My dads are complete weirdos.

Hi, my name is Sakata Hikaru and I am the son of Sakata Gintoki and Hijikata Toshiro. I am about to turn ten years old this summer. My favorite hobbies are crayfishing in the river by our house and practicing kendo at my Uncle Shinpachi's dojo. I love my Auntie Kagura and her dog Sadaharu very much. He's very big and I can always ride him in the streets even though my police dad doesn't like it.

Anyway, back to my dads, I call my white-haired permy head father "Dad" and my black-haired mayo-loving father "Papa."

Although they're my dads, sometimes it feels like they're the children in the household. Last week, Dad and Papa got into a big fight in the supermarket because Papa wanted to use mayo as frosting for the strawberry cake.

"Are you insane, Mayora?! The kid is gonna have the sh*ts for a week!"

"Don't curse in front of the k-i-d!" Papa spelled out as if I didn't place first in my elementary school spelling bee. It wouldn't really matter anyway. Uncle Sougo already taught me all the curse words by the time I was seven.

Then they both got into a fist fight in the middle of the cereal aisle and we were all kicked out of the supermarket.

Why does it feel like I have to be the grown up sometimes? I got them to stop fighting when I suggested to have mayo-frosted cupcakes alongside the strawberry cake. Luckily, I have a mayo-loving AND a sweet tooth so I'm really looking forward to my birthday party.

My dads have the weirdest nicknames for each other. Papa calls Dad a slew of "perm-head", "Yorozuya", or "droopy fished-eyed bastard" and Dad yells back with as much force: "tax-stealer", "government dog", or "mayo freak".

But this isn't as bad as what they call each other when they're in a lovey-dovey mood, which is basically as much as when they're in their fighty-mood. As much as Papa always yells at Dad for being at risk as a diabetic, he always calls him "sweetheart" and "honey".

Papa always tries to act like a serious, stoic samurai but he will blush like a tomato when Dad calls him "darling" or "dear." When Dad doesn't think I'm looking, he grabs Papa's butt and calls him "dollface", which is super gross because why would you ever wanna grab anybody's butt? Ew. Papa always tries to punch Dad in the face for this, but my white-haired father dodges with practiced ease and plants a kiss on Papa's lips instead.

My dads are just so icky sometimes.

Yesterday, my friends took me to a haunted house for the first time as a birthday present. I hated it so much.

I didn't want to go but my friends told me that all big kids had to make it out of the haunted house by themselves to prove that they weren't a small brat anymore. I wanted to prove myself! Just like my dads! Papa is the leader of the Shinsengumi, the toughest police force in the city and Dad was one of the greatest samurai in the Joui War! I want to be just like them in the future!

I kept on telling myself the monsters weren't real, but it was just too scary! There were ghosts in long white yukata lurking in the halls of the house and a creepy man in black sunglasses mumbling "Madao, Madao" over and over again. Just when I thought I found my escape, a zombie head with his brains spilling out sprung out of the walls before my escape.

I held back my tears until I got home. I knew I had to be strong and not cry in front of my friends, but when I got into bed, alone that night, the darkness was just so scary. Every little noise in our apartment sounded like the encroaching footsteps of a monster. I couldn't even lock the window to prevent a monster from coming in because what if I needed to get out when a monster bursted through my bedroom door.

I was too scared. I knew I was about to be a big boy now but I didn't want to be alone in the darkness anymore. Silently sliding the door to my parents' room, I crawled inside to their closet. I slowly pulled their clothes down onto the floor and made a warm nest for myself.

"Gin…" I heard my Papa say as he tried to shake my other dad awake, "I think something just came into the room." But Dad only mumbled something unintelligible in response.

Papa rose out of the futon and inched closer to the closet. When he opened the door, he had a slipper in his hand, holding it up and ready to take a swing at whatever monstrosity had sneaked into their room. Like a house slipper could fend off ghosts. When Papa realized it was me, his shoulders dropped. He kneeled down and let out a huge sigh of relief. "Oh… Hikaru, it's just you. What's wrong, sweety, do you have a fever?"

Papa drew closer and connected our foreheads. Immediately, my father's comforting scent enveloped me and I couldn't hold back my tears. Papa smelled like the calligraphy ink he used in his reports and the wooden oak desk he'd always sit in at work. There was a faint trace of cigarette but it didn't bother me. He used to smoke a lot more back in the day. I was told that you never saw my dad without a cigarette in between his lips, but apparently he stopped smoking the day I was born. He still sneaks in a cigarette every now and then when it got stressful at work, but for the most part, he'd gotten rid of his smoking habit for me.

With Papa so close, I couldn't stop myself from wrapping my small arms around his neck. I clung to him like the koalas I had seen at the zoo on my last field trip. His black yukata dampened with the wetness of my tears but he didn't mind. He slowly stood up, gingerly repositioning me in his arms to bring me back to the futon he shared with Dad. Even though I had gotten much bigger since my days in kindergarten, my Mayo-loving father can still carry me like I'm a baby.

Papa placed me gently onto the futon next to my other dad and laid down next to me. My sweet tooth father drew the blanket over the three of us and I never felt more safe than sandwiched between my dads, the two strongest samurai in all of Japan.

My silver-haired father, now more awake, raised himself on one elbow and patted my stomach as tears continued streaming down my face. "Why don't you tell Gin-chan what's wrong."

My face burned with embarrassment but I pushed out the words. My hands were pressed into my eyes, trying to push back the tears. "M—my friends took me to a haunted house and made me go through it alone to prove that I'm a grown up, but now I'm so scared, daddy." I knew I sounded so powerless in my confession.

"I don't feel like a grown up at all. I feel so weak—being scared of the dark."

I felt Papa tensed next to me. "A haunted house?! Which one of those fu—" he tried to say before Dad cut him off with a warning "Toshi."

Dad began rubbing small circles into my chest as hiccups rocked through my body.

"Hikaru-kuuuun, why are you in such a rush to grow up? You know, most adults would kill to be in your shoes. You can read all the shonen jump you want without judgement." My other dad scoffed in amusement.

"But I want to be like you and Papa."

I saw my two dads smile tenderly at my confession.

"You know, Hikaru, there's a difference between fearlessness and courage, right? It's easy to rush into a scary situation, blinded by a lack of fear. But what's even harder is to do the same thing with fear shaking your bones. Courage means that despite your fear, you're able to push through your challenges."

Papa hummed softly in agreement. He placed a warm palm on my face, wiping away the flowing tears. "And what most samurai don't know is that sometimes it takes strength to cry." Although I am still so young, I can tell that what my dads told me was something only learned through tough experience.

Papa continued, "You were really courageous today, Hikaru—for both enduring that haunted house alone and allowing yourself to cry. I know we couldn't have done what you did when we were your age."

Dad stroked my hair, his fingers firm and warm as he carded through my locks. "Do you remember the meaning of your name?"

I nodded. "Yes. It means light."

"Do you know why we named you that?" I shook my head silently, realizing I had never thought to ask.

"Because you're the light of our life, Hikaru," Papa answered for him. A flood of warmth washed over me as my heart swelled with pride and love for my parents.

The rivers of tears in my eyes slowly dried up and both my dads kissed the corners of my eyes, taking the last teardrops away. Exhausted from crying and facing my fears, I fell asleep peacefully, encompassed by the comforting heat of my fathers.

My dads are complete weirdos, but they're my weirdos and I love them to the moon and back.