Archive of Our Own ^beta

Aoba performs a final sweep his bedroom. Or what’s left of it, at least. No more piles of clothes and magazines, music and video game systems hauled out along with the desktop, his drawer removed and all the shelves in his closet emptied out, even the centerpiece table has been taken away. All that remains is his bed, sad and lonely against the wall.

It looks…gutted. It even smells different after a morning of vigorous scrubbing down. Just a remnant of the various cleaning fluids and the sharp whiff left behind by a vacuum, wiping out the last traces of his presence.

He already misses the place.

“Aoba!”

The cry of his name, muffled and distant though it is, is enough to jolt him out of his thoughts.

“Oi, Aoba, take any longer and we’re leaving all your crap on the roadside!”

Aoba clicks his tongue and yanks open his balcony door, the better to yell back.

“You can’t give me five seconds to check if I missed anything?!”

“Don’t lie!” He can’t see Mizuki from the balcony, but he can hear the grin through his words well enough. “You’re getting all sentimental in there. Save it for later and come help us!”

“It’s okay to cry, Aoba!” The gentler voice is unmistakably Sei’s, marred by an edge of coy amusement. “We understand. Getting overwhelmed on such an important day is only natural!”

Aoba grumbles, trying and failing to come up with a good comeback. “Whatever!” He spins around, but doubles back onto the balcony just as fast. The need to clarify is too strong for Aoba to resist. “And I’m not crying, Sei!”

He slams the sliding door shut with pointed loudness over their laughter. But his annoyed huff ends with a begrudging smile at himself.

Mizuki has a point. The melancholy can wait.

“Are you trying to break my house before you leave?”

“Granny!” Aoba turns around. She’s standing at the doorway, a bag of groceries in her arms. “Sorry.”

Much to his surprise, she doesn’t look irritated. She just gestures out the door with a nod. “Come on, Aoba. Let’s not keep everyone else waiting.”

“Right.”

He follows her out without looking back, handle on the knob, but Granny catches him before he can close it behind him.

“Leave it open,” is all she tells him.

So he does, and together they head down the stairs and out of the house.

It’s a cloudy day, the wind strong enough to be annoying more than anything else. Aoba grimaces and pulls his billowing hair into a ponytail as he steps out of the house after Granny. Sei and Mizuki stand just beyond the front steps, surrounded by Aoba’s bedroom things and one of Sei’s intricate paper mannequins waiting for its orders. It stands taller than the average human, with strange designs cut into its body by Sei and Usui’s skillful sets of hands. Strong and perfect for manual labor.

Granny shoots him a glare over her shoulder. “Aoba! Don’t forget to — ”

“Locked!” Aoba closes the front door, jiggling its handle as proof.

“Hmph!” Granny purses her lips and looks away. “Glad you learned something after staying in this house for so long…”

“Wow, you’re mean today, Granny.” Aoba laughs under his breath. He saw the way Granny’s displeased frown turned into a tiny smile before she turned away.

“Ready to go?” asks Sei. His hair is also pulled back and clipped against the wind. A face mask still hangs around his neck, forgotten after helping Aoba clean out his room.

Aoba takes a deep breath. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Mizuki grins at him. “Aoba-kun’s finally growing up! Brings a tear to my eye.”

Aoba can think of several words and a hand gesture or two to reply with, but with Granny watching he settles for making a disgruntled face at him.

Never one to waste time, Granny nudges Aoba forward with an impatient elbow. “Haga and Koujaku are waiting for us. Call your familiars out so we can leave!”

“Yes, Granny.”

“Right away, Grandma.”

Aoba doesn’t do anything fancy to call Ren. He closes his eyes and feels for his connection to his familiar, then snaps his fingers. Blue traces of light ignite and fade from the gesture, the field shifts, and Ren appears in a swirl of his cloak.

“I’m glad to be back,” says Ren. “Leave the heavier items to us.”

Meanwhile, Sei gives a deep bow. Aoba feels energy distort from him, stronger and more vivid than the disturbance Ren’s entry causes. Several pairs of slender arms sprout from Sei’s back and push the rest of Usui’s body out from the field. She floats in the air, tall and ethereal, long pale hair shining with light despite the lack of sun, before touching down next to her charge. Usui is as silent as ever, her smile demure and mysterious.

