Rescued by Lamia: Chapter 3 (Patreon)

Life in the Kurusu household had changed so much in such a short span that sometimes Harry found it difficult to grasp just how far he’d come. He wasn’t entirely sure how many days had passed since he and Miia had arrived in Japan—only that each new sunrise brought the promise of warmth, laughter, and safety. More than once, he’d woken from restless dreams of the cupboard under the stairs to the comforting sight of Miia’s coils wrapped protectively around him. Or to Papi’s bright smile as she softly patted his hair with her wing. Or even to Kimihito’s gentle voice, coaxing him down for breakfast without the slightest hint of anger. The difference between this life and the one he’d left behind was so profound that he couldn’t wrap his mind around it all at once.

Still, as the days in this new home progressed, Harry noticed small tensions brewing. Miia and Papi, although friendly enough in front of him, carried an undercurrent of jealousy about who got to spend more time cuddling him, who got to prepare his meals, even who made him laugh harder. Each day, Papi woke up bright-eyed with new ideas for what she and Harry could do, but Miia almost always found a reason to intercept them: She wanted to comb his hair first, or she needed his help in the kitchen, or she’d coil around him just as Papi was about to sweep him up in a winged hug.

Neither woman was openly unkind. In fact, Harry felt they both genuinely liked each other. They would exchange good-natured banter, tease one another about trifles, and laugh wholeheartedly when Kimihito made some clumsy remark or the renovation workers knocked a shelf loose. He suspected that the flickers of tension were more about him than anything else. Still, he sometimes worried that he was an unwitting source of friction, so he did his best to smile for both of them—inviting Papi to play one moment, then letting Miia snug him the next.

Kimihito, for his part, took it all in with an air of long-suffering patience. His two spare bedrooms had been reworked into a single wide space for Miia and Papi to share. Carpets got rolled up, furniture was shoved around, and every day seemed to bring new workers from Ms. Smith’s department into the house. The ongoing chaos of half-finished expansions didn’t stop him from cooking proper meals or making sure that Harry was adjusting. He wasn’t perfect—he sometimes forgot that Miia needed extra warmth in the evenings or that Papi might absentmindedly try to bathe in a neighbor’s pool—but he managed nonetheless.

Of course, Harry remained at the center of it all. His bright green eyes would light up whenever someone handed him a plate of food he didn’t have to beg for, or whenever Papi proposed a game that required almost no skill—just laughter and running, or flapping around to pretend they could fly. And if Harry ever had a nightmare that brought back old fears, Miia would stroke his hair and whisper reassuring words until he calmed, tears drying on his cheeks. On the worst nights, Papi would join in, or sometimes Kimihito would quietly appear at the door, making sure everything was okay. The household might have been chaotic, but it was a chaotic love that Harry treasured.

One bright morning, after breakfast had been eaten and the dishes stacked neatly in the sink, Papi hopped to her feet. She was wearing a loose T-shirt and shorts, though her wings always made clothes an afterthought—she tended to slip out of them if they felt too confining. Right then, she fluttered them with excitement, an eager grin spreading across her face.

“Harry, Miss Miia,” she chirped, her voice sweet and high. “Let’s go to the park today! You know, that big one with the swings? We can show Harry a real day of fun outside!”

Miia set down the dish she was drying, her tail curving in interest. “A park day?” she repeated. “That sounds nice. Harry, what do you think?” She turned her golden gaze on the child, lips curling into a soft smile. “We could get some fresh air, maybe bring a few snacks.”

Harry could hardly contain his grin. He nodded fervently. “Yes, please! We can… feed birds or… or do anything, really!”

Papi’s eyes sparkled. “Yay! Then let’s go right now! C’mon, c’mon!”

Kimihito, who was leaning against the counter with mild exasperation, sighed good-naturedly. “You guys just ate. If you head out this instant, who’s going to handle the cleanup, or the rest of the renovations?” He glanced around at the half-finished patch of new flooring that a group of workers had installed only that morning. Some tools lay scattered about, awaiting the next phase of the project.

Miia’s tail flicked as she shrugged. “They’re not coming back until tomorrow, right? Ms. Smith texted you about that.” She tossed the dish towel aside. “We can still be back by lunchtime if we leave now. A quick morning in the park wouldn’t hurt.”

Kimihito closed his eyes, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. Don’t get into trouble out there.” He gave them a wry smile and turned to Harry. “Have fun, buddy. Remember to drink water—if Miia forgets to share, let me know and I’ll scold her.” That last bit was obviously a playful jab, to which Miia responded by sticking out her tongue.

“Come on, Darling,” she retorted lightly, “I won’t let my sweet Harry go thirsty.” Stooping down, she patted Harry’s shoulder. “Go grab your shoes, dear. It’s nice out, but I don’t want you tripping over rough ground.”

He dashed off to do just that, brimming with excitement. He could already picture the wind on his face as he soared on the park’s swing set. The day was so bright and full of promise that he had almost no recollection of a time when such small pleasures were forbidden or overshadowed by fear.

Not long after that, they were outside, strolling along the sidewalks of the residential area. Harry walked between Miia and Papi, smiling up at them each time they said something that caught his interest. Papi chattered about how many birds might be in the park that day. Miia teased him about feeding them, warning Papi not to try to gather them in her arms. Then the talk shifted to Harry’s Japanese lessons—a subject that always made him a little shy, but Miia encouraged him to try a new phrase or two. He dutifully repeated “Ohayō” and “Arigatō,” though his accent was uncertain. Papi gave him an enthusiastic wing-clap anyway.

They passed by a few neighbors. Some recognized Miia from the local news snippets about extraspecies integration, while others stared openly. A few just nodded politely. Harry noticed the difference from Privet Drive—nobody here sneered or whispered nasty remarks. True, some gazes held curiosity, but it seemed more open-minded than malicious.

In the near distance, large green trees came into view, marking the start of the park. Papi sped up, pulling Harry along with her wing. Miia followed at her own slithering pace, flicking her tail every so often to keep from tangling in passersby. The park itself was well-maintained: wide patches of grass, clusters of families enjoying the mild weather, an inviting playground area with bright red swings and a slide.

Harry’s heart fluttered with excitement. He still remembered the times Aunt Petunia would drop Dudley off at playgrounds but force Harry to remain behind—practically locked in the car or told to sit in a corner, never letting him partake. Now, though, he had free rein. He could hardly contain a breathless grin as Papi guided him toward the swing set.

“Whee!” Papi laughed, taking the seat beside Harry as best she could. Her wings fluttered. “Push me, push me!” she squealed, eyes shining with childlike delight.

Miia rolled her eyes affectionately. “I thought we were here for Harry.”

Papi pointed her wingtips in the air. “I’m letting him swing too! We can share, right, cutie?”

Harry giggled. “I’ll push you first. Then you can push me,” he offered. He wasn’t sure if he had enough strength to really give Papi a good push, but the harpy hardly weighed anything. Her wings gave added lift anyway.

