Chapter Text
The first thing Kuni notices about his new house is the huge number of books. They’re literally everywhere—scattered over the living room table, stacked on the kitchen counter, even on the credenza by the dinner table. There’s a study with shelves full of books at the end of the hall, but somehow the books don’t stay there. Even the hallways have little bookcases!
Naturally, Kuni gets curious. One day, he plops down in front of one of the bookcases and starts pulling out some books from the bottom shelf.
A few of the books have a lot of fancy words on the cover. Kuni can read the titles, but he doesn’t really understand them. Something about philosophy? When he opens one of the books, there are pictures of people who look funny to him. One page has an illustration of two people pointing at each other, next to a page filled with text under the heading, “Contrasting Perspectives: Is it a Clash or a Mirror?”
Kuni tilts his head thoughtfully. Sometimes, he feels like he’s doing that in his mind—arguing with himself. He imagines standing in front of a mirror, pointing out all the things he did wrong, and then feeling a twinge of regret.
He closes the book and picks up another. He doesn’t bother reading the title, but the cover looks like a night sky. When he flips through the pages, there are colorful illustrations of constellations and stories about their origins. He can read the words but doesn’t fully understand them. Just looking through the pictures is fascinating, though.
“Do you like books?” a deep voice suddenly asks from behind him.
Kuni nearly jumps. He spins around and sees Al-Haitham crouching down, his face calm, though there’s a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth.
He doesn’t laugh. Instead, Al-Haitham says, “Did you know some people say books are windows to the world?”
“Why?” Kuni challenges, just to be defiant, even though he actually likes to read. “They’re mostly just a bunch of words.”
“But don’t they make you imagine all kinds of things?” Al-Haitham asks.
That’s true. It’s part of why Kuni likes books. When he reads, he can forget about whatever is bothering him. He likes puzzles for the same reason—they make him focus so he doesn’t have to think about sad things.
Al-Haitham picks up a book from the pile Kuni has pulled out earlier. The title says something about ancient civilization. Opening the book on the floor, Al-Haitham points to a page with an illustration of an ancient structure carved into a mountain.
“Can you imagine living in a place like this?”
Kuni shakes his head, his eyes glued to the picture, utterly fascinated. It almost looks like something from a cartoon he once watched, with strange clothes and buildings that seem both familiar and completely foreign.
Al-Haitham notices his interest and begins to share stories about the civilization depicted in the picture—how people lived in the desert, carving their homes directly into the walls of the desert mountains. He explains how they adapted to the harsh environment, creating cool, shaded spaces that protected them from the blazing sun outside.
He imagines the children playing in the cool shade inside the big structures that make up the whole city. He sees himself there, exploring the ancient streets that lead out from the belly of the mountain so he can look up at the night sky. The twinkling stars form constellations like the ones he just saw in the other book.
And that’s how Kaveh finds them after a while. Kuni doesn’t know how much time has passed, but he can see through the window in the hallway that the sky is turning a soft pink.
He hears Kaveh nagging at Al-Haitham again about being messy with books, and how he sets a bad example for Kuni. Al-Haitham doesn’t tell Kaveh that it was Kuni who pulled out the books. Instead, he simply stands up and gives Kaveh a light peck on the lips, effectively stopping the rant.
“Hey!” Kaveh bristles as a deep blush blooms on his cheeks. “Not in front of Kuni!”
That makes Kuni snort. “Why? I already know you two are disgustingly sweet—”
“Aww, he calls us sweet!”
“I just said disgusting—”
But it’s a lost cause, because Kaveh keeps cooing at him, and even Al-Haitham doesn’t bother to hide his smile.
His chest feels so, so warm it’s almost like drowning in a hot spring.
It’s almost suffocating.
~*~
“Look, this playroom is designed by your Papa,” says Kazuha as he opens the door to a big room in this ridiculously big house.
Kuni feels something like an itch at the way Kazuha mentions Kaveh as his Papa. It’s not that he's wrong, but Kuni still feels weird calling them Papa and Baba. After all, deep down there’s still doubt that he can stay with them forever.
So instead, Kuni chooses to admire the playroom. The aunties who adopted Kazuha must be very rich. This playroom alone is almost as big as Al-Haitham’s library—the biggest room in their house. In one corner, there’s something shaped like a big ship with a wide opening in its belly that reveals a cozy reading nook. There are stairs leading to its ‘deck’. Kazuha beckons him to climb, so Kuni does.
On the deck, there’s a fluffy carpet with pillows and a few chests. Kazuha opens one, and Kuni sees different kinds of snacks.
“You’re spoiled, aren’t you?” Kuni blurts out before he can stop himself—and only realizing a second later that it’s maybe kinda rude.
But Kazuha just laughs. “I am, aren’t I?” He agrees easily.
Kuni bristles. When he said something like this to other kids before, they would usually scowl or call him mean, so he doesn’t quite know how to deal with Kazuha’s warm smile and warm eyes.
