It was a Tuesday, a teacher training day that Kane had insisted he was fine to cover, when it all went to hell. After leaving Koichi to school and grabbing some breakfast, they went home where they spent the morning rifling through boxes he'd gotten down from the attic over a week ago - things they'd bought for Koichi when he was a baby and kept, hoping one day they'd have reason to use them again.
Kyoko was fourteen weeks along by now, which meant, in Makoto's mind, that they could breathe a little. He remembered being terrified every day of her pregnancy with Koichi, so much so he hadn't felt like he'd enjoyed much of the process, and so this time, they'd agreed early on that the only way to survive this pregnancy with their sanity in tact was to force themselves to relax.
They had successfully sorted through four boxes, but still had another three to go when Kyoko yawned. "I'm beat."
She hadn't been sick much this pregnancy, but lately, she'd been wearing out pretty easy. Makoto helped her up, noticing she looked paler than usual. "Headache?" he asked, sympathetically.
"No. I just feel a little dizzy. Can you bring me up some water?"
"You got it." He pressed a kiss to her forehead and watched her disappear into their bedroom. When he returned, a few moments later, glass of water in hand, she was already asleep under the blankets.
He thought about finishing off the last of the boxes, but it wasn't as fun without Kyoko to reminisce with and despite the sleeping pills he took daily and the mindfulness he'd been trying to practice, he was still finding it hard to sleep at night, so he slipped into bed beside her instead.
They weren't asleep for long - maybe thirty minutes or so. Makoto wasn't even sure who woke up first, just that when they met each others eyes sleepily he smiled and thought this is what perfect feels like.
He'd barely finished the thought when Kyoko sat up in bed, too quickly, her body tense under his touch when he reached to pull her back. She threw back the covers as he shuffled to sit up, a question on his lips, but then he saw the dark stains on the white sheet, watched Kyoko touch her hand to herself and her hands start to shake when she drew it back and her fingertips were wet and bright red.
"We need to go to the hospital," he said, getting out of bed. "Are you in pain? Can you walk?"
Kyoko, who was the one who usually operated on autopilot, who barked the orders in a crisis, who took control of a situation quickly before it could take control of her, didn't move. Strands of lavender hair had come loose from her braid while she slept and now hung to frame her face, paler now than it was before; her eyes were wide and rimmed with confusion. She looked so young, in that moment, that Makoto felt the breath catch in his throat.
"Kyoko?" He went around to her side of the bed and eased her out. She let him lead her to the ensuite, where he washed the blood from her hands and changed her clothes. When she was dressed in a pair of his old sweatpants (much too short in the legs and tight in the hips) and a jumper she'd last worn on Christmas, he smoothed back her hair. "Honey, we have to go."
"I did everything right," she said, numbly, blinking down at the sight of herself, in different clothes and no longer covered in blood, like she hadn't even been present for the last three minutes. "Makoto, I did everything right."
The truth was, she had. Far more than the last time she'd been pregnant, Kyoko had taken the instructions of the doctors seriously. She hadn't worked a single case; she'd taken prenatal vitamins religiously. She stopped lifting Koichi and she cut out coffee. Makoto felt a pang in his chest at how much this baby was wanted, how it wasn't like Kyoko to let herself want things for fear of disappointment.
In the car, she pulled her knees to her chest and sank down low in the passenger seat, flinching away from his touch. At first, he tried to be optimistic. "I bet it's no big deal. It's pretty common to bleed when you're pregnant, it doesn't always mean something is wrong." Even as he said these things, he was recalling the blood pooled in her underwear, on the inside of her thighs, stained into the lines of his hands from when he'd tried to clean her up. Too much blood, he knew, and he knew she knew this too, which was why, when she said, defeated, "Makoto, stop," he let go of trying to lie to them both and they passed the rest of the drive in silence.
If luck existed in such a moment at all, it was in the fact the hospital waiting room was empty. They were taken right away to a side room, where a nurse with sad eyes examined Kyoko and then pulled an ultrasound machine in.
Kyoko turned her head so she wouldn't have to see what was on the screen, but Makoto couldn't tear his eyes away. The baby was still there - he could still see it - but the nurse shook her head.
"I'm so sorry," she said. "There's no heartbeat."
"Check again," Makoto pleaded. "Please."
"I've checked twice." The nurse patted Kyoko's arm. "It looks like a placental abruption. It happens sometimes. When it's this early on, there's rarely a reason."
She turned off the doppler and began to talk about options. They could give Kyoko some medication and have her come back in a few days, by which time they could deliver the baby if she hadn't already at home, or they could do a procedure today - a D and C, which somehow, sounded more traumatic. When Kyoko picked the second option, Makoto squeezed her hand.
"Maybe you should take a minute to think about it."
"There's nothing to think about." Kyoko looked at him, but now, her face was blank, which was somehow worse than the pain he'd seen there before. It felt like she was staring right through him. "I need this to be over."
The nurse said she would be back with an anesthesiologist in a little while. When they were left alone, Kyoko straightened up and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Koichi," she said, pragmatic now the shock had worn off. "You need to call someone to get him."
In the panic and the pain of the last twenty minutes, Makoto hadn't even thought of his son. He glanced at the clock on the wall - school let out in five minutes. "Shit. You're right." He dug around in his pocket for his cell phone, loose change from the hospital parking rattling as he did so, before realising he'd left it at the house. "Shit."
"There's probably a payphone somewhere."
Makoto hesitated. "I don't want to leave you."
"It's fine, Makoto." She shut her eyes and rubbed her temples, like even this conversation was draining. "Go."
The closest payphone was on the floor above, which seemed ridiculous to Makoto, but what was more ridiculous was that when Makoto reached it, he realised there was only one number besides Kyoko's that he knew off by heart. Aoi Asahina answered on the second ring.
"Hi?"
"Hina?" It was a relief, somehow, to hear a voice that wasn't empty. Like a reminder that there was a world outside of this hospital that wasn't so horrible. "It's me."
"I knew you'd call and try to damage control this whole thing!" Hina's earlier brightness was replaced with anger. "I told Kane today, I don't think expelling kids like Maida is the solution. Whatever's going on with her, it's a cry for help. How can you seriously okay this?"
Makoto had no idea what she was talking about, nor did he particularly care. They hadn't spoken, beyond dry and necessary emails, since the budget fiasco. She'd told Kyoko she felt betrayed and, worse, like he'd gone behind her back to do it. So, why would she agree to help him, now? What right did he have to ask her to?
But, on the other hand, what choice did he have?
"Can you get Koichi from school?" He sounded strangled. He had to pause, to steady his breath before continuing. "I know how things are between us, Hina, I wouldn't ask -"
"I'll go right now," Hina agreed instantly, her anger and hurt gone at the sound of his desperation. "Makoto, what's wrong?"
As he sank down against the wall, holding tightly to the payphone, Makoto thought to himself, everything.
When he returned to the hospital room, the nurse had him wait outside with her while a doctor gave Kyoko a spinal tap ahead of the procedure.
"She's going to be awake?" he asked, frowning.
"We usually recommend the patient be put out, but it requires an overnight stay," the nurse explained. "Seems she's keen to get out of here."