As they began, Miia lingered near, watchful but amused. She wore a gentle smile as she observed how carefree Harry looked, how his laughter chimed in the warm air. The breeze teased at his messy black hair; the sunlight danced in his green eyes. Over the last few days, he’d spoken more and more, shyly telling them about small tidbits of his past—never the darkest parts, but enough that Miia got a sense of how neglected he’d been. Seeing him so happy now made her chest swell with a fierce protectiveness. She’d do anything to ensure that the Dursleys, or anyone else who might harm him, stayed far, far away.

Meanwhile, Kimihito—who had apparently changed his mind about tagging along—showed up carrying a paper bag. He explained he’d wanted to bring sandwiches in case they decided to stay past lunch. Miia teased him about being a “worrier,” but Harry was glad for the meal. He hopped off the swing to rummage in the bag, anticipating the taste of something simple and delicious. Papi followed, trying to peek in as well. Miia and Kimihito then got caught up talking about the next round of renovations. They discussed whether the new extension would be enough to accommodate any future housemates, and Kimihito half-jokingly complained about Ms. Smith’s knack for dropping random extraspecies into his life.

All the while, neither Miia nor Kimihito noticed that Papi, excited by a new idea, leaned toward Harry and whispered, “Hey, let’s play hide-and-seek, cutie!”

Harry’s face lit up. “Right now?” he asked, glancing uncertainly at Miia’s tail. She was in the middle of a conversation. “Should we tell Miia?”

Papi waved a wing dismissively. “We’ll only be over there,” she said, pointing to a cluster of trees near the edge of the playground. “We won’t leave the park. And I’ll keep an eye on you, promise!” Then she raised her voice, calling, “Miiaaa, we’re playing hide-and-seek, alright?”

Miia gave a half-turn, nodding absently. “Okay, but stay close,” she answered. “Don’t stray too far into those trees.”

“Got it!” Papi chirped. She guided Harry away, leaving Miia to resume her talk with Kimihito. As they neared the trees, Harry felt the thrill of the game wash over him: the whisper of leaves overhead, the soft dirt underfoot, the sense of being in a secret hideaway.

“Let’s do it!” Papi said, spinning around and covering her eyes with her wing. “I’ll count to twenty. You go hide, okay?”

Harry let out a small giggle. “Alright, but no peeking!” He took off, searching for a good spot behind one of the wider tree trunks. The park extended somewhat into a lightly wooded area, not exactly dense forest, but enough to provide shade and pockets of privacy. He found a large tree with thick roots and crouched behind it, making himself as small as possible.

He could still hear Papi counting in her sing-song voice—“eighteen… nineteen…” Then she opened her eyes. “Ready or not, here I come!” She giggled loudly, announcing her presence. Harry huddled closer to the tree, heart pounding in playful excitement. This was so much fun. He almost wanted to giggle out loud but forced himself to remain silent.

Suddenly, he heard a twig snap behind him. He froze. If that was Papi, she was approaching from the wrong direction. Then a deep, unfamiliar voice whispered, “Hey there, kid. You lost?”

Harry tensed, the hair on his arms standing up. He glanced over his shoulder to see a man with disheveled clothes and a harsh glint in his eye. He was leaning forward, peering at Harry with a mix of curiosity and something else—something that made Harry’s stomach twist uneasily.

“I… I’m fine,” Harry managed, voice wavering. He tried to inch backward around the tree, hoping Papi or Miia would come into view. But the man sidestepped, cutting him off.

“Your parents around?” the stranger pressed, pushing a hand through greasy hair. He forced a smile that looked more like a snarl. “Need help?”

Harry’s pulse quickened. He tried to remember Ms. Smith’s cautionary tales about strangers, and everything Miia had said about being safe. “I’m… with my family,” he answered, glancing around. “They’re close by.”

“Is that so?” The man snorted, his forced grin slipping. “Why don’t we go find them, huh?” He lunged suddenly, clamping a hand over Harry’s mouth. Harry gasped in terror, eyes widening as he let out a muffled cry. The man swiftly pulled him backward, deeper into the trees, making sure to keep his grip tight. “No screaming, got it?”

Harry struggled, arms flailing. But he was smaller and weaker than the man, and his yells were barely more than muffled whimpers through the coarse hand. His mind flashed back to memories of the Dursleys, but this was worse—this was a stranger. He had no idea what this man wanted, only that it couldn’t be good. He tried to clamp his teeth down on the man’s palm, but the angle was wrong, and fear made his jaw shaky.

“Cut it out,” the man hissed, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed. “I just want a word with your guardians, that’s all. Let’s find them together.” But his tone suggested otherwise.

Harry’s heart pounded so loudly he hardly heard anything else. He tried to thrash his legs, but the man picked him up, keeping him pinned under one arm as if he were a troublesome package. The edge of the park grew sparser, leading to a dusty patch of ground that extended toward another row of trees. No one was around. Harry could vaguely hear Papi’s chirpy voice in the distance—“Harry, wherrre are you?”—but it felt like miles away.

Then, suddenly, a new voice cut through the tension:

“That child does not belong to you. Unhand him at once.”

It was female, rich and resonant, carrying a note of stern authority. Harry turned his head just enough to see, through frightened tears, a tall figure with a gleaming horse’s body: Centorea Shianus, the centaur he’d glimpsed the day before. She stood near the treeline, upright, her arms folded across her armored breastplate. The sun highlighted the golden hue of her hair, giving her a regal air. Even from a distance, Harry felt the power in her stance—a readiness to protect.

The man holding Harry let out a grunt of surprise. “What the—? Who are you?” He tightened his grip on Harry and took a step backward, clearly spooked by the sight of a half-human, half-horse woman.

Centorea’s eyes narrowed, lips forming a determined line. “I will not ask again,” she said, voice cool. “Release the boy.”

“Back off!” the man spat, turning on his heel. He tried to bolt, presumably to vanish deeper into the park or possibly to find a place where no one could intervene. But Centorea’s speed was remarkable. She dashed forward in a burst, her hooves thundering against the dirt. In less than two strides, she overtook him, one strong arm braced to seize his wrist.

Harry felt himself yanked as the man tried to hold onto his prize, but Centorea’s strength was far greater. Within a heartbeat, she’d pried Harry out of his grip and pinned the man’s arm behind his back, forcing him to drop to the ground with a cry of pain. Harry stumbled, heart pounding, only for Centorea to catch him in her free arm, pressing him gently but securely to her armored torso.

“Are you unharmed?” she asked Harry, her tone shifting from authoritative to gentle. She kept a wary eye on the man, who was now squirming on the ground, cursing.

Harry didn’t trust himself to speak. Tears blurred his vision. He managed a small nod, clinging to Centorea’s breastplate with trembling fingers. The man wriggled, but one fierce glare from Centorea froze him in place. She had the advantage in both strength and speed, and no doubt in moral resolve as well.

“Stay down,” she commanded, stepping back just enough to keep the man in her peripheral. She cradled Harry with her other arm, adjusting so he could breathe comfortably. “We will find your guardian, child. I promise.”

Harry swallowed hard. “M-Miss Miia is near…” he got out in a shaky whisper, his mind swirling with fear and relief.

