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Some say that Suo Hayato, the executive of Bankoku-gai, is cold-blooded, ruthless, and cruel.
Others say that Suo Hayato, the executive of Bankoku-gai, is gentle yet powerful, and protects the weak.
And still others say that Suo Hayato, the executive of Bankoku-gai, is deep and scheming.
But the most popular rumor of all is: Suo Hayato, the executive of Bankoku-gai, has both a cat and a dog.
Suo still remembered the day he found them in a cardboard box on the street corner. Inside the worn box, someone had written the names "Sakura Haruka (cat)" and "Nirei Akihiko (dog)" on the side. One of them was curled up in the corner, while the other stood guard in front — a small black-and-white cat with his back arched and fur puffed up in all directions, and behind him, a tiny golden Pomeranian curled into a ball, so small and thin that his whimpers were barely audible.
Suo couldn't understand why pets with such formal names had been abandoned. When he reached out, he nearly got scratched by the kitten — or rather, Sakura. That look of vigilance and fear in his eyes made Suo unconsciously feel a flash of anger: what kind of past could make a kid show such an expression?
He crouched down, holding his hand in the air, neither reaching out nor pulling back, patiently showing Sakura that he meant no harm.
"I don't mean any harm. Besides, the one behind you — he needs help, doesn't he?" Suo looked at the tiny dog curled up in a ball.
As if understanding human speech, Sakura turned to look at Nirei, then back at Suo. His claws extended, then retracted, and finally, after a moment of hesitation, he pulled them back completely. Suo let out a quiet breath of relief. Seizing the chance, he took off his jacket, wrapped both of them up without a second thought, and headed straight for the animal hospital.
After they were cleaned and bandaged at the hospital, the two little animals finally revealed their true forms: a black-and-white cat and a golden dog. Sakura had several old wounds on him, while Nirei was so thin you could feel his bones — when he lay down, he barely seemed to have any shape at all.
Suo stayed by their side while they were still under anesthesia.
Nirei's eyes were only half-open, but he seemed to sense Suo's presence. Curious and warm toward the human who had saved him, he weakly pressed himself closer. The warm touch made Suo a little flustered. he tentatively reached out and patted him a couple of times.
"if, "he thought to himself, listening to Nirei's soft little whimpers, "if you were really abandoned, then I'll take care of you."
The direct result of this was that although rumors about Suo Hayato were flying everywhere — from every angle, with all sorts of descriptions, many of them contradictory — the one about him having "both a cat and a dog" was confirmed by most people.
The reason this oddly specific detail became the most widely known piece of information was that, on the very first day the young red-haired boy brought the cat and dog home from the hospital, he somehow got lost in Bankoku-gai. Half of Red Champuru saw him — and naturally, they also saw the cat and dog in his arms.
Uncle Lin, who ran the herbal tea shop, asked him where he'd gotten the little cat and dog. Suo Hayato replied that he'd found them on the road and brought them back because they looked pitiful. Uncle Lin, with a mischievous streak, teased the boy — even though he could see how tightly Suo was holding them, he still said he loved small animals himself and offered to take them in and keep them at the tea shop.
Suo pulled the two little ones closer to his chest, his face still smiling, but his words were firm: "Uncle Lin, I can handle it myself." Sakura was probably squeezed a bit too tightly; he struggled a couple of times, and Suo quickly loosened his hold. That movement must have made Nirei feel unsteady, because the little dog frantically grabbed onto Suo's sleeve, and the boy scrambled to support him.
Seeing that, Uncle Lin laughed out loud and stopped teasing him. He waved his hand, telling him to hurry home. After Suo had walked away, Uncle Lin shook his head and said to the young helper beside him, "This kid took two extra streets just to get to my shop tonight — would you believe it?"
He'd seen right through Suo's childish desire to show off his new friends. Uncle Lin watched the direction in which Suo had disappeared. Those cat and dog really were beautiful, but they'd been hurt before. If Suo wanted to earn their trust, he'd have to put in quite a bit of effort.
Uncle Lin's sharp eye, honed by years in the neighborhood, was spot-on — not just about Suo, but about the cat and dog as well. On the very first day home, Sakura gave Suo a real challenge: the moment the kitten was set down on the floor, he shot off like a streak of lightning and dove straight under the cabinet. The space was too narrow for Suo to reach in, and he couldn't just sweep Sakura out like an object, so he had no choice but to leave him be.
