I needed a break from all the angst I was writing, and this happened. I now have four ongoing stories in my head. Don't fear, Skittles will be finished, and the new Takeru/ Hikari in preschool is still in the works. Some other things might just pop up while you guys wait.

For your reference, size 24 shoes in Japan are the same as children's size three in the US.

One

Hiroaki Ishida closed the front door with care. He crept into the dark apartment, placing his briefcase on the kitchen table. The man walked to the back bedroom and peeked around the corner. The nightlight allowed him to see the mess of blond hair sticking up from the lump on the toddler bed. Hiroaki couldn't help but smile as he tiptoed in and sat gently on his child's mattress. The father reached out and straightened the blankets slightly, listening to the faint sound of his little boy's breathing.

Hiroaki leaned over and pressed a soft his to his two-year-old's forehead. The child squirmed a little, his nose scrunching up. Two blue eyes fluttered open and looked around sleepily. Landing on his father's face, Yamato smiled contentedly.

"Hi Daddy."

Two

Hikari Takaishi stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. She had been so exhausted last night that she had neglected a shower in favor of an extra hour of sleep. Her hair was beyond rumpled and probably wasn't the cleanest. There were obvious sleep lines on the side of her face from her pillowcase, and they even rippled all the way down her left arm. The twenty-six-year-old sighed and worked up a foam brushing her teeth.

Takeru stumbled into the bathroom still half asleep and with a case of bed-head that rivaled Taichi's. To him, she looked like an awfully good resting place. Leaning much of his weight on his wife, he smushed his face into her shoulder and gave the crook of her neck a kiss. Takeru's arms snaked around her and he hugged her tightly.

"Good morning, beautiful."

Hikari snorted out a laugh and sprayed the mirror with toothpaste.

"Hey, handsome."

Three

"Again!" Takeru chirped, clapping his tiny hands together.

Yamato indulged him, putting the brand new harmonica to his lips and giving a long blow.

Takeru squealed at the noise, his face red with excitement.

"Again!"

In the other room, Natsuko made the decision to invest in a good pair of earplugs.

"Again!"

Four

Natsuko Takaishi hurried into the apartment, nearly knocking herself flat on the size twenty-four shoes that were strewn in the doorway. She saved herself by clutching the coatrack somehow. Irritation bubbled inside her.

How many times have I told Takeru to line his shoes up nicely?! She hissed in her head.

Placing her son's (and her own) shoes on the shoerack to the right, she huffed in a deep breath and walked heavy footed into the kitchen.

To her surprise, her son was perched at the kitchen table, filling a tall glass with some juice. The table was sloppily set for two. At each place setting was a small bowl of noodles, an orange and a cookie. The little boy turned as she entered the room, pride glowing on his face.

"Mama! I made dinner!"

A warm smile graced the exhausted woman's face.

"I see that, sweetheart."

Five

Takeru was much smaller than Yamato had been, Hiroaki thought as he held his two week old baby. Almost a full pound lighter, too. But the doctor had claimed that the little boy was perfectly healthy, so they took him home. Even with those assurances, now and then Hiroaki couldn't help but worry. But as Hiroaki watched his second child, those worries were beginning to fade.

Takeru slept better, ate more, and was generally more active than his big brother had been at the same age. Hiroaki thanked his lucky stars over and over again that Takeru was not as picky as Yamato with sleeping conditions. Yamato needed to be constantly rocked and bounced to sleep until he was close to a year old, which was frustrating and tiring for both parents.

The man reclined further on the couch and turned on the television. Takeru was happily drooling on his chest, oblivious to the position change. Hiroaki laughed to himself that two babies that looked so much alike could be so different in temperament. He patted his younger son's tiny back gently and closed his eyes himself.

"Thanks, kiddo."