Disclaimer: I do not own POT.

Sakuno's Son

Four-year old Takeshi woke up to the light sound of the pitter-pattering of the rain. His small room was dark and his light blue curtains were swooshing about with the breeze. With a pout on his pink lips, he pushed himself up, rubbed his drowsy eyes, and looked around his room in search for his stuffed giraffe, Ralph the Giralph. When he found his pet toy lying with his blanket designed with little stars and spaceships and rockets on the floor beside his bed, he laid back into his bed and rolled over, his arms together and his eyes open in delight as he rolled and rolled into the floor from on top his comfy bed- stopping exactly where his pet giraffe was.

Taking the giraffe into his arms, he gave his dear friend a tight hug before getting on all fours to steadily stand up. His ebony hair was frayed and his face was pale due to the cold rushing into his room from the light drizzling outside. His door was slightly opened, a ray of yellow light was seeping in from the lights in the kitchen. Walking towards his door, hoping for the delicious smell of his breakfast, he brought up a hand and pulled open his door.

"Takeshi-chan!" His mother called out in surprise. Her auburn hair was in a braid although frayed. She was wearing a light blue apron and those fluffy indoor slippers he always stole from her to wear himself. He loved how soft they felt in his small feet. Taking a step out of his room, the corners of his lips lightly tugged upwards. The smell of his morning breakfast, pancakes with melted chocolate, finally came rushing in. His mother was not rich, most of the time she would sit on the kitchen table depressed as she sorted their bills. But nevertheless, for him, she would always put on a smile. Even when he was awful, crying and ranting about a toy or when he was sick or when he lost Ralph, she always helped him with a loving smile. She was kind and gentle, even though she was alone.

Takeshi can never recall if he ever had a father, most of his friends seemed to have one. But it didn't mind him one bit. He had a pseudo-father, as the man would jokingly tell him. When he first met Ryoma Echizen, they had been at a park, him and his mother. Tightening his hold onto his mother's hand, and with his brows furrowing defensively, he asked the man who he was in a sharp tone. But before the adult with the coy smile could answer him, his mother had already swept him into her arms, rocking him. At first, he didn't like the man. One day he would be in their house, then the next he would be gone. This went on for almost four months. Then on the start of the fifth, he left and never came back again. It has been over three months since then.

His mother told him she was sorry. He had misunderstood. Ryoma Echizen had only been a tenant of their spare room. And because of his money, he had paid more than what was asked of him, they were doing fine financially. He was a good man, and one of her oldest friends. He would visit eventually, she told him gently as she fixed his hair that day. Ever since then, he had stopped asking about the man with the perpetual smirk on his face.

So that morning, with warmth enveloping him, he propped himself into a chair and gingerly placed Ralph on the seat beside him. His stomach grumbled lightly, telling him to feed it soon with those scrumptious pancakes. With the clanging of the kitchenware, an indication that his mother was done cooking, he turned to her as she came to, with a plate of pancakes. It seemed like forever since she last made a batch. His mother must have noticed the glitters in his eyes because she laughed when she saw him. She didn't need to ask how many he wanted. She already knew, and thus, placed three into his plate and pushed the bottle of syrup nearer to him. Sitting beside him, she satisfied herself with watching him gulf down his food. It was about eight in the morning.

Takeshi was happily eating his second batch, just one pancake more he told his mother who in turn looked at him disapprovingly. Nevertheless, she couldn't say no. It was during then that their doorbell rang. Patting her son's head lightly, Sakuno stood up and walked towards the door. As soon as she took a glance into the peephole, she unchained her doors immediately.

"Ryoma-kun!" She cried, finding the man on her doorstep horribly drenched. From the kitchen, Takeshi turned, stopping from his meal.

"Ryo-chichi!" The boy greeted with a mouth full of pancake. The handsome man of twenty-four turned to him with a lopsided smile and waved. His body was trembling and his face was pale. Again, Sakuno cried.

"What happened to you?" Among others she wanted to cry out in question as well. But before the freezing ebony-haired man could give her an answer, she was already dashing off to get him a towel. Ryoma, afraid to step in and drench Sakuno's floorboards as well, was ushered in by Takeshi who suddenly appeared before him, holding out and above his head a plate of warm pancakes as if an offering. Sakuno returned and wrapped the towel over his broad shoulders. With a plate on his hands and a towel on his back, Ryoma walked in, both ushered in by Takeshi and his mother.

Ryoma placed down the plate of pancakes on the kitchen table. Then, running a hand on Takeshi's frayed hair, looked around for Sakuno. He frowned, finding her gone again. Her voice suddenly rang from the washroom.

"I'm running you a hot bath!" She said.

"Tha—thanks!" He croaked. Then, running a hand through his own hair, he let out a heavy quivering breath.

"Pancakes?"

"Maybe later, Ta-kun." Ryoma told the little boy with a small smile. He looked jittery as he left to go to where Sakuno was. Takeshi trailed after the man, after stuffing in a handful of pancake into his mouth. Ralph, he had left with a plate of pancakes.

"The bath's almost done." Sakuno said, smiling as she looked up to the newcomer. She was on the floor kneeling beside the bathtub, her hands were in it to check the temperature. Ryoma nodded, stopping by the frame of the door. Takeshi appeared next to the tall man with his mouth stuffed full, earning a gaping look of surprise from his mother. She stood up, about to take him into her arms and back to the kitchen. But before she could reach him, Ryoma had already swept the young lad into his arms. And with a smirk, directed haughtily to Sakuno, he embraced the child.

Then, finally, after a while, with Takeshi's short arms around his neck, Ryoma said softly amidst the sound of running water.

"Tadaima."

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