"Well, can I go in with her?"
The nurse shook her head. "I'm sorry. But in my experience, after is when she'll need you most."
Makoto tried to accept that. When the doctor passed him, he went back inside and sat on the edge of her bed. "Hey." He took her hand. "Hina's gonna keep Koichi for as long as we need. She sends her love."
"Makoto," Kyoko said, looking away. "I asked the nurse to call my grandfather."
"You should have given me his number, I'd have called him for you," Makoto had already offered this before it occurred to him that Kyoko calling Fuhito right now was strange: they weren't that kind of family.
"I can't go home," she said then, as if that was supposed to be an explanation.
Home. He hadn't thought of it until that moment - the bloody sheets still on their bed, the piles of baby clothes on the landing, the tester shades of paint on the walls of the spare room that was supposed to be a nursery.
"Alright. So when your grandfather gets here, he can stay with you and I'll go home and... clean up all that stuff, put the boxes back -"
She curled her fingers and edged her hand out from underneath his. "It's not just the things from the attic. It's you. It's Koichi." Kyoko shook her head. "I can't right now."
"Listen," he almost added, 'baby' but the word died on his tongue - it didn't feel like a term of endearment anymore, something loving and affectionate; it felt like salt in an open wound. "I know how much this hurts. But we're going to get through it, like we get through everything, together."
When he put his hand on her shoulder, she pulled back. When he looked at her, he knew she wasn't in shock anymore; she wasn't hysterical. She spoke with clarity. "You're not listening. I need time."
But I need you.
Just then, the nurse returned and said it was time to take Kyoko to the operating room where the procedure would happen. Makoto felt like he was reeling from a slap to the face, but still he pressed a kiss to the side of her head. "I love you," he told her, and she nodded, but she didn't say it back.
He was in the waiting room when Fuhito arrived. A receptionist pointed the old man in Makoto's direction. In fairness, he looked as confused as to why he was there as Makoto was, which really should have made him feel better but didn't.
"Is she alright?"
Fuhito took the seat to his left and Makoto could not keep himself from inching away. He knew it wasn't Fuhito's fault - he was here at his granddaughter's request, after all - but Makoto had so much anger and hurt inside of him that he needed it to spill over now, before he saw Kyoko again.
"She wants to stay with you."
Fuhito stared at Makoto for a long moment before nodding. "I see. Well, that won't be a problem."
"I'll bet." Maybe he was being bitter, but Makoto had spent the last seven years knowing Fuhito was hoping one day Kyoko would chose to go home to him instead of to her new life with Makoto.
"I urge you to control your emotions," Fuhito suggested, evenly. "This is not the time nor the place to lash out."
Being rightfully scolded by a man who'd never even liked him to begin with was what did it for Makoto. Tears pricked in his eyes and fell, hot on his flushed cheeks. It's not fair! None of this is fair!
"I'm supposed to take care of her."
"I know you think you are the first person to have that responsibility," Fuhito said tightly, "but you are not. She will be quite all right with me."
Makoto wasn't expecting the hand Fuhito placed on his shoulder. When he looked at the other man, something passed between them for the first time - not understanding, but an agreement maybe: an, I've got this.
"I don't want to lose her," Makoto admitted.
Fuhito dropped his hand and looked away again. "Then let her go," he said, a knowing edge to his voice. It wasn't until later, when he was turning over the conversation in his mind, that Makoto wondered if Fuhito really had been speaking from experience - of a time when it was an invitation to attend Hope's Peak and Kyoko's desire to find her father that was luring her away and he'd had to act like it didn't sting.
When, finally, they could see her, the flush was back in her cheeks but her eyes were so blank, it took Makoto a moment to work up the nerve to speak. Fuhito hung back in the doorway, and whether that was out of respect for their privacy or a genuine discomfort with the situation, Makoto was not sure, but he was thankful for it all the same.
For once, even Makoto didn't know what to say. There were no words of comfort for this moment and so he just took her hand and thumbed her scars. "I should have taken your anesthetic. That was a long time to be alone with your grandfather," he said, lowly. There was a small, broken laugh shared between them, and then Kyoko's eyes filled with tears and Makoto felt his heart break.
"I'm sorry," she said, and he didn't know what she was apologising for, but it didn't matter. He didn't want an apology - he just wanted her.
"Stop." He wrapped his arms around her, surprised when she leaned in. "It's okay. It's going to be okay."
Makoto didn't know how long they stayed like that, but it was long enough for the doctor to come around with the discharge form. "You can go home," she told Kyoko, and Makoto wished it didn't hurt that this had her looking to her grandfather and not to him, but it did.
He helped her out of bed and into the same clothes she'd arrived in and then the three of them headed toward the elevator. While they were waiting, a nurse pushed a lady in a wheelchair up behind them while the woman's partner was carrying a newborn in a car seat.
Kyoko's sigh was one of exasperation. "I can't do this," she said, and she took off toward the stairs.
Fuhito moved to go after her, but Makoto stilled him. "Let me," he said. "Please."
Fuhito appeared to think about this for a second before relenting. "Very well."
She hadn't made it very far by the time Makoto caught up with her. "It hurts," she said, as he helped her down the first flight of stairs.
"Did they give you any pain meds?"
"They don't help," she said, and it occurred to him she may not have been talking about the physical pain.
He didn't mind that they didn't say much else - he just wanted another few minutes with her. When they got to the bottom floor, he looked around but couldn't spot Fuhito. "He probably went to get the car," he said, turning back to her.
She was wearing the same vacant look she'd had when she drew back the covers and saw the blood. It wasn't her usual 'I'm controlling how I feel' expression. It was almost as if she wasn't feeling anything, period.
"Kyoko?" He put his hand on her back. "What is it?"
"I look at dead things all the time," she said, quietly, "but this was different."
Makoto felt fresh tears well in his eyes. He couldn't imagine the trauma she was battling in that moment. "Kyoko, I'm so sorry."
"I know." Kyoko looked away. She swallowed hard and nodded. "I know."
Makoto thought about putting up a final fight - begging her to come home with him instead, promising her he'd give her whatever space she needed. There was definitely a chance that she'd give in. But if he did that, even if she agreed, it would be for his sake. However much Makoto was torn apart in that moment, he knew it was just a fraction of her pain.
Once, in the beginning, he'd teased that he could read her mind. Now, he wished she could read his, hear the chant, like a spell that would bring her back: I love you; I love you; I love you.
When Fuhito found them, Makoto took a deep breath, stepped aside and let her walk away.
It was almost bedtime when Hina dropped Koichi off, and Makoto sent him straight upstairs to brush his teeth.
"I should go," Hina said, even though she hadn't actually come inside. She was unusually awkward as she stood on the doorstep but Makoto couldn't be sure if that was because they hadn't made up properly after their fight, or because of the miscarriage.
"Sure. Um, thanks for having him."
"I'd do anything for you guys," she said, but there was a defensiveness in her voice that wouldn't have been there before - before he questioned her loyalty, and gave her reason to question his. "Goodnight, Makoto."