“It must be nice having eight arms,” says Mizuki, looking up at Usui rather wistfully.

Sei’s smile looks a lot like Usui’s. “There are benefits to it.”

“Alright,” says Aoba, going over to the remains of his room and taking hold of a suitcase full of clothes. Or perhaps it’s the one full of miscellaneous wires. His days of moving prep have blurred together in his head. He no longer remembers what was packed where, a problem he figures can wait until later. “We should be able to do this all in one trip, right — whoa!”

Usui makes several hand signs at once. His table, drawer, and mirror fly up and begin to orbit around her in a solar system of furniture. Without waiting for anyone else, she takes off down the road.

“Way to show off,” says Mizuki, staring after her with wide eyes.

Sei shrugs his bony shoulders and glance at Aoba, who looks back, feeling kind of clueless. No one outside the family knows how much freedom Usui truly possesses. As good a friend as Mizuki is, Aoba isn’t about to inform him of it. Sei appears just as close-mouthed.

“Usui is always enthusiastic to help,” says Ren, ever the diplomatic familiar. He gestures at Aoba’s desktop computer, stereo set, and video game systems. “Rise up.”

Aoba still feels the tug of magic inside of him, but its drain is lessened with the help of Ren’s presence. “Thanks, Ren.”

“Let me know if the spell is too taxing for you. I’ll be happy to adjust its power.”

“What do you say?” asks Mizuki, staring down his chest. “Wanna try and one-up all that?”

From out of the front of his jacket pops a dainty white ermine, just long enough to give a vehement shake of its head before diving back into hiding. Sei coos at it.

“So sweet,” he sighs. Mizuki just snorts.

“And lazy as all hell. Do you want him? I just keep him around because he’s cute — ow! That was a joke, don’t bite!”

Aoba laughs. “That’s what you get.”

“What are all of you waiting for?” Granny snaps all of a sudden. “The rest of these things aren’t going to carry themselves to Heibon while you stand around and chat!”

They scramble for the rest of Aoba’s things. Sei ends up with the lightest load: a bag full of smaller items Aoba can’t bring himself to throw away, Mizuki grabs onto two other suitcases, and Aoba spells a small but heavy box of magazines and his growing tome collection to follow after him. At Sei’s request, the paper mannequin takes the computer table, hoisting it above its head with its simply cut arms.

“Finally,” Granny sighs. She marches ahead, an ornery leader guiding her procession.

Mizuki elbows Aoba in the ribs as they make their way through the narrow, winding streets of East District. “Excited to begin the business owner life?”

Aoba wrinkles his nose. “You mean the life I’ve been living for the past…what, two or three months?” Just like the week of packing, the process of Haga handing Heibon down to him has been a complete blur, one filled with stacks of paperwork, frantic note-taking, and long hours spent pouring over advice articles. Thinking about it makes his stomach shiver.

“But now you’re going to be living on top of the shop. That’s going all in.”

“Go big or go home,” is all Aoba manages to say. His mouth feels a little too dry. He wishes he thought to bring a bottle of water with him.

“And the latter isn’t a problem,” Sei interjects from a little ways behind them. Aoba slows down until they’re besides each other. “For any reason.”

“You don’t have to be nice, I know you and Granny are glad to get rid of me.” Aoba tries to laugh, but Sei doesn’t budge an inch, not even for a joke.

“Grandma, you agree with me, right? Little brother can always come home.” he calls ahead. Granny just glances back at them.

“I can take or leave the boy.”

Sei gasps. “Grandma!”

“Wow, jeez!” Aoba can’t help but laugh, however. Granny didn’t waste a second for that response.

Mizuki joins Aoba in his mirth with a loud guffaw. “Tae, that was cold-blooded.”

Sei just looks at Aoba, eyes dark and earnest. “You can always come back.”

“I know, I know,” says Aoba, nudging his shoulder into Sei’s. He doesn’t tell Sei how he feels about the idea of coming back. It would upset him too much.

