The cartoon on the TV had ended, replaced by a bland news segment discussing traffic conditions and local weather. Raito barely noticed. He sat on the couch, Emi nestled calmly in his arms, her small fingers gripping the sleeve of his shirt as she finished her bottle.
The moment of quiet didn't last long.
His phone buzzed on the table.
He picked it up lazily, thumbed the screen, and answered with a curt, "Yeah?"
A chipper voice replied, too chipper for how early it still felt in his mind.
"Mr. Yakamura! Sorry to call you on short notice, but your client—Mr. Tanimoto—has been asking to meet with you. In person. He says it's urgent, but nothing too serious. Just prefers to discuss it face-to-face."
Raito leaned back against the couch, his expression unreadable.
Tanimoto. The nervous, middle-aged accountant with too many offshore secrets and a tendency to sweat through his collar. Not exactly the kind of client he wanted to deal with on a morning like this.
"I'm not exactly free today," Raito muttered, half-considering hanging up.
But something tugged at him.
Maybe the routine—mundane as it was—would be good for him. Maybe walking through glass doors, sipping office coffee, and nodding through a meeting would clear the thoughts rattling in the corners of his mind.
He sighed through his nose. "Fine. I'll stop by later."
"Oh, great! I'll let Mr. Tanimoto know! He'll be thrilled!"
Click.
Raito dropped the phone beside him and rubbed his forehead with his free hand.
"How responsible," Kurai purred from the back of his mind. "Going to work like a proper adult. But what about the little one?"
Raito blinked, then looked down at Emi. She looked up at him with wide, trusting eyes, still gripping his sleeve with tiny, pudding-sticky fingers.
He gave a small shrug.
"I'll just take her with me."
"…Seriously?" Kurai snorted. "You're bringing a baby to a client meeting?"
Raito didn't answer. He simply adjusted Emi against his shoulder, stood up from the couch, and made his way to the hallway with calm, practiced steps.
Behind him, the TV flickered with bright commercials. Emi burbled quietly.
And Raito, without a flicker of hesitation, prepared to head out—baby in tow.
The phone rang twice before a familiar, hesitant voice answered.
"Yakamura-san? Is everything alright?"
Raito leaned against the kitchen counter, Emi strapped to his chest in a small baby carrier. She had just finished nibbling on a rice cracker and was now contentedly dozing, her cheek pressed to his shirt.
"I got your message," Raito said calmly. "Let's meet at your house. Should be easier for both of us."
There was a pause. "Oh, uh, well—yes, of course! That's no problem. My wife made snacks just in case. We'll be waiting."
Raito hung up after a quiet "See you soon," and glanced down at Emi, who responded with a sleepy sigh.
A short time later, he was dressed in his charcoal-gray coat, crisp black slacks, and matching shoes. His hair was neatly tied back. To any onlooker, he looked like a professional on the way to a business meeting—aside from the pink-blanketed bundle strapped to his chest.
Raito clicked open the car door, got in, and adjusted the mirror with one hand while Emi shifted softly in her sleep. The engine purred to life, and he pulled out of the driveway with practiced ease.
The streets were calm today, the kind of quiet afternoon only late mornings could bring. He liked it. Not too many people. Not too much noise. The city wasn't trying to be anything more than it was.
By the time he arrived at the Tanimoto residence—a modest but well-kept house in the older district—Emi was beginning to stir.
The front door opened before he even rang the bell.
"Ah! Yakamura-san!" a pleasant voice called out.
It was Mrs. Tanimoto, an elderly woman with kind eyes, silver hair in a soft bun, and a floral-patterned apron. She smiled warmly as she walked out to greet him.
Raito bowed his head slightly. "Thank you for having me."
But Mrs. Tanimoto had already noticed the baby.
"Oh my goodness," she said, hand to her mouth. "Is that… your child?"
Mr. Tanimoto appeared behind her, a thin but spry man with a head of gray hair and rimless glasses. His eyes widened slightly at the sight.
"You don't strike me as the fatherly type, Yakamura-san," he said, sounding more amused than judgmental.
"She's not mine," Raito replied flatly, adjusting the baby sling. "This is my sister. I'm looking after her for a while.
"Ah, I see," Mrs. Tanimoto said, clearly relieved. "Still, I guess that explains why you look natural with her."
Emi opened her eyes, looked around with drowsy curiosity, and gave a gummy smile at the older woman.
"Well, aren't you a sweetheart," Mrs. Tanimoto cooed, stepping closer and gently tickling Emi's foot. "Would it be alright if I held her for a bit?"
Raito considered it for half a second before nodding. "She won't cry. She's used to strangers."
"Such trust," Mr. Tanimoto muttered with a quiet chuckle. "Come in. Let's talk over some tea."
The living room smelled faintly of chamomile and lemon cookies. Raito sat across from Mr. Tanimoto at a low table while Mrs. Tanimoto rocked Emi slowly on her lap, humming some old lullaby.
"About your policy," Raito said, flipping open the slim folder he'd brought. "You wanted to discuss your premium increase?"
"Yes," the old man nodded. "I noticed the rate adjusted after I added my grandson to the policy. He just got his license last month."
"That's expected," Raito replied. "Young drivers increase liability risk. Statistically, it's the most accident-prone age group."
"I suppose so," Mr. Tanimoto sighed. "But he barely drives!"
"It's not about what he does. It's about what he could do."
The two men talked numbers, coverage, and clauses for the next twenty minutes. Raito's voice remained calm and professional, answering every question with precise detail. He'd done this dozens of times before. It required little thought, which suited him just fine today.
Meanwhile, Emi babbled contentedly in Mrs. Tanimoto's arms, chewing on a cookie and occasionally trying to grab at the old woman's earrings.
"You sure know how to deal with infants," Raito noted without looking up from the papers.
Mrs. Tanimoto laughed softly. "I raised four children and helped with six grandchildren. I suppose I'm used to being chewed on."
By the time Raito stood up to leave, the paperwork had been signed, the tea was gone, and Emi was once again attached to his chest—calm and drowsy.
"You're a strange one, Yakamura-san," Mr. Tanimoto said with a smile, walking him to the door. "I never imagined my insurance agent would be part-time babysitter."
Raito gave a faint, noncommittal shrug. "Life's full of surprises."
Mrs. Tanimoto leaned down and gently pinched Emi's cheek. "You take care of her. She's precious."
"I know," Raito said, his voice quieter than usual.
With polite goodbyes and a final wave, he returned to his car, placed the baby carrier's strap more securely over his shoulder, and started the engine.
As he pulled out of the driveway and merged back into traffic, he glanced briefly at the clock.
Still early. His next stop wasn't calling him home just yet.
Raito tapped the steering wheel once, then made a sharp turn at the next intersection.
"Guess I'll grab a coffee."
And with that, he drove toward the city—just a quiet man in a coat, with a baby in tow, and a craving for caffeine.