As Makoto closed the over the book they were reading that night, Koichi asked to call his mother. "She's on a plane right now," Makoto lied. "Maybe you can talk to her tomorrow."
Makoto waited for the inevitable kick off, or even the confusion because Kyoko had been home so much lately, but it didn't come. Tonight, he got lucky and instead, Koichi cuddled closer into him, his little head nestled against Makoto's chest, with nothing more than a disappointed whine.
"I love you, daddy," he said, sleepily. "Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?"
Even though it hurt, Makoto understood why his wife wife had chosen to spend the night at her grandfather's - because her grandfather wouldn't needle her to open up; because being back in the house she grew up in would mean she could pretend none of this ever happened; because she hadn't wanted the reminder of the baby they would never get to meet every time she looked at him, at their son. It was the latter that had worried him, too - until the moment he'd opened the front door and Koichi had ran to him with all the force of a hurricane. As he breathed in the familiar scent of his son, felt his breathing even as he drifted off to sleep, it wasn't painful like he thought it would be. If anything, it was a comfort.
With Koichi in his arms, they were at least not completely empty.
Makoto took the next day off work and dedicated it to removing every trace that they had been expecting a baby from the house, in preparation for Kyoko's return. When the bloody sheets were spinning in the washer for a second time - just to be sure - and all of the things they'd been sorting through were boxed up again and returned to the attic, there was a knock on the door. He'd been expecting his wife so to instead have to sign for a package was more than a little disheartening.
Worse was the contents of the package. A shirt for Koichi that he himself had ordered just a week ago, after scouring the internet for creative ways to announce a pregnancy to friends and family. The print on the front read I'm going to be a Big Brother! and Makoto promptly lost it.
When he'd calmed down as much as he figured he was going to, he called Kyoko's cell twice, because all he wanted was to talk to someone who understood, but both times, it rang out. It was so hard not to feel angry then, because it didn't seem fair that he should have to navigate the wreckage at home alone and wasn't the whole point of marriage that you got through things together? He took the dog for a walk to clear his head, and by the time he returned and still, she hadn't returned the calls, worry had set in. He dug out the number for Fuhito's home phone.
"I don't know what to tell you," Fuhito said, sounding annoyed as if Makoto had asked him to explain the details of an intricate case and not the seemingly easy to answer how is Kyoko? "She'll be fine. She's a Kirigiri."
That...didn't fill Makoto with a lot of relief, but he knew he wasn't going to get much more out Fuhito, so he let it go. The next day, he forced himself to go to work. Kane took one look at him and offered to take all of his meetings for the rest of the week.
"You need your friends at a time like this," he said. Makoto had not realised Kane actually considered him a friend until then, but as he started into the list of mundane things Kane had formulated to keep his distracted, he was grateful for it.
Hina cornered him in the staff hallway on the way to the break room later that day with a very different approach. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"I need a refill." He motioned to the mug in his hand. "You?"
"I mean at work." Her hair was wet from swimming and when she shook her head, water flicked in his face. "Makoto! You should be at home with your wife."
"My wife isn't at home." He continued past her to the break room, where thankfully, there was no one else. He brewed a fresh cup of coffee and took an apple from the fruit basket by the window.
"Kyoko's still in hospital? And you're here? That's even worse!"
"She's staying with her grandfather." At this, Hina pulled a face. "Yeah," Makoto agreed, "that was my reaction too."
"Okay, but I mean, she definitely wants you to go over there and...convince her to come home!" Hina said quickly. "It'll be romantic."
Makoto took a bite of his apple. "Have you ever tried to convince Kyoko to do anything? Cause I have. And it's far from a romantic experience, believe me."
"You know what I mean." Hina rolled her eyes. "You just show up with a speech prepared and you tell her how much you love her - "
"- Hina," he interrupted, gently, "She knows that. I've already thought of all this - but I know Kyoko. She doesn't want me to woo her. Right now, she just wants some room to breathe."
(Of course, it was one thing to know that the right thing to do was to give her her space and another thing to be comfortable with the distance.)
She called, for the first time, just after bathtime that night when Koichi was on the cusp of an overtired tantrum because his pajama pants didn't match his top. He brightened up instantly when Makoto held the caller ID for him to see.
"Mommy!" he shrieked, diving for the phone. Makoto let him take the call. He came in and out of the room while they talked, putting things in the bathroom laundry basket, not wanting Kyoko to think he was waiting for her to ask to speak with him - he told himself this was because he didn't want to pressure her, but maybe, deep down, he didn't want her to know how desperate he was. Makoto didn't think he was a particularly proud guy, but something about the way Kyoko pushed him away sometimes had the to ability to flare up a childish flicker of spite.
When, finally, Koichi's voice began to get sluggish, Makoto picked him up and put him in bed. "Say goodnight to Mommy," he instructed, and Koichi mumbled into the receiver before snuggling under the covers.
"Hi," he said, stepping out of their son's bedroom.
"Hi." He could tell she was tired too - both she and Koichi's voices went a little scratchy when they'd gone too long without sleep.
"How are you feeling?"
"Sore," she admitted. "Pain meds are wearing off."
"Fuhito's being sympathetic, I'm sure?"
"Mm. Today he told me that when he was my age he got shot in the shoulder during an investigation and didn't go to the hospital until he solved the case," Kyoko paused, for effect, "three days later."
Makoto couldn't help but snort. "No way is that true."
"Regardless, I gather he was trying to be encouraging."
"I must be a pretty lousy nurse if Fuhito's tough love is preferable," he joked, self-deprecation slipping out before he could stop it - and immediately, he realised what he'd said, and cursed inwardly.
He could tell by her sigh that she didn't find it funny. "Makoto," she said, "don't make this any harder than it already is."
Makoto really didn't think he was the one who had made things so difficult, but he stopped himself from pointing this out. When she made an excuse about a (conveniently timed) headache, he let her hang up the phone without protest.
During his lunch break the next day, he stopped by a florists in town, and then he drove forty minutes out of his way to Fuhito's. He hadn't slept in three days and he was lonely and sad and he was over acting like it was normal for them to be apart when they'd just lost a child. Maybe Hina was right, he thought during the drive. Maybe Kyoko really did want some kind of gesture.
Kyoko was not the one who opened the door. "Makoto?" Fuhito frowned when he took in the sight of him, flowers in his hands.
"Look, I'm not here to bug her. I just want to give her these." He held up the arrangement of orchids - blue dendrobium, to be exact. They were the first flowers he'd ever bought for her, before he could even afford to be buying flowers, but they were so beautiful with their electric blue centre, fading to a brilliant byzantium on the edges of the petals that he hadn't been able to resist. Years later, Kyoko - who was far from a traditional romantic - had a wedding bouquet composed of them and white lilies as tribute.
Fuhito kept the door open just a crack, unwelcoming as ever. "Kyoko isn't here."
"Really?" Makoto stepped down from the doorstep, surprised but also so, so relieved. "She went home? This morning?"
"No. She's working."
