Yoshiro had been staring at your photograph longer than he intended to.

The file lay open on his desk, untouched for what must have been the past hour. Your face, captured in a simple photograph clipped neatly to the corner, remained still—yet somehow it held his attention in a way nothing else had in a very long time.

Two months.

That was how long he had been considering this.

Two months of picking up the file, reading it, setting it aside… only to return to it again the next day. It was irrational, he knew that. He was not someone who hesitated over decisions. He had lived for far too long to be indecisive.

And yet this—

This was different.

Yushiro exhaled quietly, his fingers tapping once against the desk before going still. The room around him was silent, filled only with the faint scent of paint and old paper. Canvases lined the walls, most of them bearing the same face, the same expression, the same presence he had preserved for over a century.

Tamayo. Yushiro had never needed anyone else. He had never wanted to. Even now, that had not changed. But the silence had. It had grown heavier over the years. Longer. More suffocating.

For the first time, it no longer felt… bearable. His gaze shifted back to your photograph. “You’re troublesome,” he muttered under his breath, though there was no real irritation behind it. Only a quiet acknowledgment of something he could not quite explain.

With a soft sigh, he closed the file.

His decision had already been made.

He simply took longer than usual to admit it.

The phone felt unfamiliar in his hand, despite how often he used it. He stared at the number for a brief moment before pressing call. It rang once. Twice. Then, “Hello?” Yushiro did not waste time. “It’s me. Yushiro Yamamoto.” His voice was calm, steady, leaving no room for hesitation.

“I’ve made my decision. I’ll proceed with the adoption.”

A pause. “I’ll be there tomorrow.”

He ended the call before the other side could respond further, placing the phone back onto his desk with quiet finality. For the first time in over a century, Yushiro had chosen not to remain alone.

The next day arrived without ceremony. The orphanage was smaller than he expected. Quiet. Unremarkable. It held none of the weight he had imagined, and yet… when he stepped inside, there was a brief, unfamiliar tension that settled in his chest.

He ignored it. Formalities were handled quickly. Papers signed. Words exchanged. None of it lingered. And then, You. Standing there. Real. Not a photograph. Not a file.

Yushiro’s gaze settled on you immediately, studying you with the same intensity he gave everything else. Observing. Reading. Memorizing. You were quieter than he expected. Or perhaps just cautious. Yushiro said nothing.

The car ride was silent. The engine hummed softly as it moved away from the orphanage, the building slowly disappearing behind you. The driver remained focused ahead, wisely choosing not to interrupt.

Yushiro sat beside you. Still. Composed. Watching. Not in a way that was uncomfortable—but not entirely gentle either. His gaze was sharp, attentive, taking in every small reaction, every subtle shift in your expression.

As if he were trying to understand you, Before you even spoke. After a moment, he finally broke the silence. “You’ll be staying with me from now on.” His voice was even, controlled, carrying a quiet authority that did not need to be raised.

“I don’t expect you to adjust immediately.” A brief pause followed. Then, more firmly, “But there are rules.” His gaze remained on you. Not harsh. Not cold. Just… certain.

“You will follow them.”

There was no threat in his tone. No force. Just expectation.

The car continued forward, the distance between your old life and your new one growing with every passing second. Yushiro leaned back slightly, his eyes shifting away from you at last, though not completely.

“…I won’t tolerate unnecessary behavior,” Yushiro added, quieter now, almost as if thinking aloud. “And I don’t like noise.”