The walk from his house to Heibon is an easy ten minutes, even without the numerous shortcuts one can take. They’re stopped every so often, mostly by Granny’s friends from around the neighborhood.

“Is it the big day at last?” says an old, bespectacled woman peeling the leaves off strange, glistening red flowers on her porch as they pass her by. “Do your best, Aoba-kun!”

“Bout time someone got that old bastard out of Heibon,” an elderly man comments after greeting and having a quick conversation with Tae. “One of you tell Haga he still owes me a drink!”

And so on, until the ten minute walk stretches into well over twenty. But Aoba, Sei, and Mizuki make light of everything on their way there, talking and laughing while Tae speaks to the ones who come up to them. Aoba listens to Mizuki tell everyone about how he and Dry Juice ran a rival coven off their turf last night and watches Sei make his paper mannequin perform some astonishing juggling techniques with his computer desk with a simple hand gesture. Ren doesn’t speak much, but his presence is steadfast, his pull at Aoba’s energy more a comfort than a strain. They might as well be taking a pleasant afternoon stroll, enjoying the blustery day on their way to a restaurant or a shopping trip.

In reality, they’re helping Aoba go through one of the biggest changes in his life, but it’s easy to pretend otherwise. Aoba lets himself forget about it all, if only for a few precious moments.

One more turn around a corner store and Heibon is finally in view. Aoba’s heart does a weak, wriggling flip, but before it can overtake him Mizuki holds out a hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“Close your eyes the rest of the way there!”

“Why?” asks Aoba, expression going flat.

“Work with me here, Aoba. And don’t say a word, Sei,” he adds, staring over at him in warning.

Sei mimes zipping his mouth, his smile all innocence.

“Don’t just stand there,” says Granny. “Do as he says so we can move all this stuff upstairs!”

No use going one-against-three. “Fine,” says Aoba with a sigh as he closes his eyes. “Someone better keep me from running into something!”

“I've got you.” Ren grips him by the elbow and tugs him forward. He trusts his familiar enough not to lead him into some kind of trick, so he follows along without further complaint and mounting curiosity.

“Okay, you can open your eyes now,” Mizuki announces when they stop. Aoba ends up bumping into Ren’s back with the abrupt halt. “What do you think?”

Sei makes a very impressed sound and Granny hums in interest. “What is it you want me to — ” Aoba opens his eyes and follows everyone’s line of sight upwards. The rest of his question is swept out of his throat. “Oh.”

It’s not the most eloquent response, but it’s all he can manage when he looks at Heibon’s new sign. A large butterfly glimmers in shining blue paint, bearing Mizuki’s penchant for abstract shapes. Every now and then it flutters its wings, throwing off a light smattering of dust that sparkles over the bold “Charm Shop” characters.

“It glows at night, too,” says Mizuki, sounding pleased with himself. “Not too bright, so it doesn’t bug you while you’re trying to sleep.”

Aoba turns to Mizuki. “Is this why you were running late this morning? You told me you weren’t gonna be done with this until next week!”

“I lied,” Mizuki tells him cheerfully.

Aoba looks back up at the new logo. He commissioned Mizuki for it about a month ago at Haga’s suggestion. Helped him design it, even. Nothing about how it has come out surprises him. And yet…

He presses his fingertips over his mouth.

It’s Sei’s turn to knock his shoulder into Aoba’s. “Now are you going to cry?”

“I’d take it as a compliment if you did,” says Mizuki.

“That’s not it,” Aoba insists, but his voice is not nearly as tough as he wants it to sound. “I’m just…surprised!”

“Surprised enough to cry?”

“I’m really close to giving you something to cry about,” he snaps at Mizuki, then sucks in a breath. “But it came out perfectly. Thanks, Mizuki. I mean it.”

Mizuki grins. “High quality and fast service for one of my best friends. Good luck with Heibon, Aoba.”

“It’s very well done,” says Granny. “How long will that animation spell last?”

“Hopefully about a year,” he tells her, making a face up at it. “That part was a pain and a half. I think I’ll stick with brewing potions from now on.”