He only knows how to insult, so. “You’re either an airhead or just proud to be a spoiled kid.”
“Why wouldn’t I be proud when both my moms love me?”
That is such an innocent question, but it stabs Kuni’s chest like a knife. He looks away and try not to remember his aunt—
“Ah, sorry if I made you sad,” Kazuha says again when he notices the shift in mood. “But look, you have a great Papa! You can see the entire room from here.”
Kuni’s eyes follow as Kazuha gestures to the rest of the room. From up here, he can see the walls painted in shades of blue—one side adorned with rolling waves, the other with a sky dotted with fluffy clouds. It’s clear what the theme of the room is: a ship sailing on the ocean. Even the carpet covering the floor is a soft seafoam blue, just like the ones he’s seen in cartoons. The room is filled with vibrant colors that spark his imagination, but not so much that it feels overwhelming or hurts his eyes.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” Kazuha says again when Kuni continues to silently take it all in, his gaze shifting from a stack of pillows shaped like fish and coral in one corner, to the white, low bookcases in another, standing on a carpet decorated with little fish prints. “Mama Beidou told me that Mama Ningguang commissioned uncle Kaveh to design this room not long after we moved here.”
Kuni simply nods, admiring the room. He knows, from listening in to his guardians talking in the house, that Kaveh’s job is to design and build houses. Even the house Kuni is living in now was supposedly designed by Kaveh.
“Feel free to explore, since your Papa made this!”
“Papa…” Kuni murmurs, testing the word on his tongue.
He’s never had a Papa, even before. There were only his Okaachan and Mama Ei. Yes, there were people trying to be Papa for him—those who had eventually returned him to Surasthana. They were always so insistent he should call them with some variations of mother and father.
Kaveh and Al-Haitham only mentioned it once, in passing. ‘If you want to, I can be Papa, and he’s Baba,’ Kaveh told him then, but neither Kaveh nor Al-Haitham ever admonished Kuni when he chose to call them by name instead.
Kuni takes a liking to the reading nook in the belly of the ship in Kazuha’s playroom. Later that evening, when Kaveh picks him up and asks him how his day went, Kuni tells him about how nice it is to have a little quiet space to read, and that maybe, Kaveh is a little cool for making something like that in Kazuha’s playroom
~*~
There is a new, cozy nook between the living and dining room underneath the stairs. It reminds Kuni of the ancient structure carved into the desert mountain from the book Al-Haitham showed him the other day. Kuni knows this nook has always been here, but Kaveh and Al-Haitham have been working on decorating it for almost a week after Kuni told Kaveh that he liked the reading space in Kazuha’s place.
This one may not be as big and elaborate as Kazuha’s, but this nook feels as though it was made just for Kuni, like a hidden world waiting for him to discover. The walls are lined with woods, and there are small, built-in shelves filled with children’s books—fairy tales and folktales with colorful covers, and some easy-to-read books on science, animals, and history. They’re nothing like the big, complicated books he sometimes sees lying around the house, the ones filled with small, serious words that make his head spin.
Kuni has started slipping into this nook when he feels like being around people, but doesn’t quite want to talk to anyone. It’s his little secret hideaway, a place where he can sit and let his thoughts wander without feeling alone. There’s a soft, cushiony seat that he can curl up on, and he loves the way the semi-transparent curtains can be pulled shut around him. The curtains let in just enough light so he can still see, but they blur the outside, giving him a sense of privacy. Behind the curtain, he hears the gentle murmur of voices and clinking of dishes, the small sounds of life that make him feel safe without drawing him out of his shell.
Kuni doesn’t remember much of his early days in Surasthana, but he remembers the time he started feeling some semblance of peace—when he can be alone without feeling alone. Nahida used to give him this kind of space, allowing him to choose at his own pace. Like now, in this house, with Kaveh and Al-Haitham, he can choose to be alone, but he knows once he leaves this little nook, there will be someone to greet him.
“Ah, Kuni! Are you hungry?” Kaveh says as soon as he steps out of his hiding place.
Kaveh is setting a tray of something fresh from the oven. It smells amazing, enough to attract Kuni out of his own little world. The smell is so hauntingly familiar that Kuni can’t help but be curious.
On the dining table sits Al-Haitham, reading yet another one of those thick books. He reaches out to grab something from the tray Kaveh just placed on the table, but Kaveh smacks his hand away.
“Let Kuni have it first,” he reprimands. “You’re such a bad example.”
The corners of Al-Haitham’s lips twitch downward a little, and Kuni snorts at that.
It’s only after he climbs the dining chair that Kuni sees them—the cookies, small, round, and light brown. They look soft and a little powdery, with tiny cracks on top.
“They’re Kinako cookies,” Kaveh says when Kuni keeps staring. “I thought I’d made something from your home country that you might like. Go on, try it.”
