"The school called today."
Yamamoto glanced up from his meal. His father had eaten earlier, but sat at the table doing the restaurant's accounts to keep him company. He didn't look up after speaking, and his voice was low.
Yamamoto winced. "It's not about that history test, is it?" Even his dad had limits when it came to his marks, and the history test was likely to hit that rock bottom.
"Hm. You can study hard and make up for it later, when you aren't distracted by that arm." Normally something like that would be said with a sly look; Dad liked teasing him. Tonight his voice stayed serious.
"It was something about a trick you played during lunchtime. They said that you were trying to make it look like you were going to jump off the roof. Actually, they said you did, except you didn't get hurt."
At some point Yamamoto's gaze had fallen away from his father's and got stuck on the table. He traced a whorl in the grain of the wood and swallowed. "Aah, I didn't want to say anything... It's nothing to worry about."
"You're not the type to go messing around on rooftops like that," his father said.
"No," Yamamoto said. "Nope. Not anymore. Not at all."
"I get it. I do. But ... you know that arm will get better. It's only a sprain, and you heal fast."
Yamamoto nodded. He'd known that this morning, too, but that hadn't been the point. Thinking about it made it feel like a memory from long ago that had stayed unusually clear; he remembered exactly what he'd thought, but couldn't understand anymore how it had made sense.
"There's only one thing you could do that would mean nothing will get better." His father's voice had become a plea, and Yamamoto nodded sharply to stop the sound.
"It's all right," he said uncertainly, trying to reassure. "...I'm all right."
His father cleared his throat. "You're a good boy, Takeshi."
"I won't - not again - Dad, I'm-"
His father closed the accounts ledger with a thump, and they looked up to meet each other's eyes.
"I think I made a new friend," Yamamoto said. "Tsuna's a great guy. I think he's the first good friend I've made that doesn't play baseball."
"Oh? I bet you'll run out of things to talk about by tomorrow!"
"I'm not that single-minded, old man!"
His father laughed and then got up and planted a smacking kiss on the crown of his head, as if he were five again. Yamamoto shook his head like a dog getting dry, surprised, and his dad ruffled his hair. "You'll get better. Don't worry."
"I'm fine right now," said Yamamoto, grinning up in pleasure at all the truth in it. At meeting his eyes, his dad at last looked completely like himself, no worry or discomfort at all, and grinned back.