“Oh, Aoba!”

The second floor’s balcony doors slide open. Koujaku steps out and waves down at them. He’s forced to step aside for Usui, however, who squeezes through the gap and floats over the balcony back to Sei, disappearing into his back until only her arms were visible.

“What took you guys so long?” Koujaku asks after making a face at Usui’s retreating form.

“Everyone kept dawdling,” says Tae before Aoba can answer. “Is the front door open?”

“Sure, come in and put everything down! We’re almost done cleaning this place up!”

They enter Heibon one after the other. Ren and the paper mannequin going in first with their larger furniture. Sei and Granny enter next, with Aoba and Mizuki at the rear.

“It’s different every time I come in here,” says Mizuki, looking around with interest.

“I can’t decide where I should put all my new stock,” Aoba admits. He’s closed for a few extra days to get used to his new living space without interruption, but he knows most of the time will be spent reorganizing everything, mixing old items and new into formations he hopes will be visually appealing to his shoppers.

His shoppers. The concept still blows his mind.

Mizuki looks at the left-side wall and whistles at the half-filled shelf and overflowing boxes of books around. “And where the hell did you get all of those?”

“Donations,” says Aoba. “Asking around the neighborhood.” They weren’t the most difficult thing to collect, what with how many old witch-sages lived around him, the type who have long since committed most of their mystical know-how to memory. “I’m sure at least a third of those have nothing to do with spellwork. I’ll sort them out when I have time.” And who knows when that will be, he thinks grimly.

Mizuki just looks back at him with raised brows. “You sure have your work cut out for you.”

“Tell me about it,” Aoba sighs.

Up ahead, Granny heads straight to the break room refrigerator with her bag of food. Sei, Ren, and the paper mannequin are forced to queue up at the hallway. Ren sends his items up one at a time with a simple command that makes Aoba’s skin prickle in response to the energy flowing through him. The electronics float up the stair with methodical slowness, Ren following after them.

Sei makes a quick gesture and the mannequin hauls the table up the stairs in a careful sidestep. However, the table legs still bang against the wall. Aoba cringes.

“Sorry,” says Sei with an embarrassed laugh. “It’s a bit of a squeeze.”

“I…” Aoba closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “…please try not to put a hole in my wall, Sei. I just moved in.”

“Understood!” Sei gives him a cheerful salute and follows his helper upward.

Mizuki glances at Aoba next. “Is it cool if I leave your suitcases here and call it a day?”

Aoba stares at him in complete silence.

“Kidding.”

“Your jokes suck, Mizuki.”

“Tough crowd.” He picks the suitcases up from the floor and carries them to the second floor. With a lot less banging or scraping than Sei’s mannequin, Aoba notes with satisfaction. Last one up, he beckons for his floating box of books to go up before him. On his way, he hears Granny muttering in great displeasure in the break room. No doubt the refrigerator is not at all up to her standards of filled.

There’s lively chatter coming from his new living space, but before he can inspect it he runs into Haga coming out of the hallway bathroom with a bucket of cleaning supplies. The scent in the air is similar to the one he left behind at Granny’s house: sharp and clean, with a strong whiff of fake-lemon chemical scent.

“Aoba-kun! Did you see the new Heibon sign?”

“I did. It’s everything I hoped for.” Hoping it doesn’t hit anyone, Aoba tells his box to continue ahead without him. “How has it been up here?”

“Not nearly as bad as I thought!” He follows Haga down the rest of the hallway. “With Koujaku-kun’s help we cleaned everything in no time. Ah, getting this floor spruced up really brings me back…it’s good to see it sparkling again.”

“I’ll take really good care of it Haga-san, I promise.” Not that he has a choice even if he didn’t want to do that. He’s still paying his soon-to-be ex-boss rent, but the rate is so low he almost felt guilty agreeing to it. Almost.

“I’m sure you will,” says Haga. “I have no doubt in my mind you’ll do right by this place.”

Aoba feels the pressure on his back increase. But he smiles at Haga, all the same.

