Dragon, ever composed, tilted her drone's head just slightly. "I assume you're aware this adoption would come with certain legal, financial, and custodial responsibilities."
Satoshi nodded, already anticipating the question.
"We're both legally registered as having immigrated from Britain a couple of months ago," he said. "Unemployed for now, yeah, but that's temporary."
"Temporary how?"
"I'm a chef. My plan's to open a restaurant. We've got money saved up"—he glanced briefly at Emiya—"enough to live on for a couple of months while I scout locations. Once I sell the house we're currently registered to—"
"That small property outside town?"
Satoshi nodded. "Yeah. It's ours legally. Once we sell it, I should be in a better position financially."
He smiled softly. "And then… eventually? I'd like to open a soup kitchen. For people who can't afford good meals, but still deserve one."
Dragon was quiet for a moment. "That's a very… optimistic plan."
"Realistic," Satoshi said. "It's what I'm good at."
"Do you plan to stay in this region?"
Satoshi paused. Then looked at Emiya with a very dry expression. "Well, I've heard Brockton Bay is pretty cheap these days."
Dragon's optics dimmed slightly in concern. "It's also dangerous. The ABB and Empire Eighty-Eight have active territory conflicts. Not quite Boston's level, but still—"
"Luckily," EMIYA cut in, tone cool and clipped, "I plan to be there too."
Dragon turned slightly toward him. "Are you planning to register as a PRT cape? Or work independently?"
EMIYA shrugged. "I was going to be his restaurant's bodyguard."
Satoshi stifled a laugh. "Security chief," he corrected, mock-solemn.
"You don't seem interested in formal cape work."
"I'm not."
"Some powers—especially fresh triggers—find themselves drawn to conflict. It's not uncommon."
"I don't go looking for fights," EMIYA said calmly. "Fights just find me."
A pause. Then, evenly: "Don't worry about me, I'm not a fresh trigger."
Dragon's drone paused again, quiet whirring signaling she was recording everything. Then she spoke. "I'll prepare a preliminary file to submit for guardianship, but I'll need to confirm with the local PRT and child welfare authorities before any long-term placement decisions can be finalized."
Satoshi nodded. He'd expected that.
"In the meantime, you are permitted to return to your registered residence with Riley. The one outside of town."
Emiya inclined his head silently.
"You'll need to stay in-state. No cross-border travel with her for the time being. And keep your phones on. I'll contact you as soon as I have updates."
Satoshi let out a small breath of relief. "That's… fair. Thank you."
"I'll also have supplies delivered later today. Bedding. Food. Emotional support literature."
"Can't say no to free groceries, even if we will surely want Riley to choose her own stuff."
Emiya sighed beside him, clearly done with the conversation—but still present.
Satoshi stood, brushing his palms on his coat. "If there's nothing else…"
"You're dismissed," Dragon confirmed. "I'll keep you informed. Also, don't worry, your breakfast will be served shortly."
Satoshi turned and exited the office quietly, the door hissing softly behind him. Just outside, seated in a stiff plastic chair under the watchful but distant gaze of a soldier, Riley was clutching Ralts like a lifeline. The moment she saw him, her eyes lit up—nervous, but hopeful.
"Am I in trouble?" she asked quickly. "Do they wanna take me?"
Satoshi crouched down to her level and offered a small, warm smile. "No. You're coming home with us."
Her eyes widened. "Really?"
"For now, yes," he said gently, not wanting to overwhelm her. "You'll be staying with us in our house."
He paused. "We can't leave the state, though. And we have to check in from time to time."
"But I can… stay with you?" she asked again, as if needing to hear it twice to believe it.
Satoshi nodded. "Yes."
She didn't cry, but she launched herself forward and wrapped her arms tightly around his middle.
Ralts trilled softly, clinging to both of them.
And for the first time that day, Satoshi felt like maybe everything was going to be okay.
.
The house was… bigger than he expected. Nestled just outside the town limits, the modest exterior gave way to a surprisingly spacious interior once they stepped inside. Light filtered in through tall windows, dust motes dancing lazily in the air. The hardwood floors creaked under their feet, but they were sturdy. Lived-in, not neglected.
Satoshi stepped into the open foyer and looked around with cautious awe.
It was all here—furnished, functional, almost staged to feel like a real home. Kitchen to the left. Living room ahead. A wide staircase on the right led to a second floor. There were multiple bedrooms. More than enough space.
Enough for more than just the three of them.
Riley let out a small gasp behind him, stepping in slowly with Ralts perched on her shoulder like a tiny psychic scout.
"This is your house?" she asked.
Satoshi blinked. "Uh… yeah. I guess it is."
He took a few more steps inside, spinning slowly on his heel as he looked over the space and whispered to Emiya, "Feels weird, right? Walking into something that's legally yours, but you've never seen before?"
Behind him, Emiya entered last—boots soft against the floor. He didn't say anything, but his eyes scanned the place carefully, methodically. Every entryway, window, and structural point was being assessed like a battlefield.