Centorea gave a curt nod, about to say something else. But the man on the ground made a sudden movement, as though to lunge for her back legs. Without hesitation, Centorea hooked a leg around his torso and pinned him firmly, letting out a disgusted snort. “You would attack a centaur from behind? Cowardly.”

Harry flinched at the man’s curses. He buried his face against the cool metal of Centorea’s armor, tears finally spilling over. He could barely register the words she muttered under her breath—something about calling for the authorities. Yet the next moment, the man twisted violently, slipping free in a brief moment of luck. He scrambled to his feet and bolted, cursing all the while.

Centorea seemed ready to give chase, but Harry whimpered, clutching her in desperation. She hesitated, gaze flicking between the fleeing criminal and the frightened child in her arms. After a heartbeat, she decided: Harry was the priority. The man, worthless as he was, could be dealt with by the authorities once they had a proper description.

“Are you able to walk?” she asked Harry, gently setting him on his feet but keeping a protective hand on his shoulder.

Harry’s knees buckled. He shook his head, tears sliding down his cheeks as he tried to speak. “I… I want Miss Miia,” he managed, voice raw.

Centorea’s stern expression softened with empathy. She lowered herself, letting Harry lean against her equine flank. “Come,” she said, voice kind now. “I shall take you back to your family. Where did you last see them?”

Harry tried to steady his breathing. “Near the s-swings,” he whispered. “B-But it’s… oh no, it’s so far.” He felt dizzy from the adrenaline crash, his small body trembling uncontrollably.

Centorea nodded once more, determination in her eyes. “Then hold on to me,” she instructed. Before Harry could protest, she lifted him gently, one arm cradling his torso, his legs draped over the side of her horse body. “I will ensure no further harm comes to you.”

Harry let out a choked sob, relief mingling with lingering terror. He pressed his face into Centorea’s shoulder, heart still pounding. She turned, heading back toward the deeper part of the park, away from the deserted trees.

Back at the main area of the park, chaos was unfolding. It started innocently enough: Papi had finished counting and called out, “Harry, ready or not, here I come!” She fluttered around, eyes searching excitedly behind tree trunks. She expected to hear him stifling giggles or see a flash of his shirt. But within moments, she realized he wasn’t in any of the obvious spots. A small frown creased her features. She circled wider, calling, “Harry? You better not go too far, cutie…”

No answer.

Papi’s voice turned anxious. “Hey… c’mon, that’s not funny. Harry?” She hopped around a large bush, scanning. Concern began to gnaw at her. The wooded patch wasn’t that large. By now, he should have giggled or moved. She retraced her steps to where Miia and Kimihito were chatting.

“Um, Miia?” she said, nerves rattling in her tone. “Did Harry come back?”

Miia blinked. “No? He was with you…” She trailed off, noticing Papi’s worried expression. Instantly, Miia’s own protective instincts flared. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” Papi admitted, voice climbing an octave. “I was counting, then I tried to find him, but… he’s not there!” Her wings fluttered wildly, betraying her alarm.

Miia spun, gaze scanning the park. Her tail lashed. “Harry?” she called, loud enough to turn a few heads. Nothing. The child was nowhere in sight.

Within seconds, Miia’s panic soared. She slithered at high speed into the patch of trees, ignoring the wide-eyed stares of bystanders. “Harry? Harry, answer me!” she cried, fear twisting her stomach. She soon found the large tree trunk behind which Harry had hidden. No child, no sign of him. Her heart pounded, a thousand awful possibilities filling her mind. Had he wandered off deeper into the trees? What if he got lost? Or…

Papi dashed to the far edge, scanning frantically. “Harry, cutie, come on! This isn’t funny anymore!” She peered behind each tree, her anxiety spiking with every empty spot.

Kimihito, swiftly grasping the gravity of the situation, ran up. “Is he missing?” he asked, breath tight.

Miia turned to him, eyes wild with terror. “He’s gone, Darling! I—he was with Papi, playing hide-and-seek!” She gulped. “What if he got hurt… or taken…”

Kimihito placed a hand on her shoulder, though he himself looked pale. “Let’s not assume the worst,” he said in as calm a voice as he could muster. “He could have wandered. The park is big, but not that big. We’ll spread out, ask people if they saw a small boy.”

Miia nodded but could barely think straight. She and Papi took off in opposite directions, calling Harry’s name. Kimihito ran for the nearest policeman stationed near the park’s entrance. Within minutes, an official search began. A couple of parents who noticed the commotion also pitched in, scanning the park grounds. The air bristled with tension.

Miia’s imagination assaulted her with horrifying images of Harry getting dragged away by some unscrupulous person, or stumbling into a hidden pit, or being abducted by criminals. She had no reason to suspect criminals specifically—her mind was simply conjuring the worst. Each second that passed felt like an hour, dread burning her chest. She could scarcely breathe. Papi, similarly frantic, soared to the top of the tallest tree, frantically scanning for any sign of him. But the boy was nowhere.

Meanwhile, on the outskirts of the park, Centorea carefully carried Harry along the less-crowded side paths, away from startled onlookers. She could see, across the distance, the swirl of activity—people running about in clear distress. She presumed it was related to the child in her arms. Harry, cheeks still wet from tears, clung to her, occasionally letting out shaky breaths. Each time he looked up at her face, relief and gratitude mingled with residual terror.

“Th-thank you,” he managed at last, voice trembling. “For saving me.”

Centorea’s expression softened. “You are most welcome.” She paused, gaze flicking to his scraped knees. “I wish I could have intervened sooner.”

Harry swallowed hard, trying to piece his thoughts together. “H-he… that man… I… I’m so scared, Miss.” He looked at her with wide green eyes. “I thought… maybe I wouldn’t see Miss Miia or Papi or… or any of them again.”

The centaur slowed her gait, letting the commotion at the main part of the park come into clearer focus. “You have been through an ordeal,” she murmured sympathetically. “But rest assured, I will see you safely home. Or to your guardians, if they are near.”

He nodded, tears threatening to fall again. “Miss Miia must be so worried…” He sniffled, burying his face briefly against her shoulder. Then he remembered something. “You… you’re the centaur who was at the house, right? Or… were you near it? I saw you a day ago…”

Centorea blushed faintly. “Indeed, I have been… in the vicinity.” She hesitated. “I sought a worthy family to accept me as their houseguest under the Cultural Exchange Act. I believed I had found an address that hosted a lamia, a harpy, and a kind boy.” She eyed Harry gently. “But I was uncertain if your household would welcome a centaur. So I lingered, uncertain.”

“Oh,” Harry said, blinking. “But… we have Miia, who’s half snake, and Papi, who’s half bird… I’m sure we’d… we’d let you in.” He managed a shaky smile. “Especially if you save me from a bad guy. Right?”

Centorea gave a small smile. “Your acceptance is most heartening.” She paused, noticing how his breathing still hitched now and then. “Are you able to walk?” she asked again, more gently. “You look pale.”