They turn a corner into the living quarters proper. It’s bigger than his room, but not by much. His rug and table adorn the center of it (and Ren, now a dog, sits on top of the table, his tail wagging at the appearance of his master), and his drawer and suitcases have been placed next to the closet. His computer area has also been shoved haphazardly under the loft bed, already messy with the surrounding unpacked bags and boxes. The sliding glass balcony door is a welcome sight, making the space appear even larger than it is with the curtain pulled out of the way.

And yet everything still reeked of an utter, unlived-in foreignness that clogged up Aoba's insides. How long will it take him to get used to it?

“Aoba!” Koujaku flips his cleaning rag onto his shoulder and approaches him with a broad smile. “What do you think? Looks good, right?”

“Looks great,” says Aoba with a grin. “Thanks for your help, Koujaku.”

“No problem.”

“And…” Making an apologetic face, Aoba pulls out the object he’s been saving for Koujaku from his jacket pocket. “Sorry -- again -- about breaking your ashtray. Uh, will this work as a replacement?”

He holds out the new one he bought for Koujaku’s inspection. The bowl’s made of glass, probably even more fragile than the one Aoba accidentally snapped under the weight of a heavy box while shuffling things around during his packing frenzy, but hopefully just as serviceable. He still feels like an ass for ruining something Koujaku has used for so long.

Koujaku takes it from his hands with clawed, careful fingers and tucks it into his robe. “Thank you very much, Aoba. I’ll treasure it, always.”

Hearing that is one of the bigger reliefs Aoba has felt all week. Still, he also feels the weight of awkwardness in the air between them, and he can’t quite look Koujaku in the eye until Mizuki -- thank goodness -- interrupts.

“I was hoping you’d get most of the cleaning done before we got here.” Mizuki has taken seat above them on the loft, the one striking difference between this room and his old one.

“You better not be sitting on my new futon,” says Aoba, narrowing his eyes.

“Relax, it’s folded up against the wall.” He skips the ladder entirely and jumps off the loft, landing with a rattling impact.

“We didn’t do all the cleaning, bastard.” Koujaku tosses his rag at him. “The glass doors can use a wipe down.”

“What, did you forget how? Do you need me to show you?”

Mizuki and Koujaku start to bicker and shove. Aoba laughs and eggs them on, just for fun, but soon spots Sei out of the corner of his eye. He’s sitting at the table with Ren and Mizuki’s ermine, head bowed in a weariness Aoba recognizes at once. Aoba swaps places with Haga, allowing him the task of getting Mizuki and Koujaku to settle down.

“Tired?” Aoba asks as he approaches his twin. Sei looks up and smiles.

“I held out for longer than I thought I would,” he says, voice soft. He concentrates on the little paper ball he flicks between his fingers, the inert form of his mannequin. “And it’s not so bad.”

“You can go home, if you want.”

Aoba’s offer is as automatic as Sei’s refusal. “I’m not leaving until everyone else does.”

“That’s fair.” Aoba doesn’t try to argue, and really, he doesn’t want Sei to go home. Not yet. “It’s a nice room, isn’t it?”

Sei nods. “You’ll grow to like it.”

Answering questions Aoba didn’t ask. That was Sei’s way. Aoba says nothing in reply. He doesn’t need to. Sei can read his silence very well.

It doesn’t take long for Aoba to realize that with all his things in his new quarters, there isn’t much else for him to do thanks to Koujaku and Haga-san’s speed cleaning. He and Sei watch Koujaku force Mizuki into buffing the balcony window, and it isn’t long before Granny calls them back to the first floor. They head downstairs, Aoba taking up the rear and killing the urge to look back before following them.

“Before we go,” Mizuki announces once everyone is gathered in the break room with Granny. He pulls out a heavy bottle from the fridge. “Quick housewarming celebration!”

Aoba and Koujaku cheer, and Sei immediately gets up to find some glasses.

“I thought you already had that party last week,” says Granny, raising her brows at Aoba.

“And I bet he’s still feeling it, too,” says Koujaku, grinning at Aoba.

“I’m perfectly fine,” Aoba scoffs. “It’s not like I went wild that night!”

