want me to take the kids to the beach?" Eiji asked. "We can walk along the shoreline; Griffin likes the ocean. You guys can talk. Or do you want me here?"

Ash gulped. "I want you here, but I don't want them here."

Eiji nodded. He squeezed Ash's hand.

"Still making that marriage work, huh?" his father commented once he'd closed the diner.

Ash helped him wipe down counters and tables. "Yeah. Eiji's someone I love."

"Griffin's a sweet kid. Reminds me of his namesake."

Ash swallowed. "Yeah, he reminds me of him too."

"Aurora seems like she's a handful."

"In the best way," Ash agreed, dipping the rag inside a bucket of cleaning fluid. It stung his chapped knuckles. "Griffin's got straight As."

"Gonna keep him in school, or let him join a gang when he gets old enough?"

Ash stiffened. "He's not allowed to join any gangs." He'd already told Eiji. The second Griff or Aurora showed any signs of hanging out with the wrong crowd, he was packing them up and moving them to Japan.

"Guess he doesn't seem the type. Too sensitive." His father scrubbed at a coffee stain. "Then again, you weren't much different. You were sensitive and quiet, too."

Ash closed his eyes. He remembered the jack o'lantern, huddling in the woods alone, scared of his reflection. "Well, I was raped and you told me to make him pay. I kinda didn't have much of a chance."

His father froze.

The words bubbled up, words twisting and churning and tumbling like nausea that he couldn't keep in. Rancid and rotting, too long stored inside, they poured out of him. "Why did you do that?" Ash asked. "Why didn't you—why—"

"You don't un—"

"I have two kids of my own! And I'd never let—if anyone hurt them, I'd—" Ash's lips trembled.

"What? Kill them? You've killed for far less—"

"What do you even know?" Ash bellowed. He clenched his fists. He couldn't imagine—Griffin was older than he'd been, and he—Mingyu was the same age he was when he killed the coach—they're so innocent!

Did you ever love me?

No, you did. I know you did.

And somehow that makes it hurt worse.

"I understand him more than you think," Blanca had once said about Ash's dad. "You don't always know how to love people, and you're afraid."

Well, I don't have that luxury!

Ash closed his eyes. "Forget it. I didn't come here to fight." He pried his eyes open. His father's face looked older than ever, lined and drooping, lonely and swollen. "There's a reporter who seems determined to hunt down information on me. And on Griff—my brother Griff. They'll probably come calling here." He swallowed.

"And you want me to—"

"Not tell them anything," Ash said. "Please."

In all the ways you weren't a father to me. Be one now.

His father exhaled. "Fine."

"Thank you." Ash dumped the murky water down the drain.

"But don't you think your kids will find out anyway?"

Ash clutched the faucet. The water ran too hot, steaming. It wasn't entirely that. It was dangerous. But his father didn't know about Banana Fish.

"You can't hide it forever; everyone knows—"

"I'm not hiding anything," Ash shot back, snapping the water off. "I'm—giving them what they need to know and not more. And if they eventually find out, fine, so be it, but I don't want it to be through some shitty newspaper article!"

"You're going to eventually tell them you were a whore?" His dad shook his head.

Ash wanted to insist no, because he never wanted to tell them. Not ever. But he wasn't going to give his father the satisfaction. "Maybe."

"It's not your fault," Eiji insisted.

"I'm proud of you for surviving," Max said. "You're the bravest person I know, Ash."

"Don't ever think," Eiji assured him, cupping his face. "That I'm—"

"Eiji's not ashamed of me," Ash said. "Why should I be? I didn't have a choice. And clearly you're ashamed enough for the both of us."

Please.

Please tell me you're not.

Please tell me it's not my fault.

Please! I'm not eight years old anymore, but it's not too late. Please.

"Your kids might be ashamed of you," said his father, and that's when Ash felt something break. His father wasn't even trying to be mean, and again, he'd rather he try.

"Ash?"

A voice from the door. He turned to see Eiji, drenched, carrying a soaked Aurora, Griffin shivering behind him. "Someone didn't listen and went climbing on the jetty, and fell in." Eiji's lips were blue, and his teeth chattering so much he could hardly talk.

"I've got blankets." His father turned to rush up the stairs.

"I'm not ashamed of my dad," Griffin piped up. "He's the best. Both of them are the best." He scowled at his grandfather.

"Griffin, it's okay," Ash interjected. It's all okay.

I'm okay.

He was bleeding inside, and he couldn't look at Eiji, because he knew he would break down.