Harry opened his mouth to respond but found his legs wobbled badly. Realizing that, Centorea came to a halt. She frowned, concern clouding her eyes. She’d carried him like a rescued charge, but perhaps there was a more comfortable way for him to ride—like a true companion. In her culture, letting a human ride freely on her back was a grave matter. Yet the boy was so frightened and small, and she felt an inexplicable stirring of protectiveness.

“Hold on,” she whispered, carefully shifting her stance. “Climb onto my back. I will carry you more securely. That armor might be uncomfortable if you remain pressed against it.”

He blinked, uncertain. “Um… are you sure?”

She nodded once, though her heart fluttered. “Yes… do not fear.”

So Harry slid carefully onto her equine back, gripping the edge of her breastplate for balance. Centorea guided his small hands to a safer hold, making sure he wouldn’t slip. The moment he settled, he felt a surprising warmth and comfort—her horse body was sturdy and broad, yet she maintained a gentle sway as she moved. He exhaled shakily, letting the tension fade.

“Thank you,” he said again, quieter. “This is… I’ve never ridden a horse. You’re… different, though. Sorry if that’s rude.”

She offered a soft chuckle, stepping forward. “I am indeed different from a common horse. But worry not, I take no offense. Now, let us find your guardian.”

Her voice was calm, but Centorea’s mind spun with conflicting emotions. She knew from her people’s traditions that allowing a human to ride upon her back—especially a child, especially in such an intimate rescue scenario—constituted a pledge of protection. Sometimes it even symbolized adoption in certain ancient rites, though that was typically more formal. She tried to dismiss the thought as an archaic custom. After all, the boy was frightened and needed comfort. She was providing it, nothing more.

Yet as she walked carefully toward the central area of the park, hearing him sigh and relax in relief, she felt something akin to maternal fondness bloom in her chest. This child, so vulnerable, had so clearly faced terror. She could sense his spirit brightening the moment he realized he was safe. That unwavering trust he placed in her, even though they’d only just met, stirred her knightly instincts in the deepest way.

Harry’s eyelids fluttered, exhaustion creeping in. It had been an emotionally draining experience. He leaned forward, cheek grazing her shoulder. “Miss… Centorea, right?”

She nodded. “Yes, child.”

“I… feel… safe,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleepiness. “C-can I… rest… just a little?”

Centorea’s heart twisted. “Of course,” she murmured, continuing her slow pace. “I shall wake you when we arrive.”

He let out a soft whimper, then seemed to sag against her back, as though every muscle in his body finally surrendered to the stress of the day. Centorea’s equine ears twitched, hearing his breathing steady into something closer to sleep. She continued forward, hooves clicking over concrete as she left the wooded patch and approached the main portion of the park. In the distance, she heard Miia’s frantic calls, the echo of “Harry!” repeated over and over.

At that moment, as Harry dozed on her back, Centorea realized she’d made a momentous choice by letting him ride there. According to her people’s oldest lore, letting a human child climb unbidden onto a centaur’s back was tantamount to forging a familial bond—a vow of guardianship that transcended ordinary ties. The vow wasn’t purely symbolic either; in some corners of the centaur community, it was recognized by tradition as a legal adoption. A child who rode a centaur’s back under such circumstances would be considered the centaur’s child from that day onward.

She tried to steady her thoughts. This was an age of new laws, new interactions with humans. Perhaps no one would care about an old centaur tradition. And yet, a part of her felt the weight of that vow settle into her heart. She couldn’t deny that the warmth of his trust, the press of his small body against her, ignited a fierce devotion she hadn’t expected. Her chest tightened with an emotion akin to love, though she barely knew him. Protecting him felt as natural as breathing.

Before long, she emerged from the wooded area into the open field that connected to the playground. The midday sun draped the scene in harsh light, revealing the chaos of uniformed officers and worried park-goers. A cluster of them had gathered by the swings, where a distraught lamia clutched at her hair, tail thrashing in agitation. A harpy flitted overhead, scanning every inch of ground. And Kimihito stood speaking urgently to a policeman. It was clear they were all searching for someone. Centorea slowed, heart thumping: She’d found the right people.

Raising her voice, she called, “Your child is safe!” The sound boomed across the grass. Miia’s head snapped up, eyes going wide, tail stiffening as she spotted Centorea’s tall figure and the small child draped across her back.

“Harry!” Miia shrieked. She slithered forward so fast that an officer had to jump aside. Papi, mid-flight, gave a startled squawk and dive-bombed toward them. Kimihito hurried over, relief flooding his features.

Centorea halted, carefully shifting Harry so she could lift him down without jostling him too roughly. The moment she did, Miia yanked him into her arms, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Harry!” she cried again, pressing frantic kisses to his forehead. “Oh God, you’re okay—are you hurt? What happened? Why are you—?” Her words tumbled out in a half-sob, half-scolding.

Harry stirred awake from the sudden commotion, blinking bleary eyes. He recognized Miia’s voice and clung to her. “M-Miss Miia,” he whispered, tears forming again as relief washed over him. “I… I was so scared. A man… h-he grabbed me… but she—” He pointed feebly at Centorea. “She saved me.”

Miia cradled his face in her hands, scanning him for injuries. “I’m so sorry,” she breathed. “We lost you. I shouldn’t have let you wander…” Her eyes lingered on the fresh bruises on his wrists where the man had grabbed him. She gasped quietly, guilt contorting her features. “My poor sweet boy…”

Papi touched down beside them, wings shaking. “Cutie! Oh cutie, I’m so sorry!” She half-sobbed, wanting to embrace him but hesitating because Miia was holding him so tightly. “I… I said we’d play hide-and-seek, but then you vanished, and I couldn’t find you, and—”

“It’s okay,” Harry murmured, voice still quivering. “I… I’m okay. Miss Centorea saved me.”

Kimihito arrived, gently placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Hey, buddy. Let me look at you.” He studied the boy’s face, brushing aside a lock of black hair. “You’re a bit scratched up, but… thank God, you’re safe.” He let out a shaky exhale, turning to Centorea. “Thank you so much.”

The centaur gave a polite nod, crossing an arm over her chest. “It was my duty,” she said simply. “I heard the child’s cries and intervened. I apologize for not restraining his attacker more thoroughly—he fled.”

An officer stepped up, clearing his throat. “We’ll take care of that. Did you get a good look at him?”

Centorea described the man’s appearance calmly, as Harry nodded in tearful confirmation. Another policeman jotted notes, murmuring about a possible suspect matching that description. They promised to search the area and gave the group instructions on where to file a formal statement.

Amid all of this, Miia barely took her attention off Harry. She stroked his hair, kissed his cheeks, tears still glinting in her eyes. Papi hovered close, apologizing over and over. Kimihito offered his thanks to Centorea again, shaking her hand firmly.

Then, abruptly, Centorea spoke words that froze Miia in her tracks:

“I am relieved,” she said, gently brushing her fingertips across Harry’s hair. “My child is safe.”

A hush fell over the group. Harry, exhausted, only blinked in confusion. He was pressed into Miia’s embrace, hardly registering the phrase. But Miia’s face tightened at the mention of “my child,” her lamia eyes narrowing with sudden suspicion.