Slowly, Kuni takes a cookie. It feels powdery under his touch, and when he takes a bite, the familiar soft texture and rich, nutty flavor melts in his mouth.
He knows this taste.
Long, long ago, when his Okaachan was still around, she’d bake this cookie for him.
“How is it?” Kaveh asks. There’s a hint of nervousness in his voice. “Do you like it?”
Kuni nods, warmth spreading through his chest as the cookie melts in his mouth. Without looking up, he mumbles softly, “Thank you, Papa.”
Before Kaveh can respond, Kuni quickly grabs a napkin, snatches a handful of cookies, wraps them up, and bolts into the reading nook.
Once he’s safely behind the sheer curtains, Kuni faintly hears Kaveh exclaim to Al-Haitham, “Did you hear that? He just called me Papa!”
His cheeks feel like they’re on fire. The warmth in his chest rises, clogging his throat and stinging behind his eyes.
As he stuffs the soft, buttery cookies into his mouth, Kuni is reminded of a time when things were warm and happy. He remembers his mother’s voice calling out his name in that gentle voice. And even as he munches on the cookies, Kuni ignores the tears quietly slipping down his cheeks.
Minutes later, that’s how Kazuha finds him.
Kuni only remembers that Kazuha was coming today when he sees his silhouette behind the sheer curtains, hiding him from the rest of the world.
He waits, listening, until Kaveh’s heavier footsteps fade away. Then Kazuha’s soft voice calls out, “Kuni? Can I come in?”
The little nook isn’t very big, so all Kuni has to do is stretch out from where he’s curled up and pull the curtain open just a bit. Kazuha takes it as a yes and climbs into the seat that fills most of the nook, holding a jar of cookies.
The kinako cookies. Kaveh must have put them in the jar and handed them to Kazuha to share.
“Your Papa said he baked this,” Kazuha says with a wide smile. “That’s cool! Both my moms don’t really like to bake. You’re so lucky, Kuni.”
Kuni watches as Kazuha opens the lid and takes out a cookie to taste. He can see the exact moment the buttery, nutty flavor melts in Kazuha’s mouth, because his red eyes are literally sparkling.
“Ah,” Kazuha murmurs after savoring the cookie. “I had this before… in Inazuma.”
“Me too,” Kuni murmurs weakly.
He doesn’t expect Kazuha to offer the cookie by pressing one against his mouth. Kuni looks up, wide-eyed, and Kazuha simply smiles.
So he slowly parts his lips and takes a bite.
It still tastes like the ones Okaachan used to bake, so Kuni can’t help it when his eyes start tearing up again.
Kazuha fumbles in panic. Maybe he thinks Kuni doesn’t like the cookie because he tries to pull it away, but Kuni grabs Kazuha’s wrist with both hands to keep it in place and takes the rest of the cookie with his mouth. He chews and chews, ignoring the constant stream of tears down his cheeks, until Kazuha grabs a few sheets of tissue from the nearby box and gently dabbed at Kuni’s face.
“Why are you crying? You don’t like it?”
Kuni shakes his head.
“So you like it?”
This time, Kuni takes a moment to finish chewing and swallowing the cookie, before nodding slowly.
Then, in an almost whisper, he finally says, “Kaachan used to make these.”
“Oh.”
There’s an understanding in Kazuha’s voice, and Kuni is reminded that while on the surface Kazuha seems to have an easy life as a spoiled child, they do have something in common: both of them were adopted out of their home countries, probably because no one back home wanted them.
Before Kuni can say more, though, Kazuha asks, “Can I give you a hug?”
Kuni doesn’t know what kind of face he’s making, but Kazuha looks caught somewhere between amused and nervous. In a gentler tone, Kazuha tries again, “Mama Beidou says if you feel sad, sometimes you just need to hug it out.”
Kuni isn’t so sure. The only time hugs ever felt comforting was before the accident that took his mother and turned everything upside down. Maybe Nahida’s hugs came close—they were soft and kind—but Nahida quickly realized he wasn’t much of a hugger and respected that. The other families who tried to adopt him all gave him hugs, but those never felt right. They were awkward at best, and sometimes they just felt like the families were trying to force him to accept the hug.
But Kazuha isn’t forcing him. He’s asking, arms open like an invitation, not a demand. And besides, Kazuha isn’t much bigger than him, so it doesn’t feel as overwhelming.
So Kuni finally nods. When Kazuha slowly wraps his arms around him, Kuni takes a moment to adjust and feel, before eventually melting into the hug.
It feels warm.
~*~
Once upon a time, little Kuni lived happily with his mother and her twin sister. Okaachan was always gentle, while Mama Ei was a little more stern. But still, Mama Ei was always nice to Kuni. She taught him many things when Okaachan was busy, and then when Okaachan came home to find them together, she would smile so warmly at both of them.
Kuni never had a father, but he didn’t care. Okaachan and Mama Ei were enough. He loved them both so very dearly, and wished that one day, he would grow up into a man who could protect them both and make them happy.
