By
Broadway Person
Tezuka sighed as he wandered the halls of the mansion, looking for his daughter. She was most likely in the kitchen, cooking up something that would taste great, but later you find out the ingredients.
Or in the music room, breaking her fan boys' hearts by dancing very, ahem, suggestively, and then doing nothing to alleviate their suffering.
Or preening in front of the mirror, he reminded himself. He sighed once more. Out of her fathers, one would think that she would act more like her own person, what with them encouraging free expression and whatnot.
He snorted at that thought. Out of himself, Fuji, Sanada, Atobe and Ryoma, she had somehow picked up all of their worst traits.
Atobe's never-ceasing vanity (though it had lessened somewhat when they adopted her 14 years ago); Fuji's sadism (though the tensai swore that she was more brilliant at actually pulling things off then Fuji ever was); Sanada's love of dance (though it was more like pole dancing, now he thought about her style); and Ryoma's brattiness (the horror of her teachers).
As for his worst point, she had gotten the talent to be quiet, yet project many emotions at the same time (though more were negative then actually positive).
The others insisted she was an angel and spoiled her (most notably when Atobe had attempted to convince Tezuka that they should get her a car for her last birthday. Luckily, both Sanada and Ryoma had come to his aid, and they managed to dissuade the diva that giving a rather erratic 14-year-old a car was not a good idea).
She had not inherited their collective tennis ability, preferring to send her emotions into dancing.
Though she did enjoy watching them play tennis every night. Then she would politely excuse herself once their lust became tangible, and banish herself to an opposite corner of the house.
As Tezuka thought on this, he reminded himself, he couldn't forget her better qualities. She had Ryoma's tendency to protect those in need of protecting (thus resulting in the fan boys); Atobe's ability to spot weakness (or insecurity, he was not quite sure), and figure out how to build them up; Fuji's talent at making people laugh at almost anything (a skill Tezuka didn't know Fuji had until they had begun to date); and Sanada's diplomacy.
As for himself, he was not sure, until he pushed open the door to the library and found her sitting on a window seat, reading. The sunlight made her dark hair glow with barely hidden gold strands, and she looked lost in her own world, reading The Silmarrilion Tales for the eightieth time. When she heard the door shut, she looked up, light glinting on her thin glasses. "Hi."
He smiled-a rare occurrence-and was pleased to see her smile back. It hit him then, what she had inherited from him, and perhaps the best quality of all.
His smile.
X Owari