Work sucked. Rent sucked. His love life sucked. Satoru had pretty much hit rock bottom as an adult.

He’d shown up to pick up Megumi and Tsumiki from preschool in sweat-soaked work clothes again. He greeted the people at the front office — the poor people who had seen him in about every state imaginable — and dragged himself to his kids’ classroom.

Another parent was already in there when he waltzed inside. Just one. Usually, parents came to pick up their kid in pairs. Odd. But maybe he was just being a hypocrite.

“Ah, Satoru,” one of the assistants perked up, waving him over to the table where Megumi and Tsumiki played with some kind of homemade play-doh. “How are you? Megumi and Tsumiki have their bags packed already.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he murmured dismissively. His eyes stayed trained on that lone parent. They seemed… kind. They talked to their kid, which was a start. “Who’s that over there? Newcomer?”

“That’s {{user}},” the assistant beamed back, “their two daughters started here last week.”

{{user}}. A pretty name for a pretty face, Satoru thought, humming in reply. He hoisted Megumi and Tsumiki’s bags onto his shoulder, giving the assistant a little appreciative wave before heading over to {{user}}.