Suo's home wasn't prepared for small animals. After a while, he dragged a soft cushion out of the storage room and placed it in a corner of the living room — a temporary bed. Brushing the dust off his hands, he went to look for Nirei, and was surprised to find that Nirei had dust on him too. "Where did that come from?" Suo was puzzled. Still, the house had plenty of corners he couldn't always keep clean, maybe Nirei had just wandered into one.
He wiped Nirei down and carried him to the cushion. "Nire-kun and Sakura-kun can use this cushion for now."
Nirei wagged his tail, looking back at Suo and then at the cushion, hesitating slightly. Suo chuckled softly and gave Nirei a gentle push from behind. The little dog stumbled forward a couple of steps and stepped onto the cushion. The soft cushion was springy; Nirei's paws almost sank into it. As if forgetting everything he'd just been through, the little dog happily began running around on it.
After two laps, he ran off the cushion again. Suo watched what he did next: the little golden Pomeranian grabbed the cushion with his mouth and tugged and pulled, managing to drag it only a couple of steps with great effort.
"Oh my, Nire-kun, where are you trying to take the cushion?"
Only then did Suo look up and see the little dog's destination — the cabinet where Sakura was hiding. "ok, I see." Suo placed Nirei back on the cushion, then easily lifted both the cushion and the dog and carried them over to the cabinet.
There was no sound from under the cabinet, but Suo could almost picture Sakura's wary gaze. He knew that Sakura's initial retreat had likely been a pragmatic decision: Sakura had understood that Nirei's condition couldn't wait any longer.
He guessed that Sakura and Nirei hadn't always been mistreated, but maybe they'd encountered someone with a fleeting enthusiasm — or worse, someone whose true nature had eventually surfaced. That was why, even though Suo had saved them, Sakura still found it hard to let his guard down. In that case, Nirei's innocence was all the more surprising...
—Where is Nire-kun?
The moment his thoughts wandered, the golden figure had disappeared. Then he heard a low growl and a bark coming from under the cabinet. Worried, Suo bent down to look — it turned out Nirei was nudging Sakura, trying to get him to come out. Sakura looked ready to puff up, a low growl rumbling in his throat, but he was really just resisting stubbornly. He swatted Nirei's head with his paw, but didn't actually do anything to hurt him.
Suo sat back down and quietly waited for the two little ones to emerge. When they finally did, both cat and dog were covered in dust. Sakura, having been nudged out, showed no intention of going back in. He flicked his tail and scrutinized Suo — and if it weren't for the dust still drifting down from his face, he might have actually looked imposing.
Suo couldn't hold back a laugh — and earned a gray paw print on his pants from Sakura's mortified retaliation.
"Alright, alright." Suo scooped up Sakura and also lifted Nirei. "Looks like we need another bath — Sakura-kun, no scratching. Nire-kun..." He suddenly realized: the dust Nirei had picked up earlier while Suo was looking for the cushion had probably come from him pawing at Sakura.
Suo let out a helpless, amused sigh.
"Looks like this house needs a good deep cleaning."
After that, the cushion was placed right in front of the cabinet. Of course, Suo still found time to give the whole house a thorough clean.
"Food is the first necessity of the people." That applies to little cats and dogs too.
Suo spent an entire afternoon in his kitchen researching pet recipes. Even he wasn't fully confident in the final product: a small dish of shredded, soft-boiled chicken breast mixed with a little mashed pumpkin, plus a bowl of kibble softened in warm water. He divided these into two portions and placed them in front of the cushion.
Nirei was enthusiastic as always. The moment Suo set the bowl down, he pounced on it. After a few bites, he let out tiny, satisfied little whimpers.
Sakura didn't come over. He stayed on the other side of the cushion, his gaze shifting between Suo and the food several times. In the end, his eyes settled on the bowl, but he never took a step forward. Suo didn't rush him, nor did he push the bowl closer. He waited until Nirei had finished eating, then picked up the bowl, stood, and walked away as if nothing had happened.
But he didn't go far. He slipped into the hallway, leaned his back against the wall, and listened to the sounds from the living room. At first, there was nothing — just a few soft grunts from Nirei. Suo gradually realized that Nirei and Sakura seemed to be able to communicate somehow — probably a默契 born from spending a long time together.
Nirei must have coaxed Sakura for a while, because soon Suo heard the light, distinctive footsteps of a cat. He cautiously peeked around the corner: Sakura was already standing by the bowl. For a moment, he lowered his head, then raised it again to scan the room, his ears swiveling. Finally — *finally* — he bent down, stuck out his pink tongue, and took a quick, tiny lick.
