A/N: Heh. I am deliriously in love with the idea of Sakuno and Horio as parents. Maybe I will write more fic elaborating on this. Also, I want Horio/Sakuno fic. / Someone please fulfill my emptiness!
Disclaimer: All your PoT are belong to Takeshi Konomi.
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Ryoma counts two separate eyebrows, and wonders if the swaddled brat could actually be Horio's, but Horio is proud of this thing like he's proud of his eleven years of tennis experience; something that is definitely undeniably his. He's flitting around the kitchenette, clambering with pots and pans on the stovetop. (And really, he holds a panhandle the same as he holds a racket, still awkward and gawky and still so unaware of it.)
Sakuno doesn't seem to worry over any of this (because if anything, she has changed a little at least. Or maybe she's just accustomed to it by now. As it is, maybe Ryoma is too.) She chuckles and covers it up with the back of her hand, nodding to Momo who will never have a little brat of his own.
Finally the child open its mouth, looking for food, and begins screeching (Horio squawks and rushes over) showing off an impressive pair of lungs that make Ryoma wonder if they're both sure Tomoka Osakada is not the mother. But he guesses if it came out of Sakuno she would know, wouldn't she?
Regardless, as the parents (and Momo) try to pacify the kid, Ryoma thinks if it really does belong to them, then it's rather unfortunate; the baby has little to no chance of ever exhibiting any sort of tennis ability, given the combined talents of its parents. It's too bad.
The teakettle goes off on the other side of the room, and Horio returns to tending to that—but then the brat chucks its rattle, bull's eye, precisely square in the middle of Momo's forehead (he has been bent over cooing at it—and Ryoma knows exactly how annoying this is.) Sakuno immediately scolds, "Sumire!" and apologizes up and down to Momo. Ryoma rethinks things, and maybe the kid does have a shot after all.
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End,
Prodigy Fandork