"Dad, can you tell me how you and daddy met?" Little Safu questioned one warm, spring afternoon, grinning eagerly. She loved it when Shion told her stories. It had to be the same with Nezumi, right? He is an actor, after all.
Nezumi blinked over at her from where he stood at the stove (cooking her up a snack until Shion came home with more groceries for dinner, anyway), the only sound filling the kitchen being the hot sizzle of cooking scrambled eggs. "Ah… well," He cleared his throat, trying to compile the right sentences in his brain, though he couldn't think of anything that sounded less awkward than the actual event, itself. "Well, we were both twelve years old at the time. Shion was a total airhead — he still is — and threw open the window in the middle of a typhoon. He did this hilarious stunt where he raced out onto the balcony and screamed with all his might into the winds, assuming that nobody heard him. Hah! But I did. Oh, I sure did." Nezumi grinned, his eyes clouding distantly with remembrance.
"What were you doing there?" Safu questioned, kicking her legs under the table and resting her baby face atop crossed arms, peering up at him with an adorable curiosity that made his heart honestly melt a little.
"Planning my next move. I was, uh… an escaped convict. Well, at least they labeled me as that. And I just, kind of… climbed up to his deck and went inside. His open doors were an invitation to me…" Nezumi glared and mentally slapped himself. What a bad influence he was, telling his child this. Next thing he knows, she'll be throwing doors and windows all over the place in their house like it was no big deal and not get an invitation for love, but a murder. Honestly.
Nezumi turned to her after a rather long, awkward silence at the story, and just as awkwardly brandished his spatula at her, panic settling in at her thoughtful expression. "Don't you dare open any windows for anything, Safu, I mean it. Shion was just stupid."
"But now you're married!"
"He's still stupid. Don't do it."
