A/N: Written for the PMMM Flash Bingo, #163 – Tomohisa Kaname, and for the Diversity Writing Challenge, a57 – 500 word drabble.
A Father's Musing
The thing about being a parent was watching his children fight battles he couldn't fight for them. It would be Madoka first, probably, because Madoka was the elder one: the one who went to school and hung out with her friends and came home with colourful tales to tell and questions to ask. It might be Tatsuya, with his gurgles and the way he splattered his food on the wall and Tomohisa spends the rest of the day cleaning it off… but he could swather Tatsuya in blankets and keep him safe. Madoka was growing older, seeing more of the world.
And it was Madoka, who suddenly came home asking about wishes and sacrifices and sounding as though there was more to the tale she couldn't share. He didn't ask her to share because that was all part of growing up. She'd take his advice (and her mother's of course, but usually Madoka would make it home first and there'd be Tatsuya and Tomohisa waiting to listen) and choose a path on her own, and later down the road they'd find out the truth of it all… or perhaps they never would. Children grew apart as they grew older and they, as parents, had to let them go because otherwise how would they be adults in this world of trials? How would they get married and have children of their own?
Of course, Madoka was still far too young for that, for going on dates and thinking about marriage and children of her own… or maybe she wasn't. Children grew up so fast, after all, even with their parents watching.
She talked about Sayaka's friend: that poor boy with the dream of a piano on stage and ruined hands. She talked about a girl who'd lost her family in a car crash and cooked cakes to fill the void. She talked about another girl who drifted from place to place, without a family or a home. She talked about sadness and lost dreams and thinks he wished he could have sheltered her from just a little longer… But Madoka was growing up, and sheltering her from all of that would mean sheltering her from the world that would nurture her as well.
He could only give what advice he could, from the experiences of his own youth, and make her breakfast and see her off with a proud and trusting smile – to school, to an outing with her friends – and pray and hope she'd come home every time. And when she ran for her friends in a storm, he had to hope the same. Madoka was a good girl, after all: his girl. He didn't want her out in a storm but he was proud she held her friends in such high regard and he couldn't go out there for her, or after her because Tatsuya was fussing in his lap. He could only watch the storm and pray and hope and wait for her to come back to them.