That was until that accident. It was Kuni’s fault. Kuni’s marbles were falling out of his pocket, so he hurried to grab them. He didn’t see where he was going. He didn’t realize he was running towards a busy street. And when he eventually heard the loud honks of the car, it was too late—
Kuni was pushed hard a moment before a loud crash was heard.
When he opened his eyes, his vision was blurry and his body was aching all over. Kuni couldn’t see it clearly, but there was red on the streets, splattered on the asphalt by his hand, and then everything went black.
*
In a dark room, Kuni saw someone sitting on the floor with their back to him. The closer he walked, the clearer they became, until he realized they looked just like his mother.
Her shoulders were shaking.
“Kaachan!” Kuni ran to her, dropping to his knees and hugging her from behind. “Kaachan, I’m sorry–”
But suddenly, a hand grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back. He gasped, startled, and looked up. The eyes staring at him weren’t the soft purple of his mother’s. They were bright, cold, and angry—electric violet, blazing like lightning.
“Makoto is gone!!” she shouted, her voice shaking like she was about to cry. It was so loud and sharp, nothing like Mama Ei’s usual gentle tone.
Kuni landed on the floor, staring up at her in fear. She looked so angry, sparks of something he didn’t understand flashing in her eyes.
When she spoke again, her voice was quieter but shaking even more. “She suffered so much because she wanted to keep you, and now she’s gone because of you! If only—if only you had never been born —”
A loud gasp broke through the air. Kuni didn’t know if it came from him or Mama Ei, but suddenly her hand flew to her mouth. Her wide, wild eyes stared at him like she wasn’t really seeing him anymore.
“Mama Ei,” Kuni started weakly, trying to crawl his way closer to her, but she looked away from him. “Mama Ei, I’m sorry… Kaachan— ”
“I’m not your Mama,” said Mama Ei, her voice trembling with tears yet her words pierced through Kuni. “I can’t be your Mama, Kuni.”
‘No… Mama–’
“I’m sorry. I can’t love you anymore.”
‘No, I’m sorry…’
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—’
*
Kuni wakes up with a loud gasp, his chest heaving and his head pounding. For a moment, he doesn’t remember where he is, or when this is—his mind still reeling from seeing a memory he’s tried so hard to leave behind in Inazuma.
He feels like there are voices calling out to him, but it sounds so far away, covered by the sound of his heart hammering against his chest and it’s hard to breathe –
“Kuni!!”
There are hands cradling his face, warm and steady, pulling him back to reality. Kuni blinks, his tears making everything blurry, but he can just make out a worried face leaning close. Gentle thumbs swipe across his cheeks, brushing away tears he hadn’t even realized were there.
Slowly, his vision clears, and in the dim, moonlit room, Kaveh’s face comes into focus. His brows are furrowed in concern, but his eyes—
His eyes are gentle, just like how his mother used to look at him, and Kuni bursts into tears once more.
“Kuni? Shh… it’s okay, you’re okay,” Kaveh says softly.
Kuni feels Kaveh hesitate before his arms are carefully wrapped around him. They’re loose enough that Kuni could easily pull away if he wanted to, but—
Slowly, Kuni raises his arms to grip the material of Kaveh’s sleep shirt at his sides.
The arms around him tighten, and Kaveh whispers into his hair, “It’s okay… I’m here.”
~*~
For a time, Kuni wants to believe that things are really okay, that he’s gonna be okay, but—
‘I can’t love you anymore.’
Those words keep repeating in his head. Over and over and over…
He is not supposed to be loved.
‘She died because of you.’
His sins are too great to be loved.
‘If only you had never been born–’
Those were Mama Ei’s words, but Kuni has always wondered… with the way Mama Ei and Okaachan were always in tune with one another, would Okaachan feel that way too?
If he hadn’t been born, Okaachan would still have been alive.
Kuni doesn’t deserve to be loved.
☂️ ➺ 🏛️
Kuni seems to have regressed, and Kaveh can’t figure out why. He thought things were going well—that Kuni was adjusting to his new life.
And yet.
“Something must have triggered his trauma,” Kaveh says, pacing in circles across their bedroom floor while Al-Haitham leans against the headboard, watching him. “Was it something we said? Something I did wrong?”
“Kaveh, calm down,” Al-Haitham says evenly. When Kaveh walks within arm’s reach, Al-Haitham catches his wrist and gently pulls him onto his lap, sideways. “Take a deep breath.”
Kaveh tries, counting to five as he breathes in, and another five when he exhales. He repeats it until the jittery feeling in his chest starts to ease. A hand rubs slow, soothing circles on his back, and without thinking, Kaveh lets his head rest on Al-Haitham’s shoulder.
“That night—when Kuni had the nightmare—wasn’t it after I baked him those cookies?” Kaveh murmurs, nervously biting his thumbnail. “Do you think they brought back bad memories?”
