Chapter 36: Before the World Wakes Again || Sekai ga Mata Ugokidasu Mae ni

  Shunsuke’s apartment, Roppongi → November 2nd, 2022

  “Healing is not loud. Sometimes it is just breakfast, shared.”

  Miyu stepped silently into the bedroom, her eyes adjusting to the low light. She found Shunsuke awake, his gaze fixed on the ceiling while Kuro remained curled at his side, snoring with rhythmic, soft puffs of air. When Shunsuke’s eyes met hers, they were clouded with a lingering, heavy guilt.

  "I'm sorry, Miyu," he murmured, the words rough with exhaustion.

  Miyu didn't let him dwell there. She offered a small, resolute shake of her head and a smile that was all warmth. "Shunsuke, don't you dare apologize. What happened out there was a normal reaction. Your mind couldn't distinguish between a memory and a real danger—it was just trying to protect you."

  She moved with a quiet grace, undressing and slipping into her side of the bed. The sheets rustled softly as she edged closer to him. Sensing her need to be near, Shunsuke shifted, his body instinctively creating a space for her. He opened his arms, a silent invitation he had offered a thousand times, yet it felt more sacred tonight.

  "Come here, Mochi," he murmured. As she settled into his embrace, her head resting against his chest, he buried his face in her hair. "Thank you for sticking with me," he whispered into the silence. "I don't know why you do, but thank you."

  Shunsuke was so focused on the steadying weight of Miyu in his arms that he didn't realize his shifting had disturbed the third member of their bedside party. A sharp, indignant chirp echoed from the mattress—the unmistakable sound of a raccoon who had been rudely awakened from a dream about grapes.

  "Sorry, Kuro," Shunsuke whispered, his voice warm with genuine affection as he reached out to pat the raccoon’s head.

  Kuro wasn't easily mollified. He let out another sharp chirp and scrambled onto his hind legs. He braced his front paws against Shunsuke’s side, peering over the "wall" of Shunsuke’s arm to look down at the two of them snuggled together. His masked face moved back and forth, black eyes blinking with what looked like pure judgment.

  "I think your raccoon is jealous," Miyu said, her eyes crinkling with amusement. She reached out a finger to tickle Kuro’s chin, but the raccoon kept his focus squarely on Shunsuke, his little nose twitching.

  Shunsuke chuckled, the vibration of it deep in his chest where Miyu was resting. "Yes, I think he definitely is. He’s used to being the only one allowed to take up this much space." He shifted slightly, making room for the "Prince" to wedge himself into the middle of their embrace. "Come here then, you dramatic creature."

  Kuro didn't need a second invitation. He crawled into the space between them, his thick fur a fuzzy barrier, and let out a long, satisfied sigh before flopping down.

  "There," Miyu whispered, her hand finding Shunsuke’s over Kuro’s back. "The family is all together."

  Shunsuke drifted awake as the first pale light of dawn touched the room. The bed felt a little lighter—Kuro had clearly decided that "snuggling" was a nighttime activity and had migrated. Glancing toward the balcony, Shunsuke saw the raccoon tucked securely into one of the custom-made sleeping nooks nestled between the flower pots. Kuro was a ball of grey fur, his ringed tail draped over his nose, perfectly content in his outdoor sanctuary.

  Miyu was still deep in sleep, her breathing slow and rhythmic as she snuggled against his side. She looked younger in the morning light, her face free of the protective tension she carried when the world was watching.

  On the nightstand, Shunsuke’s phone buzzed—a short, insistent vibration that cut through the silence. He didn't reach for it. He didn't want to know about the Gumi, he didn't want to see a message and he didn't want to break the spell of this moment.

  Instead, he tightened his hold on Miyu just a fraction, pulling her closer and pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead. He inhaled the scent of her shampoo—something floral and clean—and closed his eyes again. For now, the world could wait.

  The sanctuary of the bedroom didn't last long. The door sprang open with a sharp click, and Yuki came barreling in like a small, energetic cyclone. She scrambled onto the mattress, her knees landing unceremoniously on the duvet.

  "Mama~ Papa~! It’s late~!" she sang out playfully, her voice a high-pitched alarm clock that brooked no snooze button.

  Miyu groaned softly into her pillow, and Shunsuke squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold onto the last remnants of sleep. When neither of them made a move to actually get out of bed, Yuki’s playful expression shifted into a determined pout. She grabbed the edge of the heavy blanket with both hands and began to tug with all her might.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  "No, no, no," Shunsuke murmured sleepily, his reflexes kicking in just as the cold morning air began to hit their legs. He reached out and gently but firmly hooked the fabric, pulling it back up to their waists. "Five minutes, Yuki. Give us five minutes..."

  Yuki whipped around, her hands on her hips in a perfect imitation of a miniature boss. "No~! Now~!"

  As if Kuro had been waiting for the reinforcements to arrive, he sauntered back through the balcony door, adding his own high-pitched chirps to Yuki’s demands. The "Prince" was clearly done with his morning nap and was ready for service to begin.

  Both Miyu and Shunsuke groaned into their pillows, the sound muffled and tired. "No more tuna for you, Kuro," Shunsuke teased, his voice thick with sleep. "You’re already acting like the landlord."