“Really? Because you still had to have Koujaku and I lead your drunk, yelling ass back home,” Mizuki counters as Sei comes back and places shot glasses in front of everyone. “Tae, I’m so sorry. You raised a lightweight.”

“No one’s perfect,” said Tae, making Koujaku and Mizuki laugh. Even Sei giggles as he sits back down. Aoba glares at him. Traitor.

Haga pats his shoulder, the lone beacon of sympathy. “Nothing wrong with being a lightweight, Aoba-kun.”

“Jeez, what is with you all?” he asks, glaring all around. “Is it ‘throw Aoba under the bus’ day?”

“We cleaned your room for you,” Mizuki tells him, pouring his glass to the brim. “Consider this payment.”

“We’re just having fun,” says Koujaku. “If it makes you feel any better, Aoba, I’ve seen worse drunks than you.”

“Thanks.” Aoba makes sure his voice is heavy with sarcasm. But really, he’s not too annoyed. “And it’s not like I dragged you into helping, kicking and screaming, Mizuki.”

“Complaining is fun. Is that enough, Sei?”

“All the way, please,” says Sei. “Thank you.”

“You know, I haven’t seen you drunk before,” Mizuki notes, looking over Sei with curious eyes.

Sei gives him one of his sweeter smiles. “And you won’t.”

The finality of Sei’s words strike Mizuki silent for a moment. Then he shrugs in acceptance. “If you say so. How about you, Tae?”

“Of course.”

“Haga?”

“Fill it up!”

“Alright,” says Koujaku after Mizuki gets back to his seat. “Aoba, say something for the toast. This is a special occasion!”

“Wha — me?” asks Aoba, startled. “Can’t we just knock glasses together and drink?”

“Don’t spoil your moment,” Sei urges. “It doesn’t have to be a formal speech, little brother.”

“But it better be good,” Mizuki warns. Sei smacks his shoulder, which only makes him snicker.

“Something to kick off your new home,” says Haga. “For good luck!”

“Whatever you want to do, just decide before midnight. I need to be up early tomorrow,” says Granny.

“Okay, okay!” Aoba looks around the room, at everyone’s expectant faces. Familiar, kind faces.

Faces he’ll see a lot less of very soon.

Right. He can give them this much. Easily, gladly.

He stands up and clears his throat. “I…don’t have much to say, really,” he begins, trying his best not to sound too hesitant. “Because you’ve all probably heard it a million times already since I decided to take over Heibon. Thank you all. For…a lot of things. But for this, especially.”

“Aw,” says Mizuki. But it isn’t nearly as teasing as he’s been throughout the day. Aoba lets it slide.

“I’m very grateful for this opportunity everyone has helped me achieved. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure Heibon is success.” He lifts his glass. “To Charm Shop Heibon!”

“To Charm Shop Heibon!”

Everyone is smiling as they lift their glasses to his. Aoba imprints the image in his mind. It’ll keep him up, hold him steady during his tough days.

They drink in unison. Aoba downs his glass in one go. The fire rolling down his throat feels good, almost like his magic.

They exit Heibon, but the group is slow to part.

“You better come visit me at the bar every now and then,” Mizuki tells him. “After everything calms down. We can have you’re-finally-used-to-your-new-home drinks!”

“You have a drinking excuse for every occasion, don’t you?” Aoba asks, face falling flat.

“You bet.”

Aoba shakes his head and laughs. “Fine. I promise.”

“I’ll drag you out if I have to,” says Koujaku. There’s a shadow to his smile. He’s clutching his new ashtray with tight fingers.

“That sounds like a pretty bad threat, hippo.” Aoba’s laugh isn’t as humorous as he hoped it would sound. “Hey, Koujaku, it’s not like I’m closing my doors to everyone forever. I just…need some time to get it all sorted out. Get the charm shop in full swing.”

“Oh, of course!” Koujaku’s words come out in a rush. “I understand how it is. Good luck, Aoba. And don’t give up. I know you can do it.”

Those words…Aoba’s responding smile is fuller as he bids Koujaku and Mizuki good night. They wave and head off together down the street and around a corner, disappearing from view.

