Kenma never really wanted to be a father at that age. But if someone asks him if he regrets taking the baby in, he wouldn't know what to say. He wouldn't say he regret it, he wouldn't say he doesn't either. And yet those words he spoke somehow felt wrong. Suki is not my daughter, that statement somehow made him feel like he shouldn't have said it.

Even when she really isn't his daughter.

For six years he had taken care of her, he watched her grow, from crawling to finally standing up on her own feet and running around, from bubbling incoherent words to finally speaking to the point that she can actually talk back to Kenma now, not once did Kenma feel like she wasn't his daughter.

As much as not a single day that passed that he didn't love her birth mother and not a single day that passed that he didn't regret not telling her when she was still alive. There's not a single day that passed that he didn't treat Suki as someone who isn't his daughter.

Kenma knew you have a lot of questions, and he felt like he shouldn't keep anything from you anymore. Or else it might ignite a misunderstanding. So with that you found yourself in the living room with Kenma as he started to talk.

"Kana's my older sister, she's five years older than me," he started. "When our mom used to work several jobs and she was rarely ever home, Kana, in a sense became my second mother. Maybe that's why I feel like I owed her for that."

Kenma don't remember much of his childhood, but he does remember the times when she would sacrifice her own happiness just to take care of Kenma.

They weren't exactly underprivileged, but living in Tokyo is expensive so their mother had to work lots of jobs at once. And during their mother's absence, when Kenma was still young, Kana would always take care of him.

"I'm not exactly a kind person," he continued. "I took Suki because I thought it was a way for me to repay her for everything she did to me when she was alive. And I plan to tell Suki all about her when she's older."

She took care of Kenma like a mother would to her child, and Kenma is taking care of her own daughter like a father would.

Father, you suddenly thought. "Then, who's Suki's father?"

"I don't know." Kenma's answer was short and precise. He really doesn't know. "Whoever that bastard is, he didn't look for my sister or Suki. So I shouldn't concern myself with the likes of him."

"But what if one day he came and take Suki?" you asked.

It's not like Kenma had heard of the question for the first time. He had pondered that question more times than you would have imagined before.

But it's the first time someone actually asked him that so he wasn't able to speak for a moment. It's highly unlikely, the odds are slim to none, but what if he suddenly shows up one day and ask for Suki's custody.

By law, he has more right to take care of Suki than Kenma does. So perhaps that's why Kenma had avoided pondering about that question anymore. But then again, putting that aside, Kenma had already answered the question before.

"He can only take Suki," he started, looking at you as the side of his lips turn up slightly. "If he earns more money than I do."

You were about to say something along the lines of money isn't the only thing that matters here when Kenma suddenly spoke.

"And if he can love Suki more than I ever did and will do."

He knows money is not the only thing that matters, loving and taking care of a child is a priceless thing in this world. It's something that money cannot buy.

"So yeah, he can take Suki from me if he is better than me with those two things in mind. Money and love."

One is not enough, he has to have both. That was Kenma's conclusion to that question. So what if he earns more money than Kenma does, but he doesn't love Suki, then he can take all his money to himself.

And as pretentious as it may sound, if he loves Suki more than Kenma does, but he doesn't have much money, love cannot provide Suki with everything she wants and needs, especially in this kind of world.

But if he really does love the child, he would have taken care of the mother. So Kenma doubt he even loves them.

"Kana," you started after a while. "What was she like?"

You have asked that question to Kenma's mother once. But this time you want to hear Kenma's perspective of Suki's birth mother. And what exactly did Kenma mean when he said what he said earlier. About how he regret not telling her he loved her when she was still young.

"She was the very embodiment of her name."

Her name, you thought, as simple as it sounded and written, it means powerful. And you realized that Kana, perhaps, was a very strong and independent woman, otherwise she wouldn't be able to take care of a brother five years younger than herself.

"She liked a lot of things, which was why she named the baby Suki. And speaking of which, since I've mentioned about her name, that reminds me, so you really did say her name last night," Kenma said and at the mention of it you suddenly felt your face heating up. "Then, now that everything's cleared, I think I'll be having a good night's sleep tonight."

Kenma stood up and started to walk while you still sat there thinking about what you just did and said earlier and how things ended up this way. The embarrassment that came along with it had made your face even more flushed than earlier.

"Wait, I—"

"Let's talk tomorrow," Kenma said, waving his hand dismissively. "I'm really sleepy right now."

He was already walking, his back turned on you so you didn't see.

You didn't see the slightest upturn of Kenma's lips in a smile, knowing that what you said really wasn't Suki's name. And that for some reason, Kenma found it entertaining to tease you like this, since it was your words that kept him mostly awake last night.

When Kenma got back to his room, he fell on the bed and stare up the ceiling, thinking about what occurred just a moment ago. It feels like if Kenma didn't say that Suki's birth mother was his sister, you might suppress your feelings for him until the contract ends.

"Come to think of it, she's been living with us for some time now. Has it already been a hundred days since?"

Time had really flown like water and for more than three months since you started living with them, Kenma thought of finally going out to that family date you three were supposed to go last time.

"This Saturday?" he muttered, turning to his side. "Right, I'm free this Saturday."

This time around, Kenma might have actually had a good night's sleep to the point that he almost missed waking up to the alarm clock that he found not as cumbersome as it was yesterday. But unlike yesterday too, when Kenma walked in the kitchen, he noticed that Suki was silently eating her breakfast while you couldn't meet Kenma's eyes.

"Suki," he called and the little girl lifted her head up. "I'll drive you to school in ten minutes, finish your breakfast."

"Suki's already done," she said, sliding down her chair and as you look at her bowl you realized there's still more food left yet before you can call the little girl she was already walking to her room.

And just like that you were left alone with Kenma. You were about to leave as well when Kenma spoke, making you stop.

"What's up with her?" he asked, and for a second you thought he was going to ask you about last night.

"Suki? She doesn't have a fever, maybe she got up on the wrong side of the bed?"

From tending to kids you've learned that there will be times and days when kids are not always on their hyperactive and good mood. Days like this will happen every once in a while, especially when Suki is growing up.

"She'll be back in her usual mood soon so don't worry," you said and you were about to continue walking when Kenma spoke again.

"You really think that's the only thing I want to talk about?"

When you turned around, you didn't realize how close he had gotten and you took a step back.

"You seem to have something to tell me, Y/n," he said, the side of his lips turning up so slightly it was almost unnoticeable. "Should we drive Suki to school and grab a coffee on the way while we talk about it?"