Al-Haitham doesn’t immediately answer. Instead, he gently pulls Kaveh’s hand away, pries his fingers open, and interlaces their hands together. Just like that, the suffocating worry in Kaveh’s chest gives way to a quiet warmth that always comes with Al-Haitham’s presence.
“Kuni loves those cookies,” Al-Haitham finally says.
“But he was crying,” Kaveh counters softly.
“Yes, because he loves them so much. That’s what Kazuha says Kuni told him.”
Kaveh leans back just enough to study Al-Haitham’s face, questions forming in his mind—like when Al-Haitham even spoke to Kazuha—but Al-Haitham continues.
“Whatever memory the cookies brought back must be something he misses dearly, not something traumatic. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have eaten them.”
And Kuni did eat them. He even thanked Kaveh and called him Papa for the first time because of them. Al-Haitham has a point, but still...
“If it reminded him of his mother…” Kaveh trails off, his voice cracking faintly.
“Then let’s talk to Nahida and book an appointment with his therapist,” Al-Haitham says calmly, his hand squeezing Kaveh’s in reassurance.
*
Before they could make it to the appointment, Kuni got worse.
Before, he had simply withdrawn into his shell—spending all his time in his room, refusing to see even Kazuha, and avoiding his favorite nook under the stairs. But today, he started lashing out. It reminded Kaveh of the time before they brought him home, as if Kuni desperately wanted them to hate him. It felt like every time things started to go well, Kuni would sabotage himself, trying to make them send him back to Surasthana.
It made Kaveh wonder—was it like this with the other families who tried to adopt him? But Kaveh doesn’t believe it’s just a “test” Kuni is putting them through. When he looks at the boy, Kaveh sees genuine fear and despair far too heavy for a child so young.
“Kuni,” Kaveh says gently, lowering himself to kneel on the floor a few feet away. Kuni sits huddled in the corner, with scattered building blocks surrounding him. Kaveh’s voice softens further. “Will you talk to me?”
“Leave me alone,” Kuni snaps, his voice sharp and defensive, like an angry, feral cat.
Or maybe, Kaveh thinks, it’s more fitting to say he looks like a scared, abandoned kitten.
He recalls their phone call with Nahida. What stands out most from that conversation is how Kuni’s aunt—his only guardian at the time—had said, “I’m sorry, I can’t love him anymore. I think it’s better to let him find someone who can love and care for him properly.”
According to Nahida, Kuni’s aunt trusted her personally, which is why Kuni had been sent to Sumeru. She also mentioned that before entrusting Kuni to Surasthana, his aunt had said the same thing to him directly.
How could a five-year-old, already grieving the loss of his mother, bear hearing that their only remaining guardian couldn’t love them anymore?
Kaveh’s heart clenches at the thought.
“Kuni, dear,” Kaveh tries again, his tone soothing as he scoots closer. “What is it that you’re so afraid of—”
“Nothing!!!” Kuni yells, and before Kaveh can react, something flies through the air toward him.
Kaveh freezes a second too late, and the object—a building block—strikes his temple. A sharp sting follows, and then he feels it: thick, warm liquid trickling down his face, over his eye, forcing him to squeeze it shut.
Ah. Blood.
“Is everything okay—”
When Kaveh turns toward the door, Al-Haitham freezes in the doorway, eyes wide. In the next moment, he’s already kneeling in front of Kaveh, trembling hands raised to cup his face.
“You’re bleeding,” Al-Haitham says, his voice grave. Kaveh reaches out blindly to Al-Haitham’s arm and tries to give it a reassuring squeeze, but it doesn’t seem to help. He feels Al-Haitham gently helping him up, and Kaveh takes the chance to whisper, “I’m fine. It shouldn’t be too bad.”
“We’ll see after I clean it up.”
Before they leave the room, Kaveh hears a soft whimper. He turns halfway to see Kuni standing there, looking like a deer caught in headlights—fear and guilt flooding his face all at once.
Kaveh tries to smile and says, “It’s fine, Kuni. I’m okay.”
“It’s not fine and you’re not okay,” Al-Haitham interjects, his voice cold—so cold that even Kaveh flinches. He hasn’t heard that tone from Al-Haitham in a while. Before Kaveh can even try to counter it, Al-Haitham turns to Kuni and commands, “Stay here and reflect.”
“Haitham—”
But Al-Haitham doesn’t listen and pulls him out of the room.
🏛️ ➺ ☂️
The sound of the door closing makes Kuni flinch. Though it’s just a soft click, it feels so loud, ringing in his ears and echoing in his chest. The room is too quiet now, and the silence feels heavy, like it’s pressing down on him.
Kuni stares at the door, frozen in place as dread and guilt begin to fill the hollow in his chest.
Kuni didn’t mean to hurt Kaveh. He just wanted to scare him a little, so that Kaveh would leave him alone. He didn’t think the block he threw would actually hit.