Kimihito hesitated, obviously unsure if he’d misunderstood. “Um… your child?” he echoed, glancing between Centorea and Harry. “That’s… quite the turn of phrase.”

Centorea realized what she’d said. A faint blush tinted her cheeks, but she cleared her throat in a dignified way. “I… merely meant that while we traveled here, the child… We… that is, in centaur culture, there is a tradition.” She paused, noticing Miia’s glare intensify. “When a young one rides upon a centaur’s back in a certain manner, it can constitute an adoption ritual, recognized by many of my people.”

Miia’s hold on Harry tightened. “Adoption?” Her voice was dangerously low. “Harry is not your child. He’s mine.” She shot a venomous look at Centorea. “I—I mean, I’m his guardian, so… so you can’t just call him your child.”

Centorea pressed a hand to her chest, bowing slightly. “I understand your confusion. I did not plan this. It… happened naturally because the boy was in distress.” She glanced at Harry, who was staring, baffled. “I have no desire to usurp your place. But by my people’s law, I cannot deny the bond that formed today.”

Miia’s eyes flashed. She set Harry down, stepping forward. “Look, Miss Knight, I appreciate you saving him, truly. I’m grateful beyond words. But calling him your child is… is stepping way out of line.” She tensed, tail swishing aggressively. “He belongs with me.”

“Now, now,” Kimihito interjected, raising his hands. “Let’s settle down. Centorea saved Harry’s life. She’s not trying to steal him, right?” He gave Centorea a pointed look.

“Of course not,” Centorea agreed, though her voice trembled with sincerity. “I only meant that in centaur tradition, I owe him my protection. It is a vow now, one I cannot ignore.”

Harry glanced between them, tears forming again. He tugged on Miia’s sleeve. “Miss Miia, she’s not… stealing me,” he said, voice small. “She… saved me. I was on her back because I was too tired to walk. She was really nice. Don’t be mad at her.”

Miia’s anger deflated slightly under Harry’s pleading eyes. “I’m not mad at her, sweetie. I’m just…” She struggled for words, jealousy warring with gratitude in her expression. Finally, she let out a shaky breath and turned to Centorea. “Thank you for rescuing him. I’m sorry if I sounded harsh. I just… can’t bear the thought of losing Harry to someone else.”

Centorea’s gaze softened. “I have no intention of separating him from you. Only to pledge that I will watch over him as well.” She hesitated, then added, “And if you require a caretaker for him, under the Cultural Exchange Act, I… well, I also need a proper host family.”

At this, Ms. Smith chose that moment to arrive, her posture as lax as ever, a half-finished coffee in hand. “Knock knock,” she sang out, ignoring the tension. “Heard about a kidnapping attempt. Figures I’d find you all here.” She slid her gaze across the group, eyebrow quirking at Centorea. “Ah, so the centaur’s made contact. Good. Saves me the trouble of introducing you two.” She sipped her coffee. “So, who’s adopting whom this time?”

Kimihito rolled his eyes. “Smith, your timing is awful.”

Smith shrugged, looking thoroughly unrepentant. She listened as Centorea repeated the story of saving Harry and described the cultural significance of him riding her back. “Mmm, well that’s interesting,” Smith remarked once the centaur finished. “Technically, none of that is recognized by local law. But hey, who am I to step on centuries of tradition?” She gave Harry a lazy wink. “Kid, you sure attract quite the menagerie, don’t you?”

Harry flushed, half-hiding behind Miia’s coils. Miia cleared her throat. “So, Ms. Smith, is there a problem if Centorea wants to stay with us or… or be assigned to Kimihito’s household?”

Smith considered. “I see no reason not to. She’s obviously protective of the child, and you guys have plenty of space once we finish the expansions. It might get tight for a while, though.” She eyed Kimihito. “But it’s your call, darling.”

Kimihito sighed, exasperation blending with relief. “Yeah, yeah. We already have Miia and Papi. I guess one more… we’ll figure it out.” He offered Centorea a polite bow. “You’re welcome to join us. Just… watch the house. We’re still renovating.”

Centorea’s lips curved into a grateful smile. She bowed her head. “Thank you. I shall do my utmost to be of service, and to protect this child.” Her voice trembled on that last phrase as she glanced at Harry, who looked up at her with a mixture of wonder and gratitude.

Papi clapped her wings. “Yay, another friend! And a horsie friend, too!” She caught Miia’s warning glare. “I mean… a proud centaur friend. Sorry.”

Miia parted her lips, obviously wanting to protest further, but seeing Harry’s relieved face, she bit her tongue. She forced a small smile. “Alright. Let’s… let’s just go home. Or to the police station first if we need to file a report about that man.”

“Home is fine,” Smith drawled, “the cops can come to you. I’ll handle the paperwork.” She flapped a hand. “Any injuries that need immediate attention?”

Harry shifted. “Just… bruises,” he said in a quiet voice.

Miia hugged him again, mindful of the bruises. “We’ll get you cleaned up and see if we need any ointment. Let’s go.”

With that, the group departed the park, leaving the remaining officers to continue the search for the kidnapper. A few bystanders stared in awe at the lamia, the harpy, the centaur, the child, and the rather weary-looking Japanese man all walking together. No one dared question them, though. Between Miia’s coiled tail and Centorea’s dignified stride, they made an imposing sight.

By the time they reached Kimihito’s house, the sun had risen higher, casting bright patches of light along the sidewalks. Harry felt exhausted, leaning a bit on Miia, though Papi occasionally took his hand or wing-patted him for encouragement. Centorea walked behind them, occasionally glancing around as though scanning for potential threats.

When they stepped inside, Harry’s eyes fell on the comforting familiarity of the living space: the sofa, the half-finished wall expansions, and the cluster of personal items left on the table. Everything suddenly felt even more precious after his close call. Miia guided him to the couch, kneeling to examine the bruises on his wrists.

Papi fluttered anxiously. “Should I get, like, a cold compress or something?”

Kimihito nodded. “Yeah, that’d help. Thanks, Papi.” The harpy darted off.

Smith planted herself near the doorway, tapping at her phone. “I’ll call an official in to collect your statements,” she told Kimihito. “As for Miss Centorea, I’ll make sure the paperwork is processed for her official assignment here.” She paused, casting an amused look at Miia. “Unless, of course, you want to adopt her into the family some other way?”

Miia shot her a glare. “That’s not funny.”

Centorea, standing beside them, inclined her head. “I appreciate your assistance, Ms. Smith. Please ensure everything is done properly. I do not wish to break any laws.”

“Sure,” Smith replied, turning away to place calls with typical nonchalance.

Miia gently dabbed a wet cloth over Harry’s wrists, tears threatening to spill again when she saw how red the skin was. “Does this hurt?” she asked softly.

He shook his head, biting his lip. “It stings a little. But… I’m okay, Miss Miia. Really.”

She let out a trembling sigh, then looked up at Centorea, who hovered nearby with concern. “I… guess we owe you a lot,” Miia said, voice subdued. “Thank you.”

