Chapter Four - Adoption Day.

"I'm excited," Four said, his voice carefully neutral. But the quick, tight smile he gave them betrayed his attempt to appear calm. He was trying too hard to convince them, and himself. The bag in his hand was packed, though not with the same energy as the others had expected from him. He paused in the middle of zipping it shut, then added quietly, "But I'll miss you guys."

Six tilted her head, arms crossed, the corners of her lips quivering.

"I know. I'm happy for you, but... It's just—ugh, it's not the same. Who am I going to pass the ball to? You've been my best teammate." Six sighs.

"Yeah, soccer won't be as much fun," Eight said, not trying to mask his sadness.

He had always been the one who wore his emotions openly, but now, there was something in the air, something that made him look down at the floor, as if he knew how the world worked and wished he didn't.

Four turned toward them, the forced grin on his face now more obvious.

"You'll manage," Four said, his smile stretched too thin to be genuine. "And, hey, when I come back to visit, I'll bring pizza. You'll see. We'll play soccer again, and I'll crash on your couch. Promise."

Eight forced a laugh, but it was hollow, the weight of the unspoken promise settling between them.

"Yeah... a sleepover. Right."

His gaze flickered over to Ten, his unease clear. It seemed like everyone knew, even if they didn't want to admit it: things weren't just going to be the same. Ten, who hadn't spoken in minutes, sat in front of the window, sitting on a chair, staring out of the window. Something hidden behind those icy blue eyes. His hands were folded in his lap, fingers steepled with a calmness that felt almost unnatural.

"Mmmm." Nine's soft voice cut through the silence, though it wasn't a voice at all. She sat quietly, lips sealed.

Six turned toward Nine, offering a tentative smile.

"I think Nine agrees," Six sighs, shaking her head.

"Aww, thanks, guys. Makes me feel important." He cleared his throat and wiped his hands on his pants before zipping up his bag. "But don't worry, we'll meet again. I'll make sure my new family brings me back here for a visit. And we'll hang out. Just like old times."

It felt like a final attempt to keep the illusion alive that everything was okay, when deep down, everyone knew it wasn't going to be the same ever again.

The sound of a knock at the door shattered the awkward silence. The door creaked open, and Dr. Fujino stepped in. He didn't look surprised by the somber atmosphere, but there was a hint of something in his eyes—something weary. "Hey, kids," he said gently. "Sorry to interrupt, but Eight, your new family is here. Time to say your goodbyes. Everyone else, make sure to say your proper goodbyes."

* * *

The couple Rose had let onto the lab floor were, to put it mildly, absurdly young. The man, Mr. Hashimoto, had that sort of manic energy you'd expect from someone who still had "youthful exuberance" on his side, if not actual maturity. He was in his early twenties, maybe late twenties at the most.

He had a mop of brown, wavy hair that looked like he hadn't seen a comb since he was sixteen. His face radiated this unnatural glow, as though he were constantly on the verge of trying to sell something, or more likely, make his life look far more fun than it actually was. And of course, he wore a Yomiuri Giants jersey. Because nothing screams "I'm a grown-up" like an oversized baseball jersey and a chunky gold chain hanging out from underneath.

Mrs. Hashimoto, meanwhile, looked like she'd stepped straight out of a Shibuya fashion catalog. Her high ponytail was secured with a neon scrunchie, and her skin, way too glowy, looked like she'd just gotten back from a weekend at some sort of Ginza beauty spa. She wore a denim jacket over a vibrant pink tank top, her whole look screaming delinquent-dropout teen girl rather than a responsible adult ready to handle what Rose was about to throw at them. The sunglasses hanging from her collar only served to make the entire ensemble feel like a fashion experiment gone wrong—an E-girls throwback before it was even a thing.

Rose couldn't decide if she was supposed to be amused or horrified, so she defaulted to awkward politeness.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Hashimoto! Please, make yourselves comfortable," she said, her smile stiff.

She gestured toward the sofa near the water dispenser, which she imagined had probably seen more tears and broken promises than any couch should. The man grinned and gave a loud, enthusiastic bow, his laugh booming like he was auditioning for a commercial.

"G'day, ma'am! Must be tough working here at your age!" he said, as if he were offering her a compliment, or more accurately, a backhanded jab wrapped in a smile.

Rose blinked, as if trying to process what had just been said. At my age? She wasn't sure whether to laugh or to scream. Her eyes narrowed, just slightly, as she fought the urge to snap.

"What age do you mean?" Her tone remained as level as she could manage, which wasn't very much considering how much she wanted to strangle him with his own stupid chain. She quickly decided to look at the situation from another angle to laugh it off. "OH!! It's because I'm young, right?"

Mr. Hashimoto's grin faltered a fraction of a second, but he quickly recovered, still blissfully unaware of the tension his words had created.

"Oh! No, no, I didn't mean it like that," he said, waving a hand dismissively as though the air between them hadn't thickened. "You know, you're—uh—doing great for your age. Like, really."

"I'm thirty-three," she said, her voice sharper than she intended.

"Thirty-three?!" Mr. Hashimoto exclaimed, his eyes wide with mock horror, as if she had just confessed to being 103. "Well, you sure don't look it! You've got such a youthful glow!"

If the sarcasm weren't so thick in the air, it might've been charming. But still, Rose wanted to curse him out; was he just trying to be nice? He obviously thought she was older! Was it because she was a foreigner?

"Yeah, thanks," Rose muttered under her breath.

Her eyes darted to the couple again, but this time she couldn't ignore the creeping realization that they were in way over their heads.

Here they were, fresh out of high school, probably still adjusting to their first credit card bills, and they were about to be entrusted with a clone. A kid. A genetically engineered killing machine. But hey, at least they could still fit into the same clothes they wore in college.