The way blood trickled down Kaveh’s face filled Kuni with ice cold dread.
He remembers the day of the accident, how there were red splatters around the asphalts.
A whimper escapes Kuni before he can stop it, and he clamps a hand over his mouth. His throat tightens painfully, and the burning behind his eyes grows hotter.
What have I done? The thought loops in his head, over and over.
He remembers Mama Ei’s eyes afterwards—stormy and cold at the same time.
Al-Haitham’s eyes were just like that when he looked at Kuni.
Between the two of them, Kaveh has always been the more expressive one, while Al-Haitham’s face usually stays calm and neutral, except for those rare, soft smiles he reserves for Kaveh–or sometimes, for Kuni whenever he sees him getting excited over a book. But the way Al-Haitham looked at him just now…
‘I can’t love you anymore,’ Mama Ei’s words ring in his head.
What if it’s the same now? What if Kaveh and Al-Haitham can no longer love him after this?
‘But isn’t this what you want?’ a voice whispers in Kuni’s head. ‘Don’t you want them to hate you and send you back to the orphanage? Isn’t it better to be alone at Surasthana because you don’t deserve to be loved?’
Kuni hasn’t been here long—the trial period isn’t even over yet. Leaving should be easy, just like it was with the other families who tried to adopt him. And yet—
He remembers the times Kaveh visited the orphanage, how he smiled so openly while trying to learn about him, and how Al-Haitham, though quieter, watched carefully to see how Kuni reacted to different toys or puzzles. Kuni remembers how Kaveh always seemed eager to discover his likes and dislikes, even when Kuni didn’t offer much, and how Al-Haitham didn’t just read books to him but actually asked for his thoughts and treated his opinions as if they mattered—even though he’s just a kid.
He thinks of the cozy reading nook Kaveh designed and built with Al-Haitham just for him. How he’d sit there quietly with a book while listening to them debate politics or philosophies in the kitchen as they made dinner. Later, the delicious smell of curry would fill the air, and they’d all sit together, the banter continuing with laughter, even when Kuni made an offhand comment about their bickering.
In this house, Kuni never had to pretend to be a perfect, obedient child to earn praise. They didn’t try to mold him into some ideal version of himself. They didn’t act like they were ‘rescuing’ him. Kaveh and Al-Haitham see him as himself, not as a project to fix or a charity case to save.
And now Kuni realizes, it’s not about whether he deserves to be loved—because he already loves being here. The warmth in this house feels suffocating at times, weighed down by his guilt, but the thought of leaving?
That hurts even more.
But is it too late to realize this now?
He was so scared of getting attached, so afraid of the guilt clawing at his chest, that he tried to push them away. He thought it would be easier if he made them give up on him first, just like the other families. But this time, he made a grave mistake—he hurt Kaveh. And now Al-Haitham is angry at him.
Just like Mama Ei was...
The thought twists painfully in his chest, and Kuni takes a shuddering breath. He feels small, smaller than he ever has, and curls up tightly on himself. His throat burns, and he presses his forehead against his knees, trying to block out the noise, the guilt, the ache.
All he can think is how he ruined everything. For the first time, he realizes that he might have a place where he can belong—only after he ruined it all.
There’s nothing he can really do now, so when tears start slipping down his face, Kuni doesn’t even bother wiping them off.
*
It feels like an eternity before the door to his room creaks open. Slowly, Kuni lifts his face just enough to see Al-Haitham slipping inside.
There is no Kaveh.
Cold dread settles in his stomach again, heavy and suffocating. Kuni swallows hard and steels himself as Al-Haitham approaches, his steps measured and quiet. When Kuni looks up, Al-Haitham’s face is back to its usual neutral, hard-to-read expression.
Kuni feels the air in the room grow heavier as Al-Haitham stops a short distance away and lowers himself to the floor. He sits cross-legged in front of Kuni, just like he does when they read books together. But this time, there’s no book, only silence—the kind that makes Kuni almost hold his breath.
“Alright, let’s talk,” Al-Haitham says.
Kuni lets out another shuddering breath. “What about Pa–Kaveh?”
Al-Haitham gives him an assessing look before finally answering, “He’s fine, just a little dizzy, so I told him to get some rest.”
“...there was a lot of blood,” Kuni mutters quietly, flinching when Al-Haitham takes a deep breath.
But Al-Haitham’s voice remains calm and neutral. “Yes, because the temple has many blood vessels close to the surface, so even a small cut bleeds a lot. But the cut itself isn’t very deep. He’ll be fine.”
That makes Kuni feel only a little better.
“Now,” Al-Haitham begins, his tone steady, though Kuni hugs his knees closer to his chest. “Can you tell me why you threw that block at him?”
Kuni clamps his mouth shut. Even if he wanted to, he doesn’t know how to explain the confusing swirl of feelings weighing down his chest—feelings he doesn’t even fully understand himself.
