Disclaimer: Nope.

A/N: I read in the FF wiki that Rosch was playing with Dajh while Jihl and Sazh were talking. One thing lead to another, and, well. This. Happened.

Also I have a tremendously soft spot for Rosch.

Obviously spoilers for Sazh's backstory.

Yaag Rosch wasn't one to question the fal'Cie's benevolence, but at the moment, he was cursing whatever god or goddess or fal'Cie or something that had made him build towers with a six-year-old l'Cie.

"Rash!"

...Who also couldn't pronounce his name.

Tearing his eyes away from a smirking Jihl as she looked at him, he glanced back to the child in front of him. Dajh had just knocked down a pillar of blocks, and was happily giggling away to himself, flapping his arms about and rolling on the floor.

"I knocked them all down! The fal'Cie got them!"

"My name is Rosch," he said, tiredly. "Place extra focus on the beginning."

"Raaaash." Dajh giggled again, grinning.

He was tempted to slam his head against a hard object, but Jihl would never let him hear the end of it. He could imagine her voice taunting him, "What good will you be on the battlefield if you can't even look after a child? Hmm?"

"Rash!" Dajh whined. "Can you help me make the tower again? Please?"

Rosch glanced over to the window again. The father – Sazh – looked as if he was maniacal, what with all of the flailing his arms were doing. Surely she didn't already tell him about the boy's Focus? They weren't even certain of what it was!

"Not until you call me Rosch."

"Swag?"

"Swag!?" Oh goddess. "You mean Yaag."

"You have a really weird name."

"Dajh isn't exactly the number one name for male children, either," Rosch snapped. "Now, for the love of the fal'Cie, can you please just pronounce my name correctly?"

His face furrowed in thought. "But it's really hard."

"I'm sure that you can do it. You're a smart boy, correct? You must be if the fal'Cie chose you."

"Really?"

"Yes, really." He picked up a toy brick and waved it in front of the boy's face. "I will happily play with you-" Lies. "-If you can pronounce my name."

"Which one?"

"Whatever one you'll struggle with less."

"But both of them are really hard!"

"As you have said countless times. It's not that hard. My parents could pronounce it easily enough."

"Well, duh."

"Dajh, just say my name."

"Tonberry!" he shrieked. "Y-you're the tonberry! That's your name!"

It took Rosch a few seconds to realise what Dajh was saying. "...What?"

"Y-you're the scary monster! Daddy says that you're really bad!"

"The tonberry does not exist."

"But you exist! A-and you have the knife!" Dajh poked his finger at the saber hanging by his side. He fearfully scrambled backwards until he reached the back of the small room, looking ready to wet himself.

"Please don't have an accident," Rosch muttered. "I'm not very experienced in that area."

"But the knife-"

"-Is a saber." He drew the weapon, silently praying that neither of the adults would look through the window and get the wrong idea. He held it out to Dajh, who whimpered at the sight. "See? It's a saber, not a knife. Much too large for that."

Hesitantly taking it, Dajh then toppled over. "It's heavy!" came out his muffled voice. Rosch gently lifted him off the ground onto a sitting position and took the saber away from him.

"Only special adults as myself can-"

The door slammed open. "Director Rosch," came Jihl's icy voice. "Would you care to explain why the child had your weapon? I glance out of the window, expecting a normal scene, and what am I instead greeted with? A child holding a dangerous weapon, and not by the hilt."

Sazh peeked his head around the door frame. "Is Dajh alright!?"

"Daddy!" Dajh shouted, already beginning to scramble over, racing past Rosch. "Daddy!"

Suddenly, Jihl whipped out her saber like thunder and held it at the door frame. "I am still talking to your father. Has playing with Rosch made you lose all sense of manners, hmm? Can't blame you. That man is as mannerless as he is lacking in abilities, and that is quite an impressive feat." She smirked at Rosch before sliding her weapon away. "Now, Sazh; if you won't mind following me."

"I can't see him?" Sazh asked, sounding desperate. "Not even for a minute?"

"I'm afraid not. Come on." As Sazh slid out of the room, shoulders hunched down, she stopped to throw a look at Rosch. "And, Rosch? What exactly was happening?"

"Dajh accused me of being a tonberry."

"He isn't!" Dajh cried, then, suddenly, he leapt onto Rosch's chest and knocked him over. "Rash's a nice man! You're the tonberry!"

"Rash?" Jihl sneered. "Most honest one yet. Well, really, rashes at least know when to go away."

"Dajh," Rosch wheezed, struggling to recover from his sudden winding. "Don't say things like that. Save the truth for men such as myself to speak."

She cracked her weapon on her open palm, scowling heavily. "Don't encourage an active imagination, Rosch. Goodness knows how much more out-of-hand it can possibly get."

"I don't see what is imaginative about speaking the truth," Rosch replied coolly.

It was several seconds before a shocked-looking Jihl spoke. "Don't expect to see any pay for this month," she snapped, slamming the door shut. Rosch smirked. Finally, he'd insulted her to the point of rage! Hopefully, she wouldn't take it out on the poor father.

Now, to get other business out of the way.

"Dajh, please get off of me."

"No!" came the happy reply, followed by giggling. "I'm really tall!"

"You are sitting on my chest."

As if to prove his point, Dajh bounced up and down. Rosch wheezed painfully as the boy slammed down. "This is fun!"

"I won't have any lungs left to bounce you at this rate!"

"Okay!" Dajh rolled onto the ground, laughing. "Rash, help me build a tower! You got me off... off-topic!"

"I'm more surprised that you know that word. And you were the person who began to call me a tonberry."

"No I wasn't!"

"Yes, you were."

"Nuh-uh, I wasn't."

"Yes, you were."

Suddenly, Dajh smacked his armour. "Tag! You're it!"

...This was going to be a very long day.