Aqua slipped out of the bathroom, careful not to disturb Ruby's enthusiastic teeth-brushing performance. His bare feet padded silently across the hardwood floor as he made his way toward the living room. The apartment felt different this morning—charged with an energy he couldn't name but instinctively recognized.
He paused at the edge of the hallway, watching the adults. Toshiro stood in their kitchen like he belonged there, measuring flour while Ai answered her phone. Their movements around each other had changed—a new awareness in the way they occupied shared space, like magnets constantly adjusting to each other's pull.
Aqua closed his eyes, leaning against the wall. The memory of last night's sounds flooded back.
It had started with muffled voices from Ai's bedroom after Ruby fell asleep. Nothing unusual there—Ai often took phone calls late at night. But then came other sounds. Rhythmic thumping. A headboard knocking against the wall. Choked gasps and strangled moans that Ai had tried to muffle.
Schlap. Schlap. Schlap.
Aqua had pulled his pillow over his head, but the sounds persisted. Not because they were particularly loud, but because his brain, cursed with intelligence beyond his years, understood their meaning all too well.
Ai and Toshiro were mating. Like the nature documentaries he sometimes watched. Like the rabbits in the children's book that mysteriously kept increasing in number with each page.
He'd fallen asleep eventually, only to wake hours later to the sound of running water and more muffled noises from the bathroom. His brilliant mind had instantly connected the dots, painting pictures he desperately wished to erase.
"Shit," Ai whispered now, jolting Aqua back to the present. "Ichigo's here. Right now. Coming up."
Aqua opened his eyes, observing the panic that flashed across Ai's face. Interesting. She'd never worried about Ichigo's visits before. Toshiro moved to arrange the couch to mimic a sleeping area, his voice low and reassuring.
"Like we were up late talking, and I crashed on your couch."
Aqua frowned. Adults and their elaborate fictions. Did they think children couldn't see through such obvious deceptions? Ruby might be fooled, but Ruby still believed in magical talking animals and fairy godmothers.
A sharp knock echoed through the apartment.
"Mama?" Ruby called from the bathroom. "Someone's here!"
Aqua retreated further into the hallway shadow, not yet ready to join this complicated adult dance. Better to observe first, understand the new dynamics. Ruby emerged from the bathroom, face freshly scrubbed and hair still wild .
"Is Toshiro still here?" she asked, spotting Aqua.
He nodded, watching her eyes light up.
"Do you think he'll stay forever?" Ruby continued, bouncing on her toes.
The question struck Aqua with unexpected force. Would Toshiro stay? Would he become a permanent fixture in their carefully balanced lives? The possibility created conflicting emotions that Aqua's young mind struggled to categorize.
"Nobody stays forever, Ruby," he replied, more sharply than intended.
Ruby's face fell momentarily before rebounding with typical resilience. "You don't know that. Maybe he will."
Before Aqua could respond, the apartment door opened, revealing Ichigo in his trademark black suit. The atmosphere shifted instantly, tension crackling like static electricity.
"Apparently," Ichigo's dry voice carried down the hallway, "I'm not the only one."
Ruby darted past Aqua toward the door. "Itsugo! Toshiro slept over! He's making pancakes with Momma!"
Aqua followed more slowly, analyzing the tableau in the living room. Ichigo stood just inside the doorway, sunglasses pushed down his nose, eyes moving methodically between Ai and Toshiro. Ai's posture had changed—shoulders back, chin lifted slightly, the stance she took when performing. Toshiro remained by the kitchen counter, his borrowed t-shirt stretching awkwardly across his broader frame.
"Pancakes, huh?" Ichigo set the coffee carrier on the entryway table. "Sounds domestic."
"Toshiro fell asleep on the couch," Ai explained, her voice carrying the same smooth quality she used in interviews. "We were talking late, and it seemed silly to make him walk after the station closed."
"Talking."
"About choreography," Toshiro added, his own expression perfectly composed. "For the collaboration."
Aqua moved to the couch, running his hand over the hastily arranged blanket. It was cold—no residual body heat. He looked up to find Ichigo watching him.
"Ruby," Ichigo said, not taking his eyes off Aqua, "why don't you show me your new drawing?"
Ruby lit up. "Yes! It's in my room! I made a spaceship for Aqua and me!"
As Ruby dragged Ichigo down the hallway, Aqua remained in the living room, now alone with the two guilty parties. Toshiro cleared his throat.
"Morning, Aqua," he said, voice carefully casual. "Sleep well?"
Aqua looked between them, noting Ai's slightly swollen lips and the shadow of a mark peeking above her sweater collar. Toshiro's hair, though brushed, still bore signs of having been grabbed repeatedly.
"Not particularly," Aqua replied, his voice flat. "The walls are thin."
Ai's face drained of color. "What?"
"I heard you talking," Aqua clarified, watching relief flood her features. He didn't mention the other sounds. Some mercies were within reach, even for a two-year-old with an adult's comprehension.
Toshiro looked at him with those strange blue eyes that seemed to hold secrets beyond his apparent age. "Aqua," he began, then stopped, as if unsure how to continue.
The doorbell's chime saved them all from further awkwardness.
"That'll be Miyako," Ai said, moving quickly to the door.
Miyako swept in with her typical dramatic flair, strawberry-blonde hair bouncing and a box from the local bakery balanced in her manicured hands. "Morning, darlings! I brought—" Her words died as she spotted Toshiro. Her rouge-colored eyes widened before a slow, knowing smile spread across her face.
"Well, well," she drawled, setting the pastry box on the counter. "Toshiro Kagami in the flesh. And at such an early hour."
"Miyako," Ai warned.
"What? I'm just saying good morning to our guest." Miyako's smile grew impossibly more smug. "The very handsome, very tall guest wearing what looks suspiciously like Ichigo's old t-shirt."
