This is like, an apology for the sad new Stutter chapter.
Sixty-one
Takeru was shivering. His hands were damp from the snow melting through his thin mittens. His nose was running. His toes were angry that he wasn't wearing any socks inside his snow boots. Despite this, the little boy kept scraping every bit of snow from the balcony.
The door behind him slid open with an angry snap.
"Takeru, what on earth are you doing out here? You need to be getting ready for school," His mother admonished.
Takeru shuffled over and held out his hands at the lump of snow he had molded from the meager inch and a half that had fallen overnight.
"Look, Mom! I made Patamon!"
Sixty-two
Natsuko withheld a moan. Her head had been aching since she woke up and forcing herself to work through it had only raised the ache to a steady throb. A clank from the kitchen sent a skewer of pain through her temple.
Soft footsteps circled around to where she lay on the couch, and then one of the cushions dipped.
"Here you go Mom," Her son whispered.
The smell of tea wafted over her and she felt the muscles in her neck relax. Takeru picked up the cold cloth that sat on her forehead and turned it over, dropping a tiny kiss to her hair before replacing it.
"Thanks, baby."
Sixty-three
"Oh, come one, come on… focus!" Hiroaki huffed out when he heard the front door open. "Darn camera's a piece of junk- No, Takeru! Don't touch it yet!"
Water soaked into the knees of his jeans from the bathroom floor, but he ignored it.
"Hiroaki?" Natsuko was coming down the hall. "Are the kids still up? I thought you promised they would be in bed by the time I got home?"
"We're working on it!" He called out the cracked door, waving for the boys to stop giggling. