[No. They're not her father. He's not her father. And he knows that's what she wants, knows that's precisely what he can't give, and it makes his throat smart again when he meets her eyes, big and brown and watery.

The sight makes him think of the banshee, clinging to his coat as she warned him, but he manages not to look away. Manages to hold her gaze.]

Not right now. But we won't be here forever, Nanako. I promise, we'll go back.

[-soon, he almost says. But he can't. It's too uncertain. Too much like a lie.]

For now, we have to hold on. But you're not alone in that. I'm holding on with you.