Centorea bowed again. “He is very dear to you, and I could not stand by while he was in danger.” Her gaze briefly swept to Harry. “Nor can I deny that I feel a certain… connection. I hope you will permit me to remain near him.”

Miia gave a faint nod, though she still looked torn. “Yes, well… we’ll work it out, I guess.” She paused, blinking away tears. “He’s been through enough. He doesn’t need more drama.”

Silence settled for a moment, broken only by Harry’s soft sniffles and the sound of Papi returning with a chilled compress. She handed it to Miia, who wrapped it gently around one of Harry’s bruised wrists, pressing it lightly against the tender flesh.

Kimihito cleared his throat. “Centorea, uh… can I show you around the place, or do you want to rest? It’s probably not built for a centaur at the moment, but the workers can expand the doorways soon.” He flicked a glance at the half-removed door frame that was supposed to become a bigger entrance for Miia and Papi.

Centorea regarded the house. She’d already crouched slightly upon entering, her torso fitting into the hallway but her equine half crowding the foyer. “I confess it is… cramped,” she said. “But I am grateful for your hospitality.” She frowned, noticing how her flank nearly brushed the wall. “If you could show me where I might stay, I will do my best to avoid disturbing your arrangement.”

Kimihito shrugged awkwardly. “We’ll figure something out. Let’s at least clear some space in the living room for now. Maybe once we talk to the renovation crew, we can set up a better stable area in the yard or something.” He cast a sidelong look at Miia, who seemed too absorbed in caring for Harry to offer her input.

Over the next hour, under Kimihito’s directions, Papi and Miia shifted various pieces of furniture around. They moved the coffee table aside, propped up the couch a bit, and created a broad, open floor space near one corner of the living room. That left enough room for Centorea to stand or lie down if needed. It wasn’t ideal, but it would suffice until real remodeling could happen.

During this, Harry remained on the couch, holding the compress to his wrist. He felt a pang of guilt watching them scramble to accommodate yet another housemate—especially one as large as a centaur. But as soon as he tried to stand up and help, Miia ushered him back down, gently scolding him to rest. So he sat, quietly observing the flurry of activity.

Eventually, the police official arrived to take statements about the attempted kidnapping. Miia clutched Harry to her side the entire time, though she did her best to remain calm while describing how they found him missing, how Centorea saved him, and the physical description of the attacker. Centorea recounted her perspective with stoic clarity, occasionally patting Harry’s shoulder when he grew too anxious to speak. The policeman took notes, asked a few questions, and then politely excused himself with promises to be in touch.

With that ordeal handled, a sense of subdued relief washed over the household. Papi, who had been quiet while the policeman was around, finally piped up, “Harry, do you want me to get you something to eat? Maybe some fruit? You must be hungry…”

Harry realized his stomach did feel empty. The excitement and terror had overshadowed the fact that he’d barely touched the sandwiches Kimihito brought to the park. “Um… yes, please,” he said softly, flashing a grateful smile.

Papi dashed off to rummage in the kitchen. Meanwhile, Miia shifted closer to Harry, letting him rest his head on her coil. “Are you sure you’re alright?” she asked softly for the tenth time. “No dizziness, no headache?”

Harry sighed. “I’m just tired, Miss Miia. But… I’m so glad you’re here.” He pressed closer, inhaling her comforting scent. “I love you.”

Miia’s eyes misted. She wrapped her arms around him, kissing the top of his head. “I love you too, sweetie. I’ll protect you better next time. I promise.”

A quiet cleared throat drew her attention. Centorea stood near, wearing a concerned look. “Allow me to express the same pledge. I will defend him with my life.”

Miia stared up at the centaur, warring emotions flickering across her face. But at last, she exhaled and nodded. “Alright,” she said softly, hugging Harry tighter. “I guess it can’t hurt to have more protectors around.”

Papi returned with a small plate of sliced fruit, placing it in Harry’s lap. He thanked her with a shy smile. She patted his hair gently with her wing, and for a moment, all was peaceful again.

Time passed, and as evening approached, Kimihito prepared a simple dinner. The day’s tension had worn everyone out, so the meal was quiet, though Miia insisted on feeding Harry a few bites as if he were a toddler. He blushed but accepted her fussing, understanding she was still shaken by the near-disaster.

Centorea, for her part, waited politely, uncertain if she should join the table or remain in the cleared corner. Kimihito eventually beckoned her to come closer, offering her a portion of the meal. “We might not have a table tall enough for you,” he said apologetically, “but we can figure something out.”

She knelt gracefully, her horse body folding into the open space they’d created, and accepted the food with gratitude. Miia watched carefully, as though trying to gauge whether the centaur would reveal some hidden intention toward Harry. But Centorea merely ate in silence, occasionally exchanging small talk with Kimihito about how the household functioned. Papi hovered around, finishing her meal quickly, then attempting to show Harry a card trick she’d learned. He giggled, partly because she was so bad at it.

Once dinner concluded, Ms. Smith—who’d lingered outside for another phone call—stuck her head in. “All right, all official. Centorea is now assigned to the Kurusu household. Yada yada. Paperwork is in process. The renovation crew will come tomorrow to see about building a stable extension or something suitable for a centaur. Just don’t let her break anything tonight. And if you do, I’ll be by to handle more forms in the morning.”

“Thank you for your unwavering devotion to your job,” Kimihito murmured sarcastically.

Smith offered a wink and a lazy salute before disappearing again. The front door clicked shut, leaving the group to a sudden hush. Papi flapped her wings, yawning loudly, while Miia coiled around the couch. Centorea remained in her corner, observing.

Harry rubbed his eyes. He was still worn out from the day’s drama, though part of him wanted to stay awake, perhaps to make sure no one left him alone. Miia noticed and ruffled his hair. “Let’s get you to bed,” she suggested softly.

He nodded. “But… um… Miss Centorea? Where will she sleep?”

Kimihito exchanged a look with the centaur. “For tonight, maybe in the living room. We’ll put down some blankets. Tomorrow the crew can start building something more permanent.”

Centorea accepted with a polite smile. “I am accustomed to sleeping outdoors, so this is generous enough.”

Papi flitted over, curiosity dancing in her eyes. “Outdoors? Because you’re… half horse? Or do you just like the grass?”

Centorea’s cheeks reddened faintly. “It is not so simple. But a stable environment is typically more comfortable for one of my stature. I do not wish to inconvenience anyone.”

Papi nodded, though it was clear she only half-understood. She then shot Miia a quick glance, noticing how the lamia already had an arm curled around Harry’s shoulder, guiding him to stand up. The harpy bit her lip, debating whether to intervene and walk with him. But Miia’s fierce protectiveness was at a peak, so Papi let it be. Instead, she offered Harry a sweet wave. “Sleep tight, cutie. If you need me, just call, okay?”

“Thanks, Miss Papi,” he answered, giving her a small wave back.

