"His name is Kensuke," Tsu-kun tells her when he gets home with blood on his clothes and a grin on his face. There is no meat clinging to him, but he reeks of smoke and ash. Of burned flesh and concrete. Faint amber traces his brown eye while the other stays bright red.

Kensuke looks between them, worried and scared.

Not of what they are, she notes, but of rejection.

Tsu-kun has always had an uncanny ability of somehow knowing, Nana inwardly admits, the predator in her shifting uneasily at the - visibly - easy compliance of the human child around her son. Tsu-kun always knew where to look, what corners to take and how far to go in search of food, who to watch when they are outside, knew what to tolerate and what he shouldn't endure in the hands of other children his age.

"Can we keep him, Mama?" Tsu-kun asks, every bit like the child he seems to be, wide-eyed and manic in the same way he had been when he brought the little bird home. It's not desperation that she sees in his expression but unquestionable certainty that Nana will play by his rules, whether she wanted to or not.

(To an extent, Nana fears it.)

"Now, Tsu-kun," she says, plays her role well and smiles despite the searing heat of her son's narrowed eyes, "Don't you think we should ask Kensuke-kun first?"

Kensuke flinches, shooting an uncertain look towards Tsu-kun who tilts his head in question. Neither pushing or rushing.

"J-just… just like that?" the human child whispers, confused. "You're just… going to…"

"Hm?" Tsu-kun blinks at him. Deliberate obliviousness, Nana realizes.

"I- I was mean to you. I pushed you down. I bullied you. I hurt you and you just... You'll… you'll give me a home? J-just like that...?"

"You already apologized. It's okay," Tsu-kun says with conviction in his voice. "You don't have to be scared anymore. I'll protect you."

Kensuke has yet to understand but Nana knows that he believes him. He must have seen firsthand what Tsu-kun is willing to do for what is his.

At that, the boy suddenly turns to her with straightened shoulders as if he's come to some sort of conclusion, drawing himself up to his full height and looking her in the eyes, undeterred and unflinching even when black and red stares back at him. Nana takes a moment to admire his courage; perhaps this is what Tsu-kun sees in him. The resolve to overcome.

"I'm sorry, Sawada-san," he says steadily. "I'm sorry for hurting Tsunayoshi. I'm sorry for being mean to him."

"Kensuke-" Tsu-kun tries to say, the mildly chastising and exasperated tone of his voice and the press of his palm against Kensuke's back like the flick of an orchestrator's wrist in the conduction of a cacophony of chaos, the stalk of a predator circling its defenseless, weakened, vulnerable prey.

"I-If… if it's okay," the human child suddenly deflates, his shoulders tense in a way that tells her he's bracing to be hit and screamed at, "Can I… stay?"

Nana slowly kneels in front of him. Tsu-kun watches her with sharp eyes.

This boy is his, the look in them rages, screams. Know your place.

"Kensuke-kun," she says softly so as not to startle him, careful not to touch and not to draw too near. "Do you want to? Despite knowing what we are?"

He inhales sharply. She could tell he isn't used to being given options or comfortable with the idea of making a choice for himself. Tsu-kun knows this. Made use of it.

"I…" He shuts his eyes, fingers clenched tightly by his sides. "I want to. I want to stay. I want to make it up to Tsunayoshi. I want to protect him, too, even if..."

Tsu-kun's eyes are piercing and violent in his decision to remain silent, the heat around him seeming to intensify until even she had to take a few steps back to breathe. His, every fibre of his being says. He is mine to keep. I will devour anyone who tries to hurt him.

"Kensuke-kun. Look at me."

He tentatively lifts his head and opens his eyes, his entire body trembling.

"It's okay. Trust me, it's okay. I won't hurt you."

Kensuke looks at her with teary eyes.

"Of course you can stay," she says, smiling warmly, and those words are all it takes for Kensuke to break. Tears slip down his cheeks as he cries into her opened arms, tears that have never been shed and screams that have never been heard, heartache and hurt that has been forgotten with the death of his mother and buried under the bloodied knuckles of his father.

Tsu-kun smiles at it all, like he hadn't planned this from the beginning.