The relief quickly died away - whatever hope he had that they were going to figure this out vanished. "Uh, are you kidding?" His hold on the flowers tightened. Of course Fuhito had pushed her to get back to work - hadn't she suggested as much on the phone the night before? Fuhito had practically said it himself - She'll be fine. She's a Kirigiri. To him, wasn't that all about putting whatever you felt in a box and being a focused, neutral detective in spite of it? "You seriously think that's where she needs to be right now?"
"She's an adult," Fuhito pointed out, his expression hardening. "She is quite capable of dictating that for herself. Now, will that be all?"
"How could you?" Makoto exploded, angry on Kyoko's behalf. He'd given Fuhito the benefit of the doubt a lot over the years, despite what he understood of the way he raised Kyoko, but this wasn't something he could just brush off. What kind of piece of work was her grandfather that he forced her back to work when she reached out to him for solace? "Why would you push her like that? She's obviously not ready."
"You're hearing what you want to hear," Fuhito warned. "I did not push Kyoko to do anything. As I said, she is an adult." Fuhito looked very serious when Makoto looked up at him - more serious, he thought than he'd ever seen him look, or at least more sincere. "This was her decision. I was as surprised as you are."
"I don't believe you!"
"Yes, it would appear that is because you do not want to." Fuhito took the flowers from Makoto. "I will put these in water," he said, evenly, "I will tell Kyoko you called. The rest is between you and her."
Makoto handed him the flowers, begrudgingly. It was only on the drive back home that his thoughts turned to practical things: Kyoko hadn't come home to retrieve her stuff, at least to his knowledge. Did that mean she'd kept clothes at Fuhito's this whole time? They'd been together for seven years and married for six. They bought a house together and put meticulous planning and effort into having a family. And yet, in the background the entire time, she'd had a contingency plan?
That evening, when Kyoko called to speak to Koichi, he did not beckon his son in from the yard to talk to her.
"Tell me he pulled some Kirigiri honour bullshit on you," he said, pacing the kitchen. "Tell me this is Fuhito's doing. Tell me he pressured you go back to work."
Of course, Makoto already knew the answer. No one, not even Fuhito, made Kyoko do anything she didn't want to do.
"Makoto, I've been in bed for two days, I needed to...do something." There was a pause. "You get that, right? I'm sure you've gone back to work."
That wasn't the point. "I don't get it actually," he said, coolly. "Tell me Kyoko. Make me understand how is it that you're able to run around solving murders but picking up your kid from school or having like, a conversation with your husband is too much to deal with."
There was a stunned silence on the other end of the phone. "You know why those things are different." Right, Makoto thought numbly, because for one you need your brain and for the others you need a heart. "What are you trying to say anyway? Are you accusing me of leaving my child?"
Makoto knew where that was coming from, knew why it was a sore spot - because of Jin. It was a reminder that he was supposed to cut her slack here - because she'd been raised to find validation solely in detective work, or because she hadn't had a lot of love growing up, or because she was in a fire as a kid that after almost a decade of knowing her he still knew jack shit about, or because she was a fucking libra or whatever. There was always a reason, always an excuse that he made for her in his mind that would explain why he was being pushed away or how she could be so detached. Except walking out on him in the midst of this particular tragedy didn't feel like Kyoko's attempt at self preservation; it just felt cold.
"I'm saying your priorities are whack," he continued, firm in his resolve, "and I'm not buying for a second that you don't know better."
"Is this how it is now?" She was pissed, which was fine, because he was too. "You're asking me to choose?"
"We had a miscarriage two days ago. For most people it wouldn't be a choice."
"I had a miscarriage," Kyoko corrected sharply, and Makoto stopped still in the middle of the kitchen, certain, for a second, that he had heard her wrong.
He waited for her to redact that - to fumble out an apology. I didn't mean it, she would say, I know this hurts you too.
It didn't come.
"Well," he said, when he could speak again. "At least now you get to go back to work."
"Fuck you," she spat, stung. "Fuck you, Makoto."
"Fuck you!" Makoto could not remember the last time he had properly yelled at Kyoko - maybe, he never had, and this was the first time. "What the hell is this anyway, Kyoko? Are we separated? Cause this doesn't feel like a grief thing."
"If your mind went to divorce this quickly there's more wrong with our relationship than me taking a case."
He hated that - hated the insinuation he was the one driving the distance between them when all he'd wanted for the last seventy-two hours was to pull her close. "My mind is going everywhere because I have no idea what the hell you're thinking." Defeated now, Makoto shook his head. "Kyoko, I'm here trying to give you what you want."
"Do you seriously think there is anything about this situation that I want?" Kyoko fired back. The question hung between them. Makoto's chest ached.
"We need to talk about this." He wasn't angry anymore - well he was, but he didn't want to be. Desperate, he just wanted all of it to stop. "Please."
"I don't want to talk to you right now," she said and it hurt, but not as much as the hitch in her voice did: he'd made her cry. "I need to go."
"Kyoko." He rubbed his forehead. "I'm sorry."
After a long beat, she sighed. Her voice was steady when she spoke again. "I know you are. Still, I don't think it's smart to do this right now." Do what? Makoto wondered. Fight? Talk to each other? "I'll call Koichi before bed."
She was true to her word that night and the next night and the night after that. Each time, Makoto handed the phone immediately to his son, and Kyoko hung up the moment she and Koichi had said goodbye, not waiting to speak to him. Makoto no longer knew if they taking the space thing very seriously or just ignoring each other.
In the early hours of the fifth night he was up on the couch, where he was spending a lot of sleepless nights these days, when after the latest victim count of a recent terrorist attack a photo of a Chinese boy a little older than Koichi came up on the screen. He'd disappeared from his school playground months ago and by the time his body was recovered from a local river, they hadn't had much to go on. The reason it was on the local news in Tokyo, was because the case was just today solved by a brilliant Japanese detective. It didn't mention Kyoko by name, but Makoto had already picked up his cell and called her before the segment had even finished.
She answered on the first ring. "Makoto?" she said, urgent. "What's wrong? Is Koichi alright?"
He realised then just how late it was - that the news channel he was watching was the 24 hour coverage.
"He's asleep. I - I just saw the news. Your case?" He pulled a blanket over himself, shivering. "Those poor parents."
"I know."
"You did a good thing, you know." What he wanted to say, but didn't, was that he had been wrong; that he was selfish in wanting her home when he should have known what she was doing was more important; that despite everything, she was the good guy. "They have closure now."
"Do you think there's such a thing?" Kyoko asked, sounding genuinely curious as to his opinion. "When you lose a child?"
Makoto had a feeling they weren't talking about the parents of the murdered boy anymore. "I hope so. I think so. Eventually." In the background, he heard a flight number being called over the intercom. "Do you need to go?"
He wanted more than anything for her to say no. His throat ached with the things he couldn't bring himself to put on her: I get it if you don't want to be my wife right now, but I still need you to be my best friend.
"Yeah. Listen, can I… well, I wanted to ask you if I could come by and pick up Koichi for a little while tomorrow."
"You don't have to ask," he said, quickly, guilt at the way he'd spoken to her last time setting in. Kyoko was a great mother and he knew how much she loved Koichi, but he'd been hurt and he wanted to hurt her back and taking a jab at her absence in relation to their son had been a shitty way to do that.