Miia led Harry upstairs, her tail spiraling behind them. Once in the bedroom—the same space she shared with him—she carefully tucked him into the bed that had been lowered for easy access. She fussed over the pillow’s position, the blanket’s weight, everything. Harry nearly giggled at her overprotectiveness, but he recognized that she was doing it because of the day’s scare. Once he was comfortably settled, Miia sank onto the bed, coiling around to form a cushion for him.

“Miss Miia,” he began timidly after a few moments, “I’m sorry about what happened. I… I shouldn’t have gone so far to hide.”

She brushed her fingers across his cheek. “No, love, it’s not your fault,” she said, a hint of sadness in her voice. “It was that awful man’s doing. You were just playing a game.” She exhaled. “I’m the one who should’ve paid more attention. From now on, we’ll be extra careful, okay? No more straying where we can’t see you.”

He nodded, blinking back tears. “Alright.”

A short silence stretched. Miia smoothed his hair again, her gaze flicking to the door as though pondering the new occupant downstairs. “Harry… are you upset that Centorea said… that about adopting you?”

He thought for a moment, chewing his lip. “No. She’s nice. I liked riding on her back. It made me feel… safe.” His voice grew softer. “But I don’t want you to feel upset. You and Miss Papi saved me too, from the Dursleys.”

Miia’s eyes clouded with emotion. “I’m not upset at you, darling. It’s just… seeing you almost get taken… it reminded me how precious you are to me. And the idea of another person calling you ‘my child’ made me—” She stopped herself, struggling to articulate. “I guess I’m just worried that maybe you won’t need me if you have her. Silly, right?”

Harry, shocked, shook his head vehemently. “I… I’ll always need you, Miss Miia. You’re like my—” He paused. “I guess you’re like a mum, or something. A mother figure. But you’re not mean or anything like the Dursleys said mothers were.” He swallowed hard. “I love you.”

Miia’s chest felt tight as tears threatened her eyes. She scooted closer, hugging him gingerly so as not to disturb his bruises. “I love you too, sweet boy,” she whispered, voice husky. “I promise, no one can replace you in my life.” She realized the statement might be reversed, but she hoped he understood.

He nodded, letting out a tiny sniffle. She gently wiped away his tears, then hummed a lullaby-like tune. Slowly, his eyelids drooped, exhaustion claiming him once more. Within minutes, he slipped into slumber, breathing softly.

Miia stayed there, watching him in the dim light. Even after he was fully asleep, she lingered, letting her tail coil in protective arcs around the bed. She replayed the day’s events in her mind, heart still pounding at the memory of discovering him missing. She’d do anything to keep that from happening again. She only hoped that this new addition, Centorea, wouldn’t bring more complications than they could handle.

Downstairs, Papi had crashed on a comfortable chair, wings dangling over the sides. She occasionally muttered about “cutie” and “no more hide-and-seek.” Kimihito wearily cleaned up the dinner plates, glancing at Centorea. She had settled on a folded pile of blankets near the living room corner, trying to rest her horse body without knocking anything over. The space was cramped, but she made do, quiet and reflective. Every so often, Kimihito caught her gazing at the ceiling, lost in thought, as though her mind was far away. Maybe in the fields she used to roam, maybe on that moment she’d plucked Harry from danger. He decided not to disturb her.

Eventually, the house sank into silence, each occupant retreating into uneasy dreams or fitful rest. Outside, a crescent moon hung low over the rooftops, silvering the half-finished expansions. A stray cat prowled by the fence, and a gentle breeze rustled the bushes. All was calm for now.

But the next morning dawned with more bustle. The renovation crew arrived, setting up saws and materials in the yard to begin constructing a stable-like extension for Centorea. They hammered away at walls, measuring new door frames tall enough for her. Miia woke to the clamor, bleary-eyed but quickly remembering that Harry needed to be fed and comforted. She found him already awake, gazing out the window in curiosity.

“Morning, sweetie,” she said, stifling a yawn. “We have a busy day, it seems.”

He turned to her with a faint smile. “They’re building something for Miss Centorea, right?” He paused, nibbling his lip. “So… she’ll stay?”

Miia coiled around the bed, shrugging. “Yes. She’ll be staying. We’ll have to figure out living arrangements, but it looks like she’s set on protecting you.” She sighed, letting her gaze soften. “I guess it’s not such a bad thing, having a knight in shining armor around.”

Harry giggled softly. “Yeah… She’s a real knight, huh?”

“Something like that.” Miia ruffled his hair, then led him downstairs.

In the living room, Centorea stood off to the side, still somewhat in the way of the workers. She apologized repeatedly as men tried to measure the angles of her horse body for the stable layout, which caused Miia and Papi to stifle laughter. Kimihito had to direct traffic, ensuring the renovations went smoothly.

Harry went to the kitchen table, where Miia whipped up a quick breakfast of eggs and toast, letting Papi garnish them with fruit. Even after all the drama, something about that daily routine made Harry feel at peace. A sense that, despite the ongoing chaos, he had a family now. Or multiple mother figures, even if they sometimes squabbled.

When they all sat down (or stood, in Centorea’s case), Ms. Smith arrived—again. She breezed in, ignoring the construction noise, and sipped a fresh coffee. “Good news,” she declared, “the police think they have a lead on your kidnapper’s location. They’re questioning suspects. You’re safer now.” She paused, glancing at Harry. “But do keep an eye out.”

Harry nodded solemnly, a small shiver ghosting through him. Miia placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Centorea, overhearing, offered a protective glare as if ready to charge after the man.

Smith went on, “Anyway, keep it together, folks. Looks like we’ll have more new additions eventually. Government’s big on placing monsters with Mr. Kimihito here.” She tapped her phone. “I have half a mind to drop a slime on you next. Or maybe a mermaid. The possibilities are endless.” She seemed to relish the idea of stirring chaos.

Kimihito rolled his eyes. “Please warn us beforehand,” he grumbled. “We’re still adjusting to three extraspecies—and that’s not even counting Harry.”

The mention of a slime caused Miia to frown, though only half with concern. “A slime? I’ve heard they can slip in anywhere. That might be tricky.”

Papi, nibbling fruit, giggled. “Maybe we’ll have a slip-and-slide party!” She flapped her wings, splashing bits of juice around. Miia gave her a mild scowl, making Harry giggle.

Centorea, standing behind them, listened quietly. The idea of more extraspecies joining the household gave her pause, but she simply nodded in acceptance. So long as Harry was safe, she would stand guard. No matter how many new arrivals turned up, her vow remained firm.

Soon, Smith left again, vanishing in her usual abrupt manner. The renovation crew hammered away, raising wooden frames to create a high-ceiling extension at the back of the house. They explained it would have large double doors opening onto the yard, perfect for Centorea to move in and out comfortably. For now, though, the banging of nails and saws droned on, making conversation difficult. Harry found himself covering his ears at times, while Papi perched on the couch, complaining about the noise to no one in particular.

Miia helped sort out lunch, which ended up being a quick, scattered affair with so many people occupying the yard. Then, in the mid-afternoon, the crew took a break. By that time, Harry was eager for something calmer. Papi suggested playing a board game. Miia offered her usual watchful presence, reminding them to keep the pieces away from the sawdust or the newly cut wood strewn about. Kimihito was busy outside, talking with the foreman.