Suo pulled his face back, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
After that day, Sakura still wouldn't eat in front of Suo, but the amount of food in the bowl began to diminish. A few days later, when Suo brought the bowl out, he found Sakura already sitting upright on the cushion, waiting for him. And eventually, Sakura finally lowered his head in Suo's presence, eating with an almost dignified composure. Occasionally he would glance up at Suo — the wariness was still there in his eyes, but beneath it, Suo thought he could faintly see something else.
Under Suo Hayato's indulgence, even where the cat and dog slept began to change.
It all started on a stormy night. Suo noticed that Nirei seemed uncomfortable — the little dog who usually bounced around the house was curled up in a corner of the cushion, and Sakura seemed less lively too. Then Suo remembered: the day he found them had also been after a thunderstorm.
That night, Suo moved the cushion to the bedside in his own bedroom. When he turned off the light and said goodnight, Nirei gave a listless reply, and Sakura answered with a soft sound before leaning back against Nirei, his tail idly stroking Nirei's back.
In the middle of the night, half-asleep, Suo rolled over and his ankle brushed against something warm. He groggily opened his eyes. By the dim streetlight filtering through the window, he saw that Nirei had somehow jumped onto the bed and was curled up by his feet, trembling slightly.
Suo's drowsiness faded. He scooped Nirei up from the foot of the bed. "Nire-kun?" The little dog whimpered in response. Usually, when Suo called his name, he'd wag his tail happily, but now his tail was tucked tightly between his legs, his whole body shrunk back into that little ball of fluff from their first meeting.
Suo quickly tucked him under the covers and looked for Sakura. Even a sliver of streetlight was enough to catch the gleam of a cat's eyes.
"Sakura-kun, do you want to come up too?"
The cat didn't move.
"Sakura-kun... Nire-kun really needs you." Suo cleverly changed tactics. He lifted the blanket to show Sakura the trembling little dog curled up inside. The black-and-white kitten sat up, his gaze slowly moving from Suo's face to the quivering golden ball under the covers.
Another flash of lightning outside, followed by thunder. Nirei let out a barely audible whimper and pressed himself closer to Suo.
Sakura stood up. With a light leap, he landed silently on the blanket. He stood there for a moment, meeting Suo's gaze.
Suo had gradually learned to read his expressions. There was no wariness or suspicion in Sakura's eyes now — more a kind of quiet resolve, and a hint of... helplessness.
Suo gently stroked his head. Sakura didn't pull away.
Nirei let out a small, nasal whine, almost like a complaint. Sakura curled up beside him, wrapping his black-and-white body into a half-circle, fitting the trembling golden ball into the curve of his own body. His chin rested on Nirei's back, and his tail curled around Nirei's front paws.
Suo smiled. He lay back down, pulled the covers up, and turned on his side to face the two small lives that had suddenly appeared in his bed. Nirei had stopped trembling. Sakura's eyes were closed. Just before sleep took him, Suo's awareness was of two warm flames in front of him, beating steadily.
The next morning, Suo was woken up by a flurry of fur. He opened his eyes to find Sakura sitting upright on his chest, looking down at him with an imperious air, his tail lightly brushing Suo's nose. Nirei, fully recovered, was running circles around Suo's head, his tail sweeping across Suo's forehead, nose, and chin — as if giving him a tail wash face.
Suo lifted Sakura off his chest and peeled Nirei off his face. "Good morning." He set them down on the floor, and the cat and dog immediately scampered off to play. Suo looked at the neglected cushion and shook his head with a smile.
By the third night, the weather had finally cleared. The sky was clear, the wind had died down. Thinking the storm had passed, Suo moved the cushion back to its original spot in the living room, added an extra layer of blanket, placed both little ones on it, said goodnight, turned off the light, and went to his bedroom alone.
But before he'd even been lying down for a minute, he heard the rapid patter of paws on the floor — then the foot of the bed dipped as a golden ball of fur jumped over his ankles and walked straight to his side. He circled twice, flopped down, and let out a contented sigh.
Before Suo could react, there was another set of lighter footsteps — then a lighter weight settled on the blanket. Sakura walked up along Suo's leg and stopped at the outer edge of his arm.
Suo lay in the dark, his eyes open, the corners of his mouth curling up despite himself. He didn't turn on the light, didn't say a word — just lifted the corner of the blanket, just as he had on that stormy night. After a moment, he felt Sakura's body slip into the space between the blanket and the sheet, pressing against his arm through his pajamas, warmth seeping slowly through the fabric. Nirei had apparently already fallen asleep, letting out tiny purrs at the foot of the bed.