Haga is next to come up to him. Aoba swears his face is a bit ruddier than normal. The liquor must have hit him harder than he’s letting on.

“I’ll see you on Monday, Aoba-kun,” he tells him. “There are a few more things I want to make sure you understand before you’re completely on your own. And even after that, if you have any trouble, just call. I’ll be more than happy to help.”

“I will.” Aoba inclines his head. He’ll always be thankful to Haga. It is his belief in him that Aoba has this chance at all. “I’ll do my best, Haga-san.”

“You’ve proved that much to me already.” And, with an easy wave, he strolls away in the opposite direction Koujaku and Mizuki took.

Aoba turns to his family next. They stand near Heibon’s front door, watching while Aoba sends his friends off. Granny approaches him first, expression severe.

“I don’t want to visit you and find an empty refrigerator. Do you understand?”

“I understand, Granny.”

“Nor do I want to see your rosemary bush uncared for. Surely, you can handle that much botany.”

“I learned from the best.” Aoba gives her a sunny smile. His eyes sting. Just a little, hopefully not noticeable. But there’s no harm in it at this point, right?

“Oh, Aoba.” Granny wraps her arms around him, giving him a brief, strong, squeeze. “You’ve made me proud to make it this far. Keep taking care of yourself.”

Aoba doesn’t hesitate. He hugs her just as tight, and all of a sudden he’s young and vulnerable again, hiding his face in her dress for comfort. “I will, Granny. I promise. I won’t let you down. Never again.”

He feels her sigh. “As long as you try. That’s what’s important.”

They part, and before Aoba can even scrub at his eyes Sei latches onto him. Once, twice, three times over…hugs with Sei were always somewhat odd with his familiar, but Aoba leans into him just as he did with Granny. Firm and unwilling to separate.

“I know you need time on your own, Aoba,” Sei whispers into his ear. His voice wobbles. “I can give you that much. But try not to get lost in it, okay?”

Aoba’s voice is just as weak. “Okay.” He’s not sure if it’s a promise.

“I see so many things that might happen,” Sei continues. “And it’s so hard to know what’s more likely than all the other possibilities. If I’m right…I think this will be one of the best decisions you’ve ever made.”

Aoba doesn’t ask what will happen if he’s wrong. Instead, he just hugs his twin tighter. “I hope so.”

“I know. Keep at it, Aoba. You’ve become a good witch. I’ll talk to you once you’re settled.”

“I’ll probably be too busy on the weekdays for a long while, so can you -- ”

“On a weekend, of course.”

Aoba steps out of Sei’s many-armed hug. Sei caves in first, wiping at the corner of his eyes with a long sleeve. One of his extra arms reaches down and pats the top of his head.

“We should get going,” says Granny. “Don’t stay up too late, Aoba, even when you’re off.”

Aoba huffs a weary laugh. “I’m too exhausted to do that tonight.”

She turns to Sei. “Come along, Sei. Time to go home.”

Sei nods. He slips a hand around Granny’s elbow. “See you later, little brother.”

“Good night, Aoba.”

“Night, Granny. Sei.” Aoba waves at them, and they wave back. As do a few of Sei’s arms. “You, too, Usui. Stay safe. See you soon.”

They turn and head back they way they came that morning, helping each other along the narrow path. Aoba doesn’t move until they’re completely out of his sight.

All too soon it becomes very quiet. There are voices, movement, life, just a few blocks away, but that already seems a whole world beyond his shop.

The lamp post above him buzzes with electricity, and the wind blows a long, low howl past him. They’re the loudest things on the street.

Aoba has to swallow repeatedly before he can speak. “Ren?”

The air collapses right at chest-height. Aoba catches the bundle of blue fur that drops from it. Ren uncurls in his hands and barks in greeting.

“Good evening, Aoba. Are you properly moved in, now?”

“Everything's been brought upstairs. Does that count as proper?”

Ren blinks dark, soft eyes up at him. “Shall we head inside?”

“Might as well,” says Aoba. He looks up at the new shop sign and its glittering, glowing logo for a long moment. His logo. How strange.

Then he enters Heibon, locking the door behind him.