"I fell asleep on the couch," Toshiro explained, the lie sounding less convincing with each repetition.
"Of course you did. And I'm sure you slept very soundly. No disturbances at all."
Miyako had always treated him with respect, never speaking down to him despite his age since the 'deity incident'. He appreciated that about her, even when her teasing made Ai uncomfortable.
"I brought croissants," Miyako continued, opening the pastry box. "Though I only counted on feeding four, not five."
"I don't eat much," Toshiro offered.
"I'm sure you worked up quite an appetite," Miyako replied innocently. "From all that late-night talking."
Ai looked ready to strangle her when Ichigo returned with Ruby, who was proudly displaying a crayon drawing of what might generously be called a spaceship.
"Where's Aqua's room?" Ichigo asked, his tone deceptively casual.
"Next to mine," Ruby answered. "He has all the boring books."
Aqua stiffened, understanding Ichigo's strategy. The man was too smart to be fooled by hastily arranged blankets and flimsy excuses.
"Miyako brought croissants," Ai interjected quickly. "Ruby, why don't you help set the table?"
As Ruby scrambled to retrieve plates, the adults converged in the kitchen, leaving Aqua momentarily forgotten. He remained on the couch, observing.
"So," Ichigo said, voice low. "Choreography."
"It's not what you think," Ai began.
"It's exactly what you think," Miyako countered, arranging croissants on a plate. "And about time, if you ask me."
"Nobody asked you," Ai hissed.
Toshiro cleared his throat. "Ichigo, I should explain—"
"Save it." Ichigo removed his sunglasses entirely, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You damn idols. Always complicating things."
"I take full responsibility," Toshiro said.
Ichigo shook his head. "I'm not your father, Ai. Or yours, Kagami. You're adults."
"Then why do you look like you want to murder someone?" Miyako asked, stealing a piece of croissant.
"Because this is complicated, and you all know it." Ichigo's gaze flickered toward Aqua, then Ruby, who was happily arranging napkins at the table. "There are considerations beyond just the two of you."
Aqua slid off the couch and approached the kitchen. Four pairs of adult eyes turned to him, conversations halting mid-sentence.
"Aqua," Ai said, her voice softening. "Did you want orange juice or milk with breakfast?"
He ignored the question, looking directly at Toshiro instead. "Are you going to stay?"
The simple query landed like a stone in still water, ripples of tension expanding outward. Toshiro crouched to Aqua's level, meeting his gaze directly.
"Do you want me to?"
Aqua considered this seriously, weighing the evidence. Toshiro made Ai laugh more than anyone else. He answered questions honestly, even the difficult ones. He never treated Aqua like he was just a child.
And most importantly, Ai looked at him differently than she looked at anyone else—like she wasn't performing, wasn't calculating, was just... being.
"Yes," Aqua decided finally. "But not if you're going to leave. Ruby gets attached too easily."
Ruby gets attached. Not him. Never him. Aqua was too smart for such vulnerabilities.
Something shifted in Toshiro's expression—a recognition, perhaps, of what Aqua was really saying. "I'm not planning to leave," he said quietly. "Not unless your mother wants me to."
"Ai," Aqua corrected automatically.
"Not unless Ai wants me to," he amended.
Aqua studied him for several long seconds, searching for signs of deception. Finding none, he nodded once, decision made. "Then you can stay."
Miyako stifled a laugh. Ichigo sighed heavily. Ai looked caught between mortification and amusement.
"Well, that's settled then," Miyako declared, clapping her hands. "The crown prince has spoken."
"What's settled?" Ruby asked, appearing beside Aqua with perfect timing.
"Toshiro's going to be around more often," Aqua explained, watching her face light up with predictable joy.
"Really? Like for dinner and bedtime stories and everything?"
"If that's okay with you," Toshiro said, his smile gentle.
Ruby launched herself at him with enough force to nearly topple his crouched form. "Yes! Yes yes yes!"
Over Ruby's shoulder, Toshiro's eyes met Ai's, something private passing between them. Aqua observed the exchange with clinical interest. Adults were strange creatures, creating unnecessary complications then acting surprised when caught in their own tangled webs.
"Don't you have practice today?" Ichigo asked Toshiro, breaking the moment.
"At ten," Toshiro confirmed, extracting himself from Ruby's enthusiastic embrace. "With PRISM."
"And you," Ichigo turned to Ai, "have that TV show filming. Guest appearance on 'Tokyo Hearts' at eleven."
"I remember," Ai said.
"So we should probably eat those croissants," Miyako suggested, "before everyone has to rush off to their respective responsibilities."
They settled around the table, a strange collection of people that somehow fit together despite their differences. Ruby chattered about her spaceship drawing. Miyako teased Toshiro about his borrowed clothes. Ichigo discussed scheduling logistics with Ai. Normal breakfast conversation, as if nothing fundamental had changed overnight.
But everything had changed. Aqua felt it in the new gravity that seemed to exist between Ai and Toshiro, pulling them into each other's orbits. He saw it in the way Ruby had already incorporated Toshiro into her vision of their future.
Their family unit, previously consisting of just three—Ai, Ruby, and himself—had expanded to include another. The implications were vast, the potential complications numerous.
Aqua bit into his croissant, considering. He would need to observe carefully, catalog the changes, adapt to this new dynamic. And ensure that Ruby didn't get hurt if things fell apart.
Because things fell apart sometimes. That was the one constant in an unpredictable universe.
But as he watched Toshiro gently wipe chocolate from Ruby's chin, as he noted the soft smile Ai couldn't seem to suppress when looking at them both, Aqua felt an unfamiliar emotion creep past his carefully constructed defenses.
Hope. Dangerous, irrational hope that maybe this time, things wouldn't fall apart after all.