When the silence stretches, Al-Haitham shifts slightly closer, lowering his hands palm-up on the floor between them. His voice is patient, but firm. “Okay. Let’s play a game, then. I will say something about you. If I’m wrong, you can hit me. But if I’m right, I get to do whatever I want. There’s only one rule—you have to be honest, because I’ll know if you lie.”
Kuni stares up at Al-Haitham, unsure, but eventually, he nods.
“You wanted to hurt Kaveh.”
Kuni reaches out and hits Al-Haitham’s upturned palm.
“You were scared of something.”
Kuni hesitates, his hand wavering midair, but then he decides to hit anyway.
Al-Haitham isn’t fooled. “You’re lying. You wanted us to hate you.”
Tears burn behind Kuni’s eyes, and a frustrated noise bubbles in his throat. He gives another weak hit, but this time, Al-Haitham’s fingers curl, gently capturing his small fist.
“You’re scared to get attached,” Al-Haitham says softly, his voice steady but unwavering. “You don’t think you deserve this.”
Kuni’s fist clenches tighter in Al-Haitham’s hold as a sob escapes his lips.
“You think you don’t deserve to be loved.”
‘I can’t love you anymore,’ Mama Ei’s words echo cruelly in his mind, like a drumbeat he can’t silence.
If someone who had cared for him alongside his mother for the first five years of his life could stop loving him because of the great sin of causing his mother’s death, doesn’t that mean he doesn’t deserve love at all?
When Kuni’s shoulders begin to shake with sobs, Al-Haitham’s thumb gently caresses his small fist held tightly in his grasp. “But that’s where you’re wrong, Kuni,” Al-Haitham says softly. “You deserve to be loved, and you are allowed to love. Don’t you already love Kaveh?”
A sob wracks through Kuni, but he nods—because it’s true. He already loves Kaveh. He loves Al-Haitham too, just as much as he loves being here, feeling like he finally has a place to belong. But—
“Do you remember what your aunt told you before leaving you with Nahida?”
How could he forget?
“She… she said…” A choked sob escapes him. “That she couldn’t love me anymore—”
“And that she thought it would be better to let you find someone who could love and care for you properly,” Al-Haitham finishes for him.
Kuni’s head snaps up, his wide, teary eyes locking on Al-Haitham. His memory of that day had always been blurry, but now he recalls faint echoes of those words.
“See?” Al-Haitham says, his voice steady. “Even if your aunt couldn’t, she believed there would be someone to love you. That means you deserve it.”
And like a dam breaking, Kuni bursts into tears. It all feels overwhelming: the hurt, the confusion, the guilt. Everything just spills out of him in each sob wrecking his body. And through all this, Al-Haitham holds his hand, silent and patient, like a steady anchor as Kuni battles his own emotions.
Then, almost like a repeat of this afternoon, Kuni’s door is thrown open, followed by a frantic, “Is everything okay???”
And there, in the doorway, stands Kaveh. A bandage is wrapped over his right temple, reminding Kuni of his mistake, and it makes him cry harder.
Kaveh rushes over to the corner where Kuni sits with Al-Haitham still holding his hand and immediately kneels down. A hand gently rubs circles on Kuni’s back.
“I’m sorry,” Kuni manages between sobs. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Ssshh, it’s okay,” Kaveh’s voice is soft in his ear, his hand continuing to soothe him. “I know.”
“Kuni,” Al-Haitham calls again. Though his voice is firm, there’s a gentleness to it. “Do you want to stay with us?”
Kuni can only nod several times to make his point, his throat tight and making it harder to speak.
Behind his blurry eyes, Kuni sees Kaveh and Al-Haitham exchange a glance. This time, Kaveh asks, “Can we hug you?”
Kuni turns the fist in Al-Haitham’s hold to properly hold his hand, using his free hand to cling to Kaveh’s shirt. Then, he nods weakly with a soft “Yes.”
Slowly, their arms wrap around Kuni’s small frame, and he closes his eyes, sobbing into someone’s chest—he’s not sure whose, as they’re all pressed so closely together. It feels a little suffocating—partly from the guilt and partly from the crying that makes his chest tighten and his breathing uneven—but—
“We’re family now, Kuni,” Al-Haitham says softly.
—but Kuni hasn’t felt this warm in a very, very long time.
~*~
A lot has happened since that day. They went through the process of officiating his adoption, sealing the fact that Kuni was now, legally and irrevocably, Kaveh and Al-Haitham’s son. Along the way, they took Kuni to therapy, with regular sessions gradually helping to ease the weight of his nightmares about the accident that took his mother and Mama Ei’s haunting words, until both began to fade, and the sessions became less frequent.
One day, Nahida comes to visit them at their house to celebrate the official adoption with a letter in hand.
“Ei asked me to give this to you,” she gently says to Kuni, after exchanging a glance with Kaveh and Al-Haitham. “But she also said you don’t have to read it if you don’t want to.”