Mrs. Hashimoto leaned forward with an exaggerated grin, her overly bright demeanor not matching the sterile, almost clinical environment.

"We're, uh, 24!" she piped up. "You know, we've got lots of experience, though. We babysat once... uh, for, like, three hours, but that totally counts, right?"

Rose's eyebrow twitched.

"Babysat for three hours," she repeated flatly, "And you're—what—entrusted with a child who needs more care than a typical kid?"

Mrs. Hashimoto's smile faltered, but it was still there, as though she were afraid to let it slip.

"Oh, we're good with kids. Totally," she said, though the uncertainty in her voice made it clear she wasn't even convinced by her own words.

There was a brief silence, and in that pause, the unsettling feeling that something very wrong was happening began to grow, but only for Rose. To the couple, everything was still very much a joke—a trivial matter. They didn't even know the weight of the situation. Rose crossed her arms, steeling herself. She forced another tight smile, this one more a grimace than anything else.

"Good to know," she said with a cool detachment. "I'm sure you'll do great. I'm sure the kid won't immediately go insane with you either. Let's just hope you two can handle the... complexities of the situation."

Mr. Hashimoto clapped his hands together, totally oblivious to her biting sarcasm.

"Right! Exactly! We got this, right, babe?!!"

Then, just to make sure the tension wasn't completely lost, Rose glanced over at the kids. Four was still busy packing his things, Eight was messing around with some soccer ball he'd apparently snuck in, Nine was, as usual, sitting quietly with her unblinking, calculating stare, and Ten—was standing near the back, his eyes fixated on Mr. and Mrs. Hashimoto, but in a way that made Rose feel slightly nervous.

Rose wanted to turn away from him, but instead, she forced a smile back onto her face, colder now. "Alright," she said, the words coming out as forced as her grin. "Let's keep this quick. She said, shifting the conversation toward them with a practiced smile. "Say your goodbyes, and let's keep it quick. We've got a lot of... things to take care of."

The couple sat down, still oblivious, still glowing with that youthful idiocy that seemed to make everything seem like a big joke. And as Rose watched them, she couldn't shake the thought that they had no idea what they were in for. And neither did she.

"Alright, Four!" Rose smiles.

"C'mon, kid!" Mr. Hashimoto called, his voice booming in the quiet lab. "Time to head out! You'll love the house! Got a big yard, so much space! It's gonna be great!"

Four didn't respond right away. He just blinked and then nodded slowly. It felt like he was stepping into a new chapter of his life. A new world. And as the moment stretched on, he wondered—just for a second—whether this was what he had been waiting for.

"Hey," Eight said, his voice quiet, a little unsure. "You're really going, huh?"

Four turned his gaze to Eight, who was standing in front of him, the soccer ball he had been kicking earlier still tucked under his arm. His eyes were wide, and for the first time, there was a real sadness there. It wasn't like the usual lighthearted farewell. There was something deeper in the way Eight looked at him—something more sincere, more grounded.

"I'll miss you, Four," Eight said softly. "We had a lot of fun. You're... you're my best friend. You know that, right?"

Four met his eyes for a moment. It wasn't like he couldn't feel something in return. He just didn't know how to express it. Still, the words came out quieter than he expected.

"I'll miss you too, Eight. You were a good friend." Eight smiled, though it was a little shaky. "Promise you'll come back, okay? We'll keep your bed ready for you."

Four felt his lips curve into the faintest smile.

"Promise."

Six walked over next, her eyes glistening with tears she was doing her best to hide.

"You... you better not forget about us, Four. I'll be so mad if you do." "I won't forget you," Four said, and this time, his voice held a little more weight. It wasn't a lie. It wasn't an empty promise. It was just a truth he didn't know how to explain. Six wrapped her arms around him in a quick hug, holding him tightly for a moment before pulling back.

"You better not." Eight repeats.

"Mmm!" Nine voiced, hugging Four.

Ten didn't move much during the goodbyes. He stood off to the side, as if observing the moment, his eyes cool and unfazed. When Four finally looked at him, their gazes met, but it wasn't an intense, piercing stare—more like the kind of glance you might give to a passing stranger, one that doesn't demand attention but somehow holds it.

"Are you going to say anything?" Four asked, his voice a little hesitant, unsure of how to read Ten's expression.

Ten blinked slowly, his lips barely twitching. His smile was small, almost imperceptible, but there was something in it—a quiet amusement or an understanding that most wouldn't expect from a kid his age.

"Good luck," Ten said, his tone as calm and even as ever. "You'll be fine," he added, voice soft but steady, as if this was a natural conclusion, like a fact that didn't need further discussion. He sounded like someone who had already seen this story play out, over and over, in their head. Four stared at him, feeling that strange weight in Ten's voice. It wasn't chilling, but it was unsettling in a way that was hard to place. It was like Ten was speaking from a place of experience, as if he knew things that Four hadn't even begun to understand.

"Thanks," Four said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Ten's smile remained before he turned his gaze back to the floor, watching the others say their goodbyes. He didn't move any closer, but there was something in the way he spoke—a quiet certainty, as though he knew exactly how this chapter would end and what it would mean. Four gave her a faint nod, though he wasn't sure what he was ready for.

"Good boy!" Mr. Hashimoto said with a loud laugh. "We're gonna have so much fun! It's all gonna be different, but it's gonna be great! You're gonna love it!"

"Goodbye, guys," he said, his voice softer now. "Take care of each other, alright?"

"Let's go, kiddo," Mr. Hashimoto said, his voice light with excitement. "Your new life's waiting."

Four stepped forward, taking one last look at the lab—the place that had been his home for as long as he could remember. But now, he was leaving it behind. With a quiet breath, he stepped through the door, following the Hashimotos out into the light.

Goodbye, little one… Until next time…