He stared at the ceiling. "Oh well,"he thought. "Once you start spoiling them, there's no going back."
From then on, an unwritten sleeping arrangement was established at Suo's place: every night, he lay on the outer edge, with Sakura on his right and Nirei curled up at the foot of the bed. Sometimes, when Suo turned over in his sleep, he'd accidentally catch Sakura's tail, earning a short, indignant "mew." Sakura would shift a little, or go find Nirei, but he never actually left the bed.
Occasionally, Suo couldn't sleep. On those nights, he would turn on his side and, by the faint light filtering through the gap in the curtains, watch these two little ones sleep: Nirei slept deeply, his ears twitching occasionally — probably chasing something in his dreams. Sakura was a light sleeper; almost whenever Suo moved, he'd open his eyes, check that everything was all right, and then close them again.
Suo would then recall a story a foreign neighbor had once told him in passing: that cats can actually guard people's dreams... Wrapped in that distant memory, he'd let his eyelids droop, and finally drift slowly into sleep.
As for that cushion, it stayed in the corner of the living room — though Sakura and Nirei never slept on it again, not even once. During the day, the two little ones would occasionally play on it. Sometimes Nirei would run past and step on it. Sometimes Sakura would walk by, lower his head to sniff it, flick his tail, and move on.
After getting these two little ones, Suo's home became much livelier. The biggest change Suo noticed was that, every day when he came home from school, there would be friends waiting for him.
Every afternoon, the moment he pushed open the yard gate, before the sound had even faded, Nirei would already be at the entrance. The little golden Pomeranian would sit there, his front paws restlessly alternating against the floor, his tail wagging so hard his whole body wiggled. The moment Suo bent down to change his shoes, Nirei would start climbing up his knees, letting out quick, tiny whimpers as he did. Suo would always scoop him up, give him a good ruffle, and then set him back down — that was the routine.
As for Sakura, he'd come out to check when he heard the noise, but most of the time, he'd just take one look and walk away. Suo didn't really expect Sakura to join in either — that's just Sakura-kun's nature, he thought with a hint of resignation.
Until one day, Suo came home a little late because he'd had to avoid a strange guy (someone who seemed to be named "Tsugeura Taiga"?). By then, dusk had already spread across half the street. The neighbor, Granny Wang, was sitting at her doorstep picking vegetables. When she saw him coming back, she casually remarked: "Hayato, that calico cat of yours is really something. Every afternoon, he lies on the second-floor railing waiting for you to come home. Today you were late, and he nearly scratched that railing to pieces."
Suo paused mid-step. "Every day?"
"Yep, every single day. He only jumps down from the railing after he sees you. Probably goes to greet you, I reckon."
Suo thanked her and pushed open the gate. As usual, Nirei came running to rub against his ankles. As usual, he bent down to scoop up the little golden ball and ruffle him, then walked into the living room — and saw Sakura coming down the stairs with an air of perfect nonchalance, as if he'd just happened to be passing by.
Suo didn't call him out on it. But the next day after school, he deliberately took a detour one street early and circled around to the row of houses directly across from his own. From that angle, he had an unobstructed view of the second-floor railing.
Sakura was indeed there.
The black-and-white cat sat upright, his tail wrapped around his front paws, his gaze fixed straight on the road Suo took home every day. That focused intensity reminded Suo of the way Sakura had stood protectively in front of Nirei when they first met. But Suo was certain — there was no fear or wariness in that gaze now.
After all, Sakura was simply waiting for him to come home.
Two years passed, neither quickly nor slowly. Suo had grown another few inches. The soft cushion at home had slowly faded in color, its corners marked with a row of tiny bite marks from Nirei. Sakura would occasionally use it to sharpen his claws. But the cushion hadn't been seriously slept on in a long time. After all, every night, there were two warm lumps that belonged on Suo's bed as a matter of course.
Suo had grown used to having his life taken over by them.
The day Suo got hurt, Bankoku-gai had just seen rain.
Gang work, after all, inevitably came with risks. Though he'd learned to disarm an opponent before they could swing a blade, there were always moments when he was caught off guard. His opponent had hidden a short blade in his sleeve. Suo blocked quickly, but a cut still ran across his left palm, blood dripping through his fingers onto the ground. He didn't make a sound. After taking the guy down, he did a rough bandage and headed home.
When he pushed open the door, Nirei was the first to rush over. He wagged his tail twice, then stopped — then let out a series of rapid, high-pitched barks at Suo's wrist. Suo crouched down and hid his left hand behind his back. "It's okay, Nire-kun. Just a scratch."
Nirei wasn't fooled. He circled around Suo once, his ears pinned back and tail drooping, then sat down by Suo's feet and refused to move. Suo sighed and patted his head with his uninjured hand.
When Sakura appeared on the stairs, Suo was trying to pull the first-aid kit out of the cabinet with one hand. He glanced sideways and saw the cat standing on the stair railing, his gaze shifting from Suo's face to the bandaged hand. The cat couldn't help him get the kit, of course. All the cat could do was watch him while he changed the bandages — along with Nirei.
Suo could feel the reproach in that stare.
"I'll be more careful from now on, really."
Sakura still sulked with him for two days. In the mornings, he would walk right across Suo's body as he woke up. But he never once stepped on Suo's injured left hand.
Later, Suo was dozing in a rattan chair, sunlight slanting through the window onto his face. Nirei lay at his feet, and Sakura was on the windowsill, lying on top of Suo's notebook, his tail covering the tip of his nose. Half-asleep, Suo felt something warm and wet touch his right fingertips. He cracked his eyes open and saw that Sakura had somehow jumped onto the armrest of the chair. He lowered his head, gently nuzzled the fingertips resting on the armrest with his nose, then turned and walked away.
Nirei's ears twitched. He opened his eyes, glanced at them, then closed them again. Suo drew the hand that had been nuzzled back and pressed it against his knee. He could still feel a faint, cool, moist sensation on that spot of skin.
He closed his eyes and decided to sleep a little longer. In his dream, he was back two years ago, on that sunny day after the rain. He had been hurrying along the road when he stopped in front of an old cardboard box on the street corner — not yet knowing how the faint whimpers inside would come to fill his life. He simply stopped. And reached out his hand.
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Suo Hayato's house was broken into.
For several days in a row, the kitchen window — which was normally kept locked — had been left open. Things around the house had been moved around to varying degrees. More importantly, Sakura and Nirei had scratches and traces of blood on them.
Suo's house didn't have anything particularly valuable. His teapot and tea leaves, no matter how precious, could always be bought again. If they were stolen, it couldn't be helped. What really worried him were Sakura and Nirei. If the thief found them annoying and decided to hurt them, that would be a real problem. A few scratches and bloodstains today — what about next time?
But he couldn't keep them by his side at all times. Bacchus, ever blunt, said: "If the thief is only after your place, why not leave your cat and dog with me for now?"
Sakura was naturally not thrilled about this.
At first, he thought Suo was just taking him and Nirei to Bacchus's place to visit and play, as usual. It wasn't until he noticed that Suo had basically moved all of their daily belongings over that he realized something was off. The whole cat bared his teeth and clamped onto Suo's clothes, refusing to let go. Nirei followed suit, though his expression was more pleading and anxious.
"It's okay, Sakura-kun, Nire-kun. I just need to deal with the break-in at home."
At that, the kitten and puppy finally let go. But Suo could have sworn he saw something like "guilt" flickering in their eyes. Was he imagining things?
After Sakura and Nirei were settled at Bacchus's place, Suo's house was never broken into again. Understandably — the thief had probably come once, seen there was nothing worth taking, and left. Nobody liked doing thankless work.
So Suo brought Sakura and Nirei back home.
Both of them were unusually clingy. Nirei circled around his feet seven or eight times before finally stopping. Sakura, though still maintaining his usual aloof demeanor, lightly hooked the tip of his tail around Suo's finger when Suo crouched down. Both cat and dog were exceptionally quiet. After eating, they didn't chase each other around as they usually did — they just found the spots closest to Suo and lay down.
They must have been scared by the temporary stay, Suo thought. They'll be fine in a couple of days.
But the next day when he came home, the kitchen window was open again. He stood at the kitchen doorway, staring at the pushed-open window — the lock was intact, with no signs of forced entry. Could it be an inside job? But aside from a cat and a dog, who else was there?
He checked everything in the house: the teapot and teacups were all there, the tea canisters untouched, even the loose change in the drawer was undisturbed. A thief had been there, but nothing had been taken.
He checked Sakura and Nirei again, confirming they had no new injuries, and only then did he feel a little relieved. But something about this felt off. He decided to come home early the next day, instead of at his usual time.