Centorea lingered near the living room, occasionally glancing at Harry while he and Papi played. Every so often, she asked, “Is your arm all right?” or “Do you need anything?” Miia watched from across the table, forcing herself not to bristle each time the centaur gave motherly attention to Harry. In truth, seeing how gently Centorea spoke to him, how she listened intently whenever he tried to explain a rule of the game, softened Miia’s defenses a little.

Harry appreciated both of them, trying not to show favoritism. If Papi teased him by fluffing his hair with her wing, he’d grin. If Centorea asked if he was in pain, he’d reassure her, and thank her for the concern. Miia occasionally placed a hand on his shoulder, silently reminding him that she was always there. He soaked in the warmth of it all, still marveling at how different it was from his old life.

Eventually, evening set in once more. The crew packed up their tools, promising to return in a few days to add finishing touches. They’d constructed a rudimentary stable-like annex for Centorea, which connected to the living room via wide, sliding doors. The final installation was incomplete, but at least it would grant her privacy and enough room to stretch her horse body. She tested it out, offering quiet thanks to each worker.

When they left, the house returned to relative calm. Miia prepared dinner again, with Kimihito’s help. Papi insisted on carrying plates to the table, while Harry scurried around, trying to help in small ways. Centorea quietly asked if she could assist, but her large frame made the kitchen crowded, so Kimihito suggested she wait in her new extension. After dinner, they all reconvened, and though they had to spread out, a sense of contentment settled over them. Even Miia, who’d been so wary, relaxed somewhat, seeing that Centorea really only wanted to ensure Harry’s safety.

That night, when it came time for bed, Centorea slipped through the newly installed door into her stable-like room. There was hay for cushioning—Kimihito had bought some in a hurried trip to a local farm supply store—and a thick mat on which she could place her torso. She tested it, nodding in approval. Meanwhile, Miia guided Harry upstairs, Papi trailing them.

Before turning in, Harry paused at the top of the stairs. He glanced down at Centorea’s extension, from which a sliver of light shone. A faint swirl of guilt touched him. “Should I say goodnight to her?” he asked Miia softly.

Miia hesitated, then gave him a gentle nod. “If you want. I’ll come with you.”

So they descended again, stepping onto the threshold of the stable room. Centorea, who had been removing parts of her armor, startled slightly, then relaxed upon seeing Harry. She bowed her head. “Young one, do you require anything?”

Harry stepped forward, mindful of the bits of hay. “I just wanted to say goodnight,” he said, voice soft. “And… thanks again. For saving me.”

Centorea smiled, a warm, genuine expression. “You have no need to thank me repeatedly. My vow stands. But I appreciate your kind words.” She reached out slowly, as though seeking permission, and gave his shoulder the lightest touch. “Sleep well.”

Harry glanced at Miia, who stood behind him. She nodded, so he leaned forward and gave Centorea a quick hug around her waist. Her horse body tensed in surprise, but she relaxed instantly, patting his back gently. “Goodnight, Miss Centorea,” he murmured.

Miia offered a strained smile. “Yes… goodnight,” she added, giving a polite dip of her head.

Centorea inclined her head in return. “Goodnight, Miss Miia.” She watched them leave, her gaze lingering on Harry’s small form as it vanished up the stairs.

Returning to the bedroom, Harry changed into his pajamas, Miia helping him with the shirt since his wrists were still sore. She tucked him into bed, stroking his hair back from his forehead. Papi hovered near, fidgeting. She clearly wanted to say something but didn’t know how. Finally, she hopped forward, hugging Harry carefully.

“I’m so sorry about yesterday,” she said for what might have been the hundredth time. “I promise I won’t let you out of my sight again when we’re playing.” Tears shimmered in her wide eyes.

Harry hugged her back. “It’s okay, Miss Papi. We’ll be more careful next time.”

Miia watched them quietly, warring with old resentments from that day. She suppressed them, reminding herself that Papi felt terrible already. “Alright, Harry, rest,” she said, coaxing Papi to step back. “We’re all here if you need anything.”

Harry let out a contented sigh, snuggling into the pillow. As he drifted off, a small smile curved his lips. Despite the nightmare of nearly being kidnapped, he felt safer than ever, lulled by the presence of his new, growing family. Miia hummed softly, a tune that Papi quietly joined with a few lilting notes of her own. The night stretched on, peaceful in its hush.

In the deepest hours, when the household slumbered, something else stirred near the edges of the newly constructed annex. A slimy, amorphous shape, faintly luminous in the moonlight, oozed through a crack in the wall where the construction wasn’t fully sealed. It slithered silently across the floor, curious, drawn by the warmth and the presence of multiple living beings. This creature was Suu, the slime who had been lurking around the neighborhood, watching the curious household that hosted so many interesting species.

Unseen, Suu crept through the living room, leaving little glistening spots where her jelly-like body touched the floor. She was oddly attracted to the quiet sound of breathing from the upstairs region. The half-finished expansions gave her plenty of cracks to explore, slipping between them with little effort. Before long, she found herself at the top of the stairs, peeking under the bedroom door. She sensed comfort, safety… and a particularly warm energy source. Slimes, after all, felt drawn to moisture and warmth.

Careful not to make noise, Suu tested the door. It wasn’t fully latched. She slid inside, a quivering blob with a vague feminine shape. In the gentle moonlight that streamed through the bedroom window, she caught sight of a small bed holding a small occupant—Harry. Nearby was Miia, coiled on a makeshift extension for her tail, and Papi curled in a second bed. Both breathed softly in rhythmic sleep. Suu inched forward, making barely a whisper of sound.

Harry stirred, not fully awake, but perhaps sensing a presence near him. The slime reached the bedside, then extended a small pseudopod to gently poke at the blanket. A tiny droplet of the slime’s body made contact with Harry’s hand. He let out a soft mumble, half-lost in dreams. Suu’s body wobbled, curiosity intensifying. She wanted to see if this warmth was food, or a friend, or both. Gently, she eased up onto the bed, sliding a portion of her translucent form near Harry’s side. The boy shifted, eyebrows twitching, but did not wake. Instead, he unconsciously leaned toward the warmth.

Suu gurgled quietly, as though pleased. She nestled alongside him, her slime adjusting to his shape. If one peered closely, one might see a faint smile on Harry’s lips, as though the slime’s cool but strangely comforting embrace lulled him further into rest.

And so ended the day—a bizarre household now hosting a silent slime intruder, who snuggled with the very child whose safety had been threatened only hours before. No one woke to notice her presence. But come dawn, they would discover her unexpected arrival, likely in a flurry of shrieks and comedic chaos. That, however, was a matter for another day. For now, the house remained in peaceful slumber, each occupant forging new bonds—Miia, Papi, Centorea, Kimihito, and, unbeknownst to them, the curious slime named Suu— all drawn together by the presence of a small boy who had, in so little time, changed all their lives forever.