  Kuro didn't take the threat well. He scrambled onto the bed, dodging Yuki’s grabbing hands, and stood directly over Shunsuke. He let out a series of indignant chirps, his little chest puffing out as if he were delivering a formal reprimand for the lack of a breakfast buffet.

  "No, Kuro. I mean it," Shunsuke murmured playfully, though a smile was finally tugging at the corners of his mouth. "No tuna. No grapes. You’ve been fired."

  The raccoon let out a sound of utter disbelief. He moved to Shunsuke’s back, bracing his front paws against his shoulder blades, and began to push and pull—literally trying to shake his human out of the bed. It was a rhythmic, determined effort that made the whole mattress vibrate.

  Miyu finally broke, sitting up and laughing as she watched the raccoon "muscle" Shunsuke. "I think he’s winning, Shunsuke. Between him and Yuki, we’re outnumbered."

  Miyu moved through the kitchen with a practiced, graceful efficiency, though her shadow was currently a very loud, very impatient raccoon. Kuro was planted firmly by her heels, his chirps increasing in frequency and volume with every second the food remained out of his reach.

  "Kuro, it doesn't get faster with all the chirping," Miyu said gently, stepping around him to grab the plates.

  At the table, Yuki was a mirror of Kuro’s impatience, her chair tipping precariously as she whipped back and forth. "Yuki, stop. You’ll hurt yourself," Miyu said, her voice firm but underlined with a mother’s warmth.

  Yuki stopped the chair but immediately transferred the energy to her legs, kicking them rhythmically against the rungs. Kuro, sensing a fellow rebel, let out an even louder, more demanding chirp that sounded suspiciously like a protest.

  Miyu let out a long, dramatic sigh. "Mama, you're too slow for Kuro!" Yuki sang out playfully, her eyes bright with mischief.

  Miyu paused, looking down at the masked face of the raccoon. "You should be happy you get breakfast at all, you little yokai," she teased, using the term for a supernatural trickster. "Most raccoons have to dig through bins; you have a personal chef."

  Shunsuke wandered into the living area, a towel draped around his neck and his hair still damp from a quick, hot shower. He looked refreshed, the sharp edges of his exhaustion softened by the sight of the domestic circus in the kitchen.

  Miyu caught his eye over the counter, a spatula in one hand and an impatient raccoon at her heels. "Next time you decide to adopt a pet," she teased, her eyes dancing with mischief, "please don't let it know that it lives in the most expensive apartment complex in Tokyo. He has developed a real taste for luxury service."

  Shunsuke let out a genuine, booming laugh that made Yuki look up and beam. "I'll try," he said playfully, leaning against the counter and watching Kuro try to inspect the contents of a frying pan. "But I think the damage is done. He’s already realized that the view from the balcony is directly proportional to the quality of the grapes."

  He reached out, his fingers brushing against Miyu’s arm in a silent, grounding touch as he passed her to get to the coffee. It was a simple gesture, but it anchored them both—a reminder that despite the files Ryuichi was currently holding, this was their reality now.

  Kuro abandoned his post at Miyu’s heels and trotted over to Shunsuke, his little paws pattering rhythmically on the hardwood. He let out a series of sharp, urgent chirps, his eyes fixed on Shunsuke’s face as if filing a formal grievance about the lack of service in this household.

  Shunsuke laughed, the sound warm and grounding. He leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Miyu’s temple, his hand resting briefly on her waist. "I’ll take over," he said softly, his voice dropping into that gentle register he reserved only for her. "I’ll take care of Kuro’s breakfast."

  Miyu leaned into his touch for a second, a small, relieved smile playing on her lips. "Alright..." she said, stepping back to give him room at the counter. She looked down at the raccoon and wagged a playful finger. "You heard the man, Kuro. Now you have to direct your complaints to Shunsuke. I’m officially off duty."

  Kuro didn't miss a beat. He immediately sat up on his hind legs, paws tucked against his chest, and gave Shunsuke an expectant look that said: Tuna. Now.

  The rice cooker finished its cycle with a cheerful, electronic chime, and Shunsuke immediately set to work. He scooped the steaming white rice into a bowl, carefully separating a small portion for Kuro before seasoning the rest for the table.

  As he turned toward the fridge to get the tuna, he nearly tripped over the raccoon, who was weaving between his ankles like an over-excited shadow. Shunsuke caught his balance with a practiced laugh. "Patience, you little monster," he muttered affectionately.

  He opened the tin, taking the time to rinse the tuna thoroughly—Kuro was prone to stomach upsets if things were too salty—and mixed it into the reserved rice. He walked the bowl over to the "blanket fortress" in the corner of the living area and set it down.

  Kuro let out a high-pitched, triumphant chirp and immediately dove in. Before taking his first bite, however, the raccoon paused. He looked up, giving Miyu a pointed, side-eyed glance that clearly said: See? This is how it's done.

  Miyu leaned against the counter, clutching her coffee mug and laughing softly. "I think I’ve been officially demoted," she whispered as Shunsuke walked back toward her.