He passes the current mess that is his shop, all the hand-me-downs and donations that he’ll have to work his ass off to catalog and put away in time for the store reopening. His stomach flutters, and he’s not sure if it’s in anticipation or dread.

He stops, however, at his desk. Propped against its side was a very old, very familiar broomstick. Next to it is a note in Granny’s neat handwriting.

Aoba can’t help but laugh. “There’s no arguing with her.”

“It’s a trustworthy broom,” says Ren, poking it with his nose. “And it likes you. I would keep it.”

“Guess you’re with me, too,” he tells it. The broom stays inert. “No complaints when I use you to actually clean. That’s gotta be way easier than lugging my butt all over Old District, right?”

No response. He takes it as affirmation and heads upstairs, Ren still cradled in his arms.

He turns on the lights when he enters his bedroom. It still smells of cleaner and the faintest aroma of dust. Old made new, new made to look familiar. He thinks he’ll enjoy the loft bed, at least. And his closet space is bigger.

“Will you decorate it?” asks Ren, as they head to the balcony.

Aoba hums, opening the glass doors and walking back out into the cold night air, careful to step over the line of protective salt on the ground. “I don’t know the first thing about decorating, Ren. But I was thinking of getting a bookshelf. The left-hand wall is really empty looking.”

“It’s a good place,” Ren says. He jumps out of Aoba’s arms, balancing on the balcony edge while Aoba leans on it besides him. “I can see us living here for a long time.”

“Do you want to?”

“I live wherever you live.” An immediate, simple answer. Aoba runs his fingers through Ren’s fur.

“Ren?”

“Yes, Aoba.”

Aoba bows his head. A weak, stunned chuckle escapes past his lips, everything hitting him in a rush. “I own a whole shop, Ren. I can’t believe it. I run this place. I live in it.”

Ren bumps his head against Aoba’s arm. “Does that frighten you?”

“I-I don’t…I'm not sure. I have business cards now, and I have customers, and all these suppliers I have to deal with, and all this other stuff I barely understand, and I — holy shit.” He just wants to laugh and laugh, anything to unwind the tense knots forming in his guts. “It’s too much.”

“Take it one day at a time,” says Ren. “It will be easier you that way.”

He buries his head in his hand. Beneath him, the butterfly logo gives off soft blue light almost swallowed by the street lamp. He hears voices in the distance, rowdy, drunken ones typical to any weekend night in Old District’s shopping areas.

“And you can always call your friends and family, Aoba. They are not far out of reach, even if you do not have the time to visit them in person.”

“I know, but…”

But I have to do this alone.

“I need some time,” is all he says, hearing his brother’s voice behind his own. His exhale shakes in his lungs. “I can’t get distracted right now. Too much stuff I have to take care of first. Too much. Just…too much stuff…”

“You should get some rest,” Ren suggests. “You will feel calmer when you wake up, Aoba.”

He nods. His eyes are welling up, and in his privacy he allows it. “Y-yeah. Yeah. I’ll go to bed soon.”

“Are you sad, Aoba?” Ren whines, leaning more of his weight against Aoba’s arm.

“Getting overwhelmed on such an important day is only natural!”

“I’m not sure…” Aoba repeats. He hunches his shoulders, shuddering as tears stream down his face. Ren steps into his arms, and without thinking he picks him back up and cries into his fur. More wind blows past them, carrying the muffled sounds he makes away with it.

Tomorrow he will sort through his products, contact supply partners and a few more potential customers, and gather the items he needs for his first round of commissioned charms. He’ll probably be smiling through a lot of it. There will be music to dance to; Ren to speak to, and maybe Clear, too, who promised to visit as soon as possible; and a million other tasks to keep him occupied for who knows how long.

But right now all he can do is wring the stress and worry out of him. Get it out, get it all over with until it builds back up again.

“Ren?” It takes effort to form the words past his weeping.“C-can you sleep on my futon tonight? I don’t think I can be by…by myself right now.”

“Of course. I won’t leave you alone.”

Aoba shivers and nods, eyes and nose still leaking freely, squeezing Ren like he’s his last lifeline.

Things will be better in the morning.