"Makoto," she said, with a bitter laugh. "Yes I do. You're the one who's been there every day. I don't get to pick up where I left off."
He didn't want her to feel bad for leaving Koichi - especially now he knew the case she'd been working on was for the justice of someone else's son, but all the same, it was nice to have it acknowledged that he'd been their son's constant. It was nice to feel like Kyoko was mindful of that, at least, and so some of the resentment that had been festering inside him began to fade.
"He'll love that. And you know, so will you." Makoto pulled a thread lose on the blanket in his lap. Tears sprang in his eyes. "Because seriously? I don't think there's a problem in the world that little laugh of his can't fix."
"Thanks for the tip." It was the most civil conversation they had had since the hospital and Makoto was suddenly so glad he'd called, to hell with his pride. He couldn't take another day of hostility. "Is noon okay?"
"Sure. Um, safe flight."
The urge to add, I love you, was an instinctive one, but still, he managed to hold it back.
For now, baby steps were enough.
They carried on like that for most of the next week - short pleasantries on the phone as it was passed to their son and back again, Kyoko stopping by every other day to take Koichi to lunch or to the park. Makoto had gotten used to her not being around, but for the few hours Koichi was gone too, the house seemed too quiet, too still; he didn't know what to do with his time. On one occasion, he tried to reach out to Byakuya, hoping they could catch up for a drink or something, but he'd gotten a one lined response from his new secretary: Mr Togami is a very busy man and he's not available right now.
When Kyoko dropped Koichi home on Thursday - they'd been to the movies, and Koichi had pouted when he realised Makoto wasn't coming with them - she didn't leave right away. "My grandfather's fine to have Koichi tomorrow night," she said. "What time do we need to be there? Six?"
She was referring to the anniversary party being held at Hope's Peak, honouring the school's original opening 50 years ago. Makoto been been unsure about making a thing of it, given the very ethos of the school had changed so drastically since then, but then the official school board and the investors and even Byakuya - who, at the time, had been his deputy - advised it was less about embracing the academy's past and more about challenging the media's long-circulating accusation that they were trying to bury it.
It had been planned since the beginning of the year, he knew there was no way he was going to get out of it but he had pretty much taken Kyoko's absence as a given, had already started to think about what he would tell people when they asked where she was. Now, he felt a little stupid for that. Even if she hadn't had such a hand in helping him in the beginning, before all of that, it had been her father's school - she had as much claim to its legacy as he did, if not more.
The next evening, he crossed Fuhito's threshold and watched as Koichi's smile for his great-grandfather turn to a puzzled frown at the sound of his mother's voice. "Mommy's here?" he asked, turning to Makoto for an answer. Koichi was, of course, still under the impression she was working.
While his son emptied the contents of his backpack on Fuhito's living room carpet - sending legos and crayons flying everywhere - Makoto stood in the doorway. Kyoko came out of another room, adjusting her earrings. Fuhito gave them both a look. "You need to sit him down and explain this...situation to him. He's old enough to understand. If you're not careful, he'll begin to draw his own conclusions."
Makoto was still waiting for someone to sit him down and explain the situation; he wasn't sure he was old enough to understand. He met Kyoko's eye and she looked just as apprehensive at the thought of such a conversation as he was. Something about the idea of telling Koichi they were living apart made it so much more real, so much more final.
"Useless," Fuhito grumbled. "Both of you."
On the drive back to town, Makoto loosened his tie and looked across the car at her. "Do you think your grandfather is right? Should we say something to Koichi?"
"We're not taking parenting advice from Fuhito." Kyoko rolled her eyes. "He's a hypocrite. His idea of transparency was waiting to tell me my mother was dead until we were on our way to the funeral."
He understood why to Kyoko, it seemed cruel, but Makoto didn't think that had been Fuhito's intention. Maybe he'd been waiting for Jin to do it, or maybe he put it off because he was trying to stretch out the last few moments of his granddaughter's innocence before her life was torn apart. Makoto couldn't imagine there was a worse thing you could be tasked with telling a child and if that wasn't a wake up call to appreciate the fact that things in his own family could be a thousand times worse than they were, he didn't know what was.
When they arrived, the school was decorated with blue balloons and a banners. Hina was smoothing out the table cloth by the makeshift bar in the gymnasium when they found her.
"You did good," Kyoko said. "It looks great."
Hina smiled at Kyoko's compliment, but she still seemed flustered. "Thanks. Okay, so who's giving a speech?"
"Count me out." Kyoko accepted the champagne flute offered by a caterer. She met Makoto's eyes and as she took a sip. "Do you need me to read over yours?"
"That would be great, actually." He looked over his shoulder. "Is Byakuya here yet?"
"He's not coming," Hina said, hotly. "Why would he? He's never anywhere when we need him to be."
"Uh, okay." He exchanged a look with Kyoko. "Hiro?"
Hina winced. "He thinks there's some kind of 'evil energy' in here so he refuses to leave the conference room."
"And he's not exactly an endorsement for your credibility," Kyoko pointed out.
"Alright." Makoto went back to looking at the small crowd of people who had arrived early. His eyes fell on Kyosuke Munakata - not quite as tall as Makoto remembered, with a neater haircut. He was scrolling through his cell phone, much to the apparent chagrin of Kane, who was trying to strike up a conversation. Makoto hesitated.
Kyoko followed his line of sight before scoffing and turning away again. "Looks like Hiro was right about that dark energy after all."
"Kyoko."
"Why is he even here anyway?"
"All of the alumni were invited," Hina explained. She shrugged. "I guess it's good press for him."
Makoto didn't know much of what the Future Foundation was up to these days. Komaru - who still went on missions for them, occasionally - told him it operated more like back up SWOT team, where trained officers like herself were sent into evaluate and diffuse suspected terrorist threats. He didn't love that his little sister had opted for such a risky hobby, but at the same time, he admired her readiness to go into battle for the world at any moment.
"Someone else has to make a speech. It's him or Toko." Makoto was a little alarmed by the fact both Kyoko and Hina seemed to be considering these options. He wasn't Munakata biggest fan by any means, but damn, girls could hold a grudge. "Hina, can you brief him? Tell him to keep it short and you know...optimistic. No talking about death or despair or anything like that."
After some brief mingling and another round of champagne, he and Kyoko went to his office so he could run through his speech. It wasn't completely necessary - he made speeches all the time now, but on nights like this, it was easy to feel out of his depth. She made a few minor amendments, chided him for not smiling enough, and then told him he was good to go.
"Thanks," he said, slipping the paper he'd been reading from into the inside pocket of his suit. "I owe you."
Kyoko, who had given her guidance from where she sat, perched on the edge of his desk, picked up one of the framed photos he kept there. His stomach twisted as he came to stand beside her and realised which one she'd picked up.
One was Koichi's most recent school picture; another was of Kyoko and Koichi on a day last summer when they'd gone to the beach. The third one, the one Kyoko was now turning over in her gloved hands, was the twelve week ultrasound of the baby they'd lost.
"I don't know what to do with it," Makoto admitted, shuffling his feet. "It sucks to see it all the time, but it doesn't feel right to just throw it away either."
Kyoko put it back where she found it. Wordlessly, she drew him closer to her, understanding in her eyes. She pressed her lips to his.
It was only a slight brush at first, and then her hands were moving up his chest to his shoulders and she pulled him in deeper, her mouth now working against his jaw, his neck. Makoto's hands went to her waist, to steady them both. He wasn't quite sure how this happened - how they went from not talking to being mad at each other to communicating like business partners to this, this moment, with her tugging at his suit jacket impatiently. He also wasn't sure why it didn't feel like a good thing. Wasn't this what he'd wanted? Kyoko to make the first move? To know she still wanted him?
Instead of being happy, or even caught up in the moment, all Makoto could think of was that the last time they'd touched each other like this, he'd kissed a trail down her chest to her stomach, where their baby had been; that they'd been rougher than usual that night and since then, he'd worried on and off if maybe that had somehow caused the miscarriage.
He wondered if Kyoko was thinking of this too. He wondered if that's why she was so keen, suddenly - if she was trying to replace the memory.
"Kyoko." He eased back. "What are we doing?"
"Isn't it obvious?" She went in for another kiss, more forceful this time. She took his hand from her waist and put it on the inside of her thigh, as if to guide him.
Makoto pulled his hand away. He broke the kiss. He blinked at her, at the way she was looking at him but also looking right through him. "What is this?"
"I need…" Her brow creased, like she was wrestling with the answer herself. "I need to feel close to my husband," she said, her hand working the buttons of his shirt. She tugged him toward her again and when he went still, she frowned, like she didn't understand why that wasn't what he wanted to hear.
It took him a moment to even understand it himself - because he did want to feel connected to her again, more than anything. It was just that sex felt like the lazy way to get there.
Makoto eased her hands off of him and gently, pushed her away. "Then come home."
He let her storm off without trying to follow. She spent the rest of the night avoiding him, except for when they happened to be brought into the same conversation where she gave a performance so convincing it distracted him. There it was, that Kirigiri poker face.
They were complimented at least three separate times on what a beautiful couple they were, and even as they laughed it off in unison, Makoto felt like he was wearing a disguise. Ultimate frauds.
After the speeches, he thanked Munakata in a quiet corridor away from the crowd. "I appreciate you stepping in, and what you said about how important it is we set the example for the next generation."
"It's a burden we both share," Munakata said, gravely.
"Uh, right. Well, thanks again." Makoto held his hand out for Munakata to shake. The other man paused.
"You might take offense to this, Naegi, but I can't help but think that after everything that happened before, you're wasted here. You are welcome to come and spend some time at our new headquarters sometime. I have no doubt you would be of great use there."
"I'll remember that," Makoto said, politely. Munakata shook his hand, finally, and then Makoto was free to excuse himself.
He bumped into Kane while he was looking for Kyoko and Hina. "Your wife certainly is something," he said, with a smile.
"Heh. Yeah."
"Very beautiful," Kane continued. "When do you think you'll have another child?"
Makoto couldn't put his finger on why it struck him as weird, but it did. Maybe it just threw him because it was kind of an inconsiderate thing to ask of a couple who you knew had just lost a baby, particularly when you were aware they'd had to go to great lengths to get pregnant. It was rude and it was forward, in a way Kane usually wasn't - but then, Makoto thought, there was a lot of free alcohol flowing.
He brushed off Kane's question and found the girls by the bar, prepared to tell them about Munakata's offer, but something stopped him: probably, the fact that he already knew what they would say. He put it to the back of his mind and tried to pass the rest of the night as smoothly as he could.
He wasn't alone again with Kyoko until the car ride home. Uncomfortable with the awkwardness, Makoto tried to make conversation. "The storm is supposed to get worse," he said, while rain drops hammered against the windscreen. "I heard there's going to be thunderstorms most of the night."
Kyoko stared out the window into the darkness. She didn't speak.
"What did you think of my deputy? Kane?" This question was a serious one - because he'd gotten a weird vibe, and he wanted to know if it was founded and even now, with everything going on between them, there was no one whose judgement he trusted more than hers.
"Nothing," she said, blankly.
"Kyoko, it's a long drive to Fuhito's in silence."
"I don't think anything about your deputy," Kyoko corrected pointedly, turning to him, "because he spent the night avoiding me."
Makoto frowned. "Why would he do that?"
"You tell me. I'm guessing it has something to do with whatever you told him about our marriage and the fact that we just lost a baby." Kyoko straightened up in her seat. "Neither of those things make for appealing conversation."
Makoto didn't think there was any point in making the distinction that he hadn't actually told Kane anything about their marriage."Well, what were your first impressions? Based on your introduction."
"There wasn't an introduction," Kyoko said, sounding annoyed. "I saw him a few times, but he never came over. I can take a hint and I'd rather someone say nothing than say something stupid. Why do you care about this, anyway?"
"No reason." A moment passed. Makoto glanced at her. "He said you're beautiful."
She sighed. "And what, you're jealous?"
"No." He didn't think that was why it had rubbed him wrong - for one, Kane was gay, and besides, he and Kyoko had enough actually going on for him to stress about, there wasn't enough hours in the day to let insecurities about her and other men slip in. "It's just...he's right. And I should have been the one to say it." Even when he looked back the road, he could feel Kyoko staring at him. "I thought it, for the record. A lot. But I'm trying this new thing where I don't just say the first thing I think all the time."
"Oh?"
"Yeah." He had a thought. "I'm trying get to get the girl I've had a crush on since forever to talk to me, you see, so I'm playing it cool."
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see this amused her. "You're too smart to think that's a good strategy."
"I'd try anything," Makoto admitted.
"You should be proud of yourself, you know," Kyoko said, turning back to look out the window and changing the subject. "There were a lot of people there tonight who believe in good things because of you, because you inspire them."
"Inspired." Makoto shrugged. "All of that was a long time ago."
"You're still the same person." When he didn't respond to that, Kyoko sighed. "Whatever. If it matters, I'm proud of you."
By the time they got to Fuhito's, it was late late - but still, they entered the house to the sound of Koichi's chattering. When he saw them, he quickly hopped off his great grandfather's knee to run to his mother, whatever he and Fuhito were discussing forgotten instantly. "Welcome to my life," Makoto joked, when he noticed the older man looking a little affronted.
"Mommy, mommy, mommy." Koichi erupted in giggles as Kyoko spun him around. "Mommy I'm dizzy."
"You'll make him sick," Fuhito scolded.
They stopped spinning. Kyoko adjusted Koichi in her arms. He rested his head against hers, his eyelids heavy.
"Are you coming home with me, Mommy?" he asked, softly.
Makoto turned away, started to discuss the storm with Fuhito, not wanting to intrude on the moment between Kyoko and Koichi and half afraid of what her response would be. He only turned back when he heard Koichi start to cry.
There were sleepy tears, stuttery like a car engine failing to start up, but it only took a few seconds for them to break into a hysterical kind of cry, the one usually reserved for skinned kneecaps and broken toys, the one that meant I don't know enough words to tell you why it hurts. Even as he became breathless from sobbing, Koichi kept his hold around Kyoko's neck. She looked at Makoto, as if to say help me, but physically pulling a small, sad child away from his mother wasn't something that he was going to do for the sake of maintaining a schedule.
"He should stay here with you tonight," Makoto said, over the top of Koichi's cries.
He could tell Kyoko had not expected this. She looked at him as if he had given her a gift. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah." Makoto stepped forward to look at his son. "It's okay, bud. You can stay with Mom. Won't that be fun? A sleepover at Grandpa Kiri's?"
"There's a storm coming," Kyoko pointed out. "You shouldn't be driving. You should stay too."
By now, Koichi had calmed down to where only whimpers were bubbling over. "Daddy?" he whined, "I want Daddy too."
Makoto wondered if Kyoko felt like as much of a failure as he did in that moment, as their child looked between them, teary-eyed, and because of the mess they'd made of things, felt like he had to choose.
"You do realise this is my house and not a hotel?" Fuhito asked.
"He's right," Makoto said. He cupped Koichi's cheek. "It's an imposition."
"Hardly." Kyoko shook her head. "We have three guest rooms. Really. You should stay." Makoto knew it wasn't just Kyoko trying to make his life more convenient, to save him this wasted trip or keep him from having to drive through a storm. It was a peace offering and one Makoto accepted. He spared a sympathetic look at Fuhito as Kyoko led him out of the room.
The walls of her teenage bedroom were dark purple, the first splash of colour he'd seen in the otherwise grey house. There were fairy lights strung above the bed and antique dolls on a shelf above the desk. He smirked. "Nice."
She glared, but there was no malice behind it. "Shut up." As he laid Koichi down on the twin bed, she took off her earrings and tied her hair up. "I'm just going to go change. I'll be right back."
"Mommy," Koichi mumbled, sleepily clenching and unclenching his fists, as if to grasp hold of her.
"Hey, shh. She'll be right back."
Koichi continued to whine, so Makoto stoked his forehead to soothe him, a trick from when he was a restless baby. He'd just nodded off when Kyoko returned in a silk nightgown that hit her just above the knee. Makoto only meant to glance at her in acknowledgement, not wanting to make things weird, but then he spotted a dark stain by her right breast and suddenly, he couldn't look away.
Her milk had come in.
She caught him staring. "Some things the hospital doesn't tell you," she said, rueful. She grabbed a cardigan that had been slung over her desk chair and wrapped it around herself.
"I didn't even think," Makoto said, dazed, like someone had whacked him on the side of the head, or, more accurately, like someone had whacked him back a whole week in the grieving process. Any dealing he'd done with the loss disappeared at the jarringness of such a physical reminder. We were supposed to have a baby, but we don't anymore.
He couldn't imagine then, how it must have felt for her. Makoto had been able to wash the bedsheets and send the package with the 'big brother' shirt back; what was Kyoko supposed to do, when the reminder that taunted her was her own body?
"Yeah," she said, sitting down on the bed and crossing her legs under her. "Neither did I."
"Isn't there anything you can do to stop it?"
"Sure, but it's already starting to dry up." Kyoko shrugged. "As annoying as it is, it's also the only proof I have there was ever a baby to begin with."
The emotional ache was at least something Makoto could relate to. He himself had not yet reconciled that something that had been so real to them could just stop existing one day and leave them with nothing but dreams; just as Kyoko's body was struggling to figure it out, he didn't know what to do with all the leftover love he'd had for the baby.
"I've been reading two bedtime stories," he admitted, running a hand through their sleeping son's hair. His eyes filled with tears the second they met with Kyoko's. "Just in case it's somewhere...listening - I dunno, it's stupid."
"Does it help?"
He thought about lying, but he knew she'd be able to tell. "Not yet." Makoto wiped his eyes. "Some day though, maybe it will."
He slept in her room that night, their son asleep between them so soundly it almost seemed as if the storm outside was only in their imagination. When he woke up to sun burning through a crack in the curtains, there was a shooting pain in his lower back from sleeping on the edge of the too-small-for-three-people bed.
Kyoko was awake too and looked like she had been for some time. She turned to face him, almost falling off the bed as she did so. Makoto smirked and after a second, she returned it.
"Do you remember our first apartment after we left the Future Foundation?" she asked. "We were barely scraping money together to pay rent. We slept in a twin bed for months."
"Yeah." Makoto chuckled at the memory. "I used to sleep wrapped around you the whole night. You hated it."
"It wasn't the worst," Kyoko replied, impartial. "I played it up a little." She hitched herself up on her elbow to eye him more carefully. "Does it seem like a lifetime ago to you?"
Makoto didn't know if she meant that specific period of time, or the infatuation that came when you first fell in love, the feeling that nothing else mattered so long as you were together. "I guess," he said. "Sometimes, I think everything was easier then or even before, with all of the despair stuff. Is that dumb?"
"It wasn't easier," Kyoko said, dropping her head to the pillow with a sigh. "But we were better at it than we are at this." This meaning marriage, grief, the terrible things that happened sometimes in life that not even the most thorough investigation or the best luck could provide a reason for.
But still, Makoto knew there was still a place for hope - maybe now more than ever. "We're going to be okay, Kyoko. I know it."
After a moment, she spoke again, changing the subject. "Do you two have plans for today?"
"We were gonna stop by Komaru's later, but I can go by myself," Makoto offered. "You can have him."
"Actually, I was thinking we could do something. The three of us."
The three of us. Magic words to Makoto's ears. And so, after breakfast, they set off for a local forest. The ground was wet from all the rain, and Makoto wished he'd gone home to change first so his dress shoes wouldn't get so banged up, but he hadn't wanted to risk a detour in case Kyoko changed her mind.
During the storm, a tree had been struck by lightning. It was blown apart, charred branches hung low from the angry orange centre, bark half-peeled. Koichi touched the trunk gingerly, then pulled his hand away, claiming it was hot to touch.
Kyoko took off a glove to press her palm just above the spot were Koichi had. She shook her head - he's lying - and Makoto shrugged. Koichi's attention quickly turned to a passing squirrel, and they were following him deeper into the woods, his testing of the truth forgotten.
When he'd grown tired of the trip's educational aspect - because the difference in animal tracks and the various ways to tell north without a compass could only appeal to a four-year-old mind for so long, no matter how interesting Kyoko tried to make them - Koichi begged them to play hide and seek.
"No way," Makoto said, instantly. "What if we lose you?"
"You can use the compass." He gestured to the one Kyoko had drawn in the dirt.
They exchanged a look, not knowing if he was being serious or a smartass.
"If you run off," Kyoko warned, very seriously, "you will be in so much trouble when we get you back."
"What if I hide so well you can't ever find me?" Koichi tested.
Kyoko narrowed her eyes. "You think I won't find you?"
Koichi giggled under the heat of his mother's glare. Brave boy, Makoto thought. "I'm joking, Mommy. I'll stay close. Promise."
Kyoko held out her pinky to link with his. When he pulled it back, she held tighter. "You can't go past where we saw the racoon prints. Do you remember?"