Of course it was.
Satoshi caught him pausing to check the bolt on the back door and chuckled. "Planning your escape routes already?"
"Just making sure we don't get any surprise visitors."
"Sure. Totally normal homey stuff."
Riley wandered into the living room, trailing her fingers along the back of a wide, plush couch. "It's so… clean. Like, too clean."
"It's almost like a catalog house," Satoshi murmured. "Because, y'know, it is."
He ran a hand over the dining table. Polished. Not a speck of dust. No smell of must or mildew. Everything here had been prepared for them by the Company—down to the placement of the decorative salt shaker.
It was ready to sell.
And eventually, it would.
"We'll probably only be here for a little while," Satoshi said absently. "Once things settle, we'll look into moving to Brockton Bay. Sell this place, get something smaller near the restaurant—if the restaurant happens."
"It'll happen," Emiya said simply.
Satoshi glanced over his shoulder at him. "You really think so?"
"You're too stubborn for it not to."
Satoshi smiled faintly. "I'll take that as a compliment."
.
Satoshi leaned against the hallway wall as Riley skipped toward the bathroom with Ralts, who let out a cheerful hum.
"Take your time," he called after her. "Hot water's a gift, not a race."
Riley gave a thumbs-up before the door closed.
With the soft sound of water starting behind it, Satoshi turned to Emiya, who was peering at a vent like it might be hiding a bomb.
"While we wait," Satoshi said, gesturing down the hall, "wanna help me keep exploring? I kinda wanna know if this house came with clothes or if we're living like time-traveling hobos."
They retraced their steps to the first room Satoshi had woken in—a spacious, high-ceilinged master bedroom that now looked significantly less mysterious and more... lived-in.
The bed was king-sized. The blanket still ruffled from his earlier panic-waking. But what caught his attention now was the walk-in closet to the side.
He pushed the door open and stepped in. On the left: modern, comfortable clothes in his size. A few folded outfits on shelves. Socks. Underwear. Even house slippers.
Satoshi blinked in pleased surprise. "Well, what do you know. They thought of everything."
Then he turned to the right-side door.
"Wonder if this one's Emiya's," he muttered, opening it—
—only to freeze.
The first half looked normal enough: dark slacks, button-downs, a couple hoodies, workout gear. Functional.
But the other half—Lace. Glossy fabric. A red maid outfit.
Satoshi slammed the door shut and stepped back, heart racing.
He turned slowly—
Emiya was already there, behind him.
Deadpan.
Silent.
"…Was that cosplay and lingerie?" he asked flatly.
Satoshi's voice cracked. "S-sorry?"
Emiya exhaled, long-suffering. "Let's remove that before Riley finds it."
He turned. "And we're inspecting this whole house. Thoroughly. In case the Company left us other 'surprises.'"
"Please never say that word again."
Emiya was already walking away.
Satoshi sighed and followed. "Next closet's yours."
.
They started in the master bedroom.
Ten minutes later, they both regretted it.
"Well," Satoshi muttered, holding up a sleek black box from the nightstand drawer. "This is definitely not a remote."
Emiya didn't even blink. He was already digging through the other nightstand with the resigned efficiency of someone trained to search corpses. He pulled out a bottle. "…Lavender-scented."
Satoshi gave him a side-eye. "Why is everything scented?"
"Would you prefer unscented lube in your Company-issued drawer?"
"Please stop talking."
The main bathroom was next.
Satoshi opened the mirror cabinet—and immediately closed it. "…Nope."
Emiya reached past him, opened it again, and pulled out a branded Company 'romance starter pack."
Inside: lube, condoms, massage oil, and a—"Is that a feather duster?"
"I'm putting this in the burn pile," Emiya said flatly.
They moved to the guest bedroom. Satoshi opened the top drawer of the dresser and yelped. He slapped it shut like he'd just seen a ghost. "Vibrator."
"How big?"
"Too big."
They moved faster after that. Closets. Storage bins. A false bottom in one of the drawers with a set of fuzzy handcuffs and a note that read "Enjoy your honeymoon!"
"Why does the Company have vibes?" Satoshi asked as he tied a trash bag full of unfortunate discoveries.
Emiya shrugged. "Probably figured if you picked me, you had a thing for emotionally distant men, Isshiki."
Satoshi flushed. "That is an insane leap."
"But not incorrect."
"Shut up, Emiya. Also, call me Satoshi, please."
Emiya didn't answer, merely humming.
By the time Riley emerged from the bath—clean, fluffy-haired, and holding Ralts like a plushie—Satoshi and Emiya had already filled two trash bags.
"Whatcha doing?" Riley asked curiously.
Satoshi blinked, smiled, and swiftly set the bag behind his back. "Spring cleaning."
Emiya said nothing.
He just gave Satoshi a long, unimpressed look.
And took out the next trash bag.
.
.
Also, if you want to support me and read chapters ahead, go to my p@treon: JorieDS