His mother had been furious, as he recalled.

"Augh! Yoichi, your hair!"

"Where are my scissors – and now you're going to be late for school…!"

"How did this happen?"

"I don't know how I'm going to get all of this out…this is why I told you to make sure you spit out that gum before you went to bed last night, Yoichi!"

He hadn't wanted to, though. After all, Dad had given him that stick of gum and taught him how to blow a bubble with it last night. Actually, Dad had given him a different piece of gum, but Yoichi'd accidentally blown that one right out of his mouth and onto the arm of the couch on his first try, so he'd gotten another piece and another shot.

Chomp, chomp, chomp.

"You're going to bite your tongue in half if you keep chewing like that."

"Hehehe, no way, Dad." Chomp, chomp, chomp.

"Now stretch it over your tongue like I told you and blow again, but not as hard this time."

That time, he'd poked his tongue through the gum. Dad had grinned and told him to do it again, but don't stretch it as thin this time. Yoichi's eyes had crossed in concentration as he tried a third time, his eyebrows drawn and his face turning ever so slightly red. Dad had smothered a laugh, teased him a bit for thinking about it so hard, but on that third try – carefully, carefully, little Yoichi blew, and a small, lopsided bubble had appeared in front of his face.

Yoichi's eyes had widened and he'd almost let the gum drop in his excitement. Dad had laughed out loud this time. "There you go, Yoichi, you got it!"

He'd sucked the gum back into his mouth so fast he'd almost swallowed it – he couldn't wait to try it again. Chomp, chomp, chomp. "Hehehe, of course I got it, Dad!" Chomp, chomp, chomp. Stretch it over your tongue but not too thin, and blow carefully…another lopsided bubble, and right as Mom had walked by. It was hard to talk around a bubble, but that didn't stop him from trying. "Mom, I gah ihh!"

Mom had looked over and smiled a little. "Ah, you blew a bubble! Good job, Yoichi! Just remember to spit it out before you go to bed, all right?"

No answer, as Yoichi had more important things on his mind, like Bubble #3. Dad had just grinned and watched. Bubble #3 was admittedly a lot smaller than Bubbles #1 and 2, but it was a lot rounder. Yoichi had figured that probably meant it was better. After all, if you were good enough to make sure the bubble was really round, it meant that you were good enough of a bubble-blower to control the shape, right? That meant the most important thing was to make sure he could blow a bubble as big as he wanted, as round as he wanted, and whenever he wanted.

And so a silent hour had passed, disturbed only by the occasional pop or snap of gum, with Dad on one side of the couch and Yoichi on the other, his bubble gum prowess steadily growing. He'd kept on chewing that piece as he put on his pajamas, hidden it in his hand as he brushed his teeth, and stuck it back in his mouth once Mom had tucked him in and turned out the lights. Then he'd lain in the dark, still chewing, still blowing, still popping that gum, until his sleepy eyes closed.

When he came downstairs the next morning, he'd half-forgotten about falling asleep with the gum in his mouth. Mom's shriek had very quickly reminded him. By the time she was done chopping it all out of his hair, he had been ten minutes behind schedule and the spiky, hedgehog-y mess he was left with would have been difficult to describe as a style. He'd caught a glance of it in a store window on the way to school, though, and he kind of liked the way it looked. Maybe Mom would let him keep it that way…

Hiruma blinked. That was a whole fucking lot of reminiscing, especially about the old man, even more so about that long ago. At least it wasn't completely out of nowhere. He grinned down at the earnest-looking face staring back up at him and took a knee to be closer to its owner's height.

"Just one," he cautioned, holding his pack of gum out. The boy nodded and carefully removed exactly one stick. Hiruma pulled out a piece for himself and popped it into his mouth, watching with no little amusement as the child copied his every move exactly: unwrap the gum halfway, stick it in your mouth, chew as you crumple the wrapper up. As if on cue, Mamori appeared around the corner, carrying a load of still-damp laundry towards the clothesline in the back yard.

"Oh!" she said. "You let him have some gum…!"

"Just one, Mama!" The boy spun around, hurriedly reassuring her of the innocence of the whole scenario. "And I promise I won't stick it anywhere!"

Hiruma looked up at her, holding her gaze steadily, a wicked grin on his face. "That's right, just one!" he echoed.

Her uncertainty broke with a sigh and a smile. "All right, but I'd better not find that gum anywhere but your mouth or the trash, young man."

The boy's eyes lit up. "I promise!"

Hiruma laughed. "You listen to your mother, or your hair will wind up looking like mine!"

The boy turned back to face Hiruma. "Hahaha, no way, Dad."

Mamori couldn't help but shake her head. "I knew this day was coming eventually," she said as she headed towards the back door. "I'll keep the scissors ready. He is, after all, your son."

Hiruma rose to his feet and, ruffling the boy's hair as he passed, crossed to his wife and caught her apron tails. "He's your son, too," he corrected, still grinning. She blushed a little as he leaned in close. He could still make her blush – he loved that. He leaned even closer. The boy was too busy chomping away at his gum to notice his parents, but even so, Hiruma kept his voice low.

"Fucking manager," he added in a whisper before diving in to smother her protests with a kiss.