It was only a few yards from where they were - on the other side of a small clearing. There weren't many trees in this part to hide behind and no beds of water. Makoto still wasn't comfortable with the idea, but Kyoko's rules (and her threat) had rendered it pretty lacking in terms of danger.
"If me or Daddy call you by your full name, you stop hiding and you yell out to us. Do you understand?"
"Okay." Koichi was bouncing on the balls of his feet, eager to get going.
Kyoko sighed. "You two go hide. Be quick. I'm only counting to ten."
"You can't search! That's cheating."
"Alright," Makoto said, waving them off. "I got this."
He counted back from twenty loudly, although he sped through the last five numbers, sure they were both hidden by now. He turned around and started back to the clearing, peering behind trees as he did so.
"Found you," Kyoko declared, behind him suddenly. He jumped, startled.
"I'm supposed to find you."
"I thought you could use a clue." Kyoko pointed to the clearing entrance. "I saw Koichi eyeing a log earlier. I assume he was sizing it up to see if he could fit inside."
So that's why she'd been so lenient about letting him hide - she already knew where to find him. Kyoko was always so good at reading their son. It's my job, she said once, and Makoto hadn't known if she meant being a detective, or being a mother.
"You guys are so good at this!" Makoto called out, feigning oblivion, with a wink at Kyoko.
"I'll go hide again." Kyoko turned, but Makoto's hand on her arm, moving of its own violation, stopped her.
"Wait." He gave a shrug and dropped his hand. "I-I just wanted to say that I'm glad we did this today. Thanks for suggesting it."
What he wanted to say, really, was that he was felt like an idiot for the moments over the last week and a half when he'd let himself think they'd drifted apart, or that the seven year itch was a real thing or that maybe this was just what happened when you got married young. After just a few hours with her, he was convinced this was how you knew you'd found your soulmate: when, after the worst fight of your lives, you were able to dust each other off and fall in love all over again.
Maybe it was for that same reason that Kyoko knew what he was really saying.
"You said we'll be okay," was her explanation for the unexpected gesture. "You've never been wrong about that before. I just forget, sometimes, to believe you." When she looked at him, her eyes were soft and sincere. He felt a tug in his chest as if she were placing her trust in him for the first time all over again. "I remember now," she said, simply.
"Does this mean you're coming home?" he asked, too quickly. As he felt a blush rising in his cheeks, Kyoko smiled.
"I thought you were playing it cool?"
"I'm, ah, too smart for that."
Kyoko stepped forward, but before she could say or do anything, they heard a shriek. Koichi.
They ran in the direction of the noise - the clearing, then the log where Kyoko predicted he would be, but he wasn't inside. He was standing behind it instead, shaking. Naturally, Kyoko reached him first. As Makoto caught up, she was already crouched in front of their son, holding him at arms length as she cast her eyes over him, examining.
"What is it? Are you hurt?"
Koichi shook his head. He pointed to something behind him. Makoto took hold of Koichi's shoulder as Kyoko passed him over. Makoto peered over her head, unsure what he was expecting, but definitely surprised to see a dead fox.
After some poking, Kyoko turned to Koichi. "It's alright," she said, sounding a little disappointed at his lack of interest in the animal corpse. "Everything dies, Koichi. There are no obvious wounds, so it probably didn't suffer."
Makoto winced. Kyoko was a great mother, but she definitely lacked the tact to handle situations like this. "Remember Bubbles?" he said, squeezing Koichi's shoulder to get his attention. Bubbles was a fish won at the fair that died after two weeks, as predicted by Kyoko, leaving Koichi inconsolable. The only thing that had given him any kind of closure had been the funeral they held in the backyard. Makoto had even helped him recite a prayer they found online over the makeshift grave and Kyoko, who insisted Makoto was making much too big of a deal about the whole thing, had refrained from injecting her usual cynicism when she realised it had helped their son.
Now, Makoto was worried maybe Kyoko had been right. Had he accidentally given his son a complex about death?
"It's not like Bubbles!" Koichi insisted fiercely. "The bad guy did this!"
"Don't you think it's more likely it was the storm?" Kyoko tried, but Koichi wasn't having it.
"No!" He stomped his feet. "I saw her!"
Makoto and Kyoko blinked at each other. "What are you talking about?" he asked.
"The bad guy! The one I saw before."
"At the school?" Kyoko asked, catching up quicker than Makoto was. Wait - was Koichi talking about Maida? "If that's true, where did she go?"
Koichi did a 180 degree turn and then helplessly shook his head. "I don't know. She told me to close my eyes and when I opened them, she was gone."
Kyoko looked up to Makoto. "Take him to the car. I'll be there in a minute."
Makoto carried Koichi back through the woods, unable to shake the feeling he was being watched, but near-certain it was his mind playing tricks. He strapped Koichi into his car seat and turned on the radio for him to listen to. When he saw Kyoko coming, a little while later, he got out to talk to her so Koichi wouldn't overhear them.
"Did you find anything?"
"There were no footprints, but the ground was drier there because of the trees." Kyoko leaned against the car, her arms folded. "What are you thinking?"
Makoto looked around, at the empty parking lot by the forest's entrance. "There's no one here but us."
"Have you had any more trouble with that girl? The one he's talking about?"
"She's pretty much stopped coming to school. I think she has some personal stuff going on." The last time he'd seen her, she was yelling at Itoh Sotan, her boyfriend of seven months, in the parking lot. As he approached, concerned, she ran off. Itoh had yelled after her that she was a 'crazy bitch.' "I don't think she's focused on me right now."
Kyoko glanced at their son, flipping through a book in the backseat of the car. "You think he's lying?"
"He has a wild imagination," Makoto pointed out. Koichi was smart enough to know that embellishing things made for a better story - it was why he had said earlier the tree, struck by lightning, was hot to touch or, two days ago, that he'd seen the dog fly. "And maybe he's not even doing it intentionally. It could just be that he saw the dead fox and it triggered the memory of the dead cat…"
" - wrong." Kyoko shook her head. "Think about it."
"He didn't see the dead cat," Makoto corrected, realising the contradiction. "Really? You think my student is stalking me?"
"I think it would be naive to rule it out." Kyoko nodded toward the car. "Come on. Let's get him home."
It was a little hard to be interested in the Maida situation when he was so distracted by having Kyoko back. She fell asleep on the couch that night, the laptop she had open to research Maida abandoned. He scooped her up and attempted to carry her upstairs, the most romantic part of which ended up being her laughing into his neck as he tried to not let her slip out of his arms for the second time.
Surprisingly, he had been able to carry her once - on their wedding night, as per every ridiculous cliche ever and in hindsight, maybe the buzz from the champagne at the reception and the shiny new high of having gotten the girl of his dreams to agree to forever with him had made it seem a less impossible feat.
"I feel like I used to be stronger," Makoto sighed now, as he half dropped her onto the bed.
Kyoko smirked and began taking off her clothes. "You weren't. I used to be lighter."
He hesitated by the side of the bed. "Do you want me to sleep downstairs? I won't take it personally or anything."
"I think…" Kyoko hesitated, before pulling back the duvet fully - an invitation. "Makoto, I can't think of anything I want less."