Kuni stares at the plain white envelope in Nahida’s hand, trepidation knotting in his stomach as if something dangerous might leap out. Before the feeling can settle, a warm hand rests on his head, and another squeezes his shoulder gently. Kuni instinctively reaches up to grab the sleeve of the hand on his shoulder.
Nahida smiles softly in understanding. Shifting her gaze upward, she adds, “Ei also said Kuni’s parents can read the letter on his behalf, if that’s what you prefer.”
A moment of silence passes as Kaveh and Al-Haitham exchange a look. Kuni takes a deep breath, his voice barely above a whisper. “Papa or Baba can read it to me.”
The hand on his head gives a reassuring pat before reaching for the letter.
It’s Al-Haitham.
The room falls into silence as Al-Haitham’s eyes move steadily across the letter. Kaveh pulls Kuni a little closer, his grip tightening slightly on his shoulder. Kuni can tell Kaveh is nervous too—though he also looks like he’d be ready to throw hands if the letter said something cruel.
“She said congratulations and that she’s glad to hear you’ve found a loving home,” Al-Haitham says slowly, his tone measured and neutral. Kuni feels Kaveh’s fingers twitching.
“And,” Al-Haitham continues, “that she’s sorry she couldn’t be the one to give it to you, but she hopes you’ll be happy with us.”
Kaveh lets out a small cough that suspiciously sounds like a scoff. “Is that all?”
Al-Haitham leans closer, briefly squeezing Kaveh’s shoulder before moving his hand to gently pat Kuni’s head. His voice softens as he adds, “She also said it wasn’t your fault, and that she’s sorry for ever saying otherwise.”
There are tears prickling at Kuni’s eyes, but he blinks them back. He’s heard those words a number of times now—from Nahida, the families who wanted to try to save him, from Kaveh and Al-Haitham, and even the therapist he’s seeing. He’s heard it so often that at one point, those words seem to lose meaning—as if they were a lie. Even now, with Kaveh and Al-Haitham by his side, he’s still learning to believe them.
Hearing those very same words from Mama Ei isn’t as relieving as Kuni thought it would be.
Because—now Mama Ei said it wasn’t his fault? That she’s sorry?
Kuni’s shoulders shake, unsure if he’s crying or laughing. He can feel the tightness in his chest, the confusion mixing with the hurt. Kaveh is pulling him closer, pressing soft lips against his hair. From his other side, Al-Haitham says, “It’s okay to be upset. You don’t have to forgive her or read her letter.”
Kuni takes a deep breath. Suddenly, it feels like he has to decide whether to forgive Mama Ei and it doesn't feel right.
As if reading his mind, Kaveh says, "You also don't have to think about it at all."
Slowly, Kuni lets out a shuddering breath and nods, trying to calm himself. “Okay.”
“Do you want us to keep the letter?”
This time, it takes a while, but Kuni eventually nods again. “It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.”
Because what matters is here now, the warmth of this family he has finally found with the people who have shown him that he deserves to be loved, and whom he loves back just as much.
The suffocating feeling in his chest may take time to fully disappear, but right now, having his Papa and Baba is enough—more than enough—to take the first step forward.
~*~
“Kuni, Kazuha’s at the door for you!” Kaveh calls out.
Kuni hurries out of his room, vibrating with nervous energy. After all, this will be his first day of school after being homeschooled ever since he arrived in Sumeru years ago.
There were some more back and forth trips to therapy sessions, but finally they deemed Kuni ready to go to school. At Nahida’s recommendation (and because Kazuha goes to the same place, so he’ll at least have a friend), Kuni is enrolled in the primary school of the famous Sumeru Akademiya.
Now, looking at how fidgety Kaveh is as he hands him his lunchbox, and how Al-Haitham keeps glancing at him from the corner of his eye, it seems like they’re more nervous than he is.
“I’ll be fine,” Kuni says, a bit grumpily out of embarrassment for these two worrywarts. He’s starting to think it was a good decision to take Auntie Beidou up on her offer to drive him to school with Kazuha.
“Of course you will,” Kaveh echoes, though it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself. “Well, don’t keep them waiting.”
At the front door, Kazuha waves at him cheerfully, so Kuni hurries to his friend, followed by Kaveh and Al-Haitham, who are seeing him to the door.
Before stepping outside, Kuni turns back to face Kaveh and Al-Haitham, meeting their eyes. “See you later… Papa, Baba,” he says softly.
Before they can respond, he steps forward, wrapping his small arms around both of their waists in a quick, tight hug. Then, as if embarrassed by his own gesture, he swiftly turns away, tugging the brim of his Akademiya hat down to hide his face. Beside him, Kazuha chuckles lightly, the sound teasing but warm.
“They’re beaming at you,” Kazuha says as they walk to the waiting car.
Kuni just snorts. “I know. I can feel it at the back of my head.”
“You’re beaming too.”
This time, Kuni doesn’t bother denying.
“I know.”
~fin.