When we arrive home, Mom is waiting in the living room, practically bouncing on her toes with impatience.

  The moment Karui walks in, Mom engulfs her in a hug, peppering her with kisses and questions. The warmth returns then – Karui laughing as she complains about the fuss, Mom fussing anyway, Jirou and I standing by grinning.

  We all migrate to the couch, where Karui launches into a slightly more abridged version of her exam tale for Mom's sake. Jirou sits beside me, and I notice he's quieter now, though he smiles at certain moments as Karui speaks.

  I suspect Dad's absence is still on his mind, as it is on mine. Mom's too, perhaps, though she doesn't ask about him at all. Maybe she's given up expecting anything from Dad.

  Eventually, as the night wears on, Karui's eyelids grow heavy. Mom shoos her to bed, declaring that everything else can wait until morning. "You need rest, young lady. Hero work or not, you're still on dish duty tomorrow," Mom teases, and Karui groans in mock agony, trudging off to her room with a final goodnight to each of us.

  She pauses to hug Jirou one more time before disappearing down the hall – clearly still afraid he might vanish by morning.

  I decide to get ready for bed as well, sensing that Mom and Jirou might want a moment.

  I'm exhausted too the day is catching up to me. After washing up, I retreat to my bedroom. It's oddly comforting hearing Jirou's low voice down the hall and Mom's soft responses.

  It reminds me of when I was younger, sneaking in past my bedtime to eavesdrop on the grown-up talks I wasn't supposed to hear.

  I crack my door open just a sliver. The house is mostly dark, but I can see the glow from the kitchen light reflecting off the hallway wall. Mom and Jirou's voices carry in hushed tones. I shouldn't eavesdrop… but I do.

  "…not safe right now," I hear Jirou saying, voice tense. "It's why I came. I wanted to be here, just in case." Mom's reply is too low for me to catch fully. I pick out fragments: "...should tell them? …blindside…" Jirou responds, a bit clearer, "I don't want to scare them. But I might have to warn them soon."

  Warn us about what? I press myself against the doorframe, heart beginning to pound. Mom's voice again: "If Isamu's past… catch up… we can't—" My father's name?

  I hold my breath, straining to hear more. Jirou's tone turns steely, "I won't let anything happen to them. Or to you. I promise."

  There's a long pause. I imagine Mom is wearing that worried frown she gets whenever the topic of Dad comes up – equal parts anger and lingering heartbreak.

  Finally, I hear her quietly ask, "Does Karui know anything?" "No," Jirou answers. "And it's better she doesn't. Not until we know something for sure." Mom sighs. "She idolizes him, you know. Despite everything. If he's in trouble or causing trouble—"

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  "I'll handle it," Jirou interjects firmly.

  My hands have gone cold, sweaty. I feel a mix of fear and confusion swirling in my gut.

  Dad… trouble… not safe. Are we in danger? Is he in danger? I lean too far without thinking, and the floorboard beneath my foot emits a telltale creak. Instantly, the voices hush.

  I jerk back and silently close my door, heart jackhammering. Did they know I was listening? Possibly. But they don't come to check. After a moment, their muted conversation resumes, even quieter than before – I can't make out any more words.

  I crawl into bed. In the darkness, staring at the faint outline of the ceiling, I replay what I heard. Not safe. Warn them. My father's past… Dad was a hero once. If his past is rearing its head, it can't be anything good. I think of Jirou's insistence earlier about contacting him if Dad showed up.

  Of his sudden arrival. Jirou's trying to shield us – that much is obvious. I turn on my side, curling up as a wave of fatigue and worry washes over me.

  As I drift off, one last image flashes in my mind: Jirou standing in the doorway this afternoon, smiling bright and proud. I hug my pillow tightly and shut my eyes, willing myself to believe Jirou's promise: he won't let anything happen to us.

  I can only hope he's right.

  ~~~

  Sunlight spills through my bedroom curtains far too early the next morning. I blink awake, my body protesting – I feel like I only just fell asleep. For a groggy moment, I wonder if yesterday was a dream.

  But the muffled sound of familiar voices down the hall tells me otherwise.

  I roll out of bed and peer at my clock: 7:00 AM. These maniacs are up at dawn? On a morning like this, I'd have expected Karui to sleep in at least a little after her ordeal.

  Curiosity spur me to get dressed and head out to investigate.

  Stepping into the backyard, I'm greeted by the sight of Jirou and Karui in a makeshift sparring stance across from each other. T

  he air is cool and smells of dew on scorched earth – the remnants of Karui's early-morning training from yesterday still evident in blackened patches of dirt.

  Karui's already broken a sweat; she's in athletic shorts and a tank top, hair up in a messy bun. Jirou, meanwhile, looks relaxed in his workout gear, as if this is just a casual morning stretch.

  I hang back by the porch, rubbing sleep from my eyes. Neither of them has noticed me yet – they're too focused.

  Karui lunges forward first. "Don't go easy on me!" she calls, springing into an opening kick aimed at Jirou's ribs. He sidesteps smoothly, one hand coming up to parry. "Wasn't planning on it," he replies. There's a playful note in his voice, but his eyes are sharp.

  They trade a few quick blows hand-to-hand. Jirou's clearly holding back his full speed – I've seen him train with Dad before, and he can be a blur – but he's still giving Karui a run for her money.

  She grits her teeth, blocking a jab and retaliating with a flurry of punches of her own. Jirou laughs as he weaves around most of them. "Not bad! Your form's improved." Karui smirks, sliding back a step. "You haven't seen anything yet."

  In a flash, she flicks her right hand toward Jirou. Something small and metallic glints in the morning sun as it flies at him – one of her metal spheres.

  I hadn't even noticed her grab it from the pouch at her hip. Jirou reacts instantly, swatting the sphere aside with the flat of his hand.

  But as it ricochets away, Karui makes a pinching gesture with her fingers. A concussive crack splits the air – the sphere explodes mid-flight, a controlled burst that sends dust and grass clods spraying. She timed the detonation perfectly after Jirou deflected it.

  Jirou jumps back, arm coming up reflexively to shield his face from the debris. He lands, eyes wide and impressed.

  "Sneaky!" he calls out over the ringing echo of the blast.

  Karui doesn't let up – she's already flinging a playing card next, charged with a faint orange glow.

  She calls this move Flying Bombs, I recall from her training talk. The card hurtles toward Jirou's feet. He darts to the side, narrowly avoiding the small explosion that pops at ground level a split-second later.

  It leaves a scorch mark inches from where he stood.