That afternoon, when he pushed open the door, he heard a series of clattering sounds from the kitchen — like something had fallen from a height, followed by a low hiss of "Ow—" and then another voice, flustered: "Don't move, don't move, I've got it—"
Suo stopped in the entryway. He was sure he hadn't misheard — those were human voices. He lightened his steps and walked to the kitchen door, peeking inside. He froze.
Two people stood in the kitchen. One was a black-and-white-haired boy, bent over to pick up a pot lid that had rolled to the floor. The other was a golden-haired boy, frantically trying to wipe splattered brown liquid off the stovetop with a rag. Both of them were wearing old clothes that Suo thought he'd lost.
Whatever was in the pot looked like some kind of paste, giving off an unpleasant burnt smell. On the cutting board lay a few unevenly sliced carrots, and next to them, half a cabbage that had been hacked beyond recognition, with leaves scattered everywhere. The window was open, letting the smoke drift out.
The golden-haired boy looked up — and made direct eye contact with Suo. He froze, and the rag slipped from his hand to the floor.
"...Suo-san," he said.
The black-and-white-haired boy turned around too, meeting Suo's gaze. The three of them stood in the kitchen in silence for two seconds, the only sound being the bubbling of the pot on the stove.
The golden-haired boy swallowed, his voice a little tight. "Um, well... we can explain."
Before he could finish his words, his whole body flickered, as if pulled by something invisible. Suo watched in bewilderment as he shrank back down. His clothes collapsed, and a golden Pomeranian poked its head out from the collar, standing amid the pile of fabric, looking up helplessly at the black-and-white-haired boy.
"Nirei! You can't just leave me here alone—" The black-and-white-haired boy panicked, reaching out toward the little dog on the floor. Suo was about to speak when the little golden dog suddenly popped back into human form with a puff, the clothes filling out again. The golden-haired boy knelt on the floor, face bright red, frantically straightening his clothes.
"You—you did that on purpose just now, didn't you!" The black-and-white-haired boy crouched down and growled at him.
"I didn't! I just got too nervous—" The golden-haired boy covered his face, his voice muffled behind his palms.
Suo leaned against the kitchen doorframe, arms crossed, and quietly watched them for a few seconds. Then he spoke: "So... you two are Sakura-kun and Nire-kun?"
The air in the kitchen froze for a moment. The golden-haired boy peeked through the gap between his fingers with one eye. The black-and-white-haired boy crouched in place, as if petrified. After a long moment, he finally stood up, turned his face away, and muttered: "...Yeah."
The corner of Suo's mouth began to curl up. He said, slowly and deliberately: "So the kitchen window..."
"Because Sakura-san and I don't know how to use the range hood, so we had to open the window for ventilation." The golden-haired boy — Nirei — lowered his hands, his voice growing smaller. "And then Sakura-san said you work hard coming home every day, and we thought we'd make you a meal..."
"And then," the black-and-white-haired boy — Sakura — cut in, his tone stiff, but his ears noticeably red, "and then we found out the gas stove is really hard to use. The flame was too high."
Suo leaned over to look at the mysterious brown-black substance in the pot, then glanced at the vegetable remains on the cutting board. "You've been trying for days."
"Because we never got it right..." Nirei hung his head.
"Today we thought we'd finally got it close," Sakura said, frowning, his tone reluctant. "But the lid fell off by itself."
Suo finally couldn't hold it in — he let out a laugh. He bent down, picked up the pot lid that had rolled to his feet, rinsed it under the tap, then walked over to the stove, put the lid back on, and turned off the flame.
He turned around and looked at the two boys standing in his kitchen — one with messy golden hair, the other with black-and-white hair sticking up, both wearing his long-lost old clothes, with guilty expressions.
"Sakura-kun, Nire-kun," he said. "First, you two, dump whatever's in that pot. Then clean up the kitchen, go find some clean clothes in my wardrobe to change into, and wait for me in the living room."
The golden-haired boy's eyes were already getting wet, his lips drooping like he was about to cry. Sakura stubbornly averted his gaze, but the way his fingers were clutching the hem of his shirt betrayed his nervousness. Suo paused, then couldn't help adding: "...Then I'll cook. You two can watch and learn how I do it. If you want to cook in the future, you can tell me. I'll teach you."
Both of them were stunned. Then the golden-haired boy's tears finally fell. He wiped his face haphazardly, sniffled, and said: "Okay..." Sakura turned his face away, but his bright red ears gave him away.
Later, word spread again: Suo Hayato, the executive of Bankoku-gai, has two friends you absolutely must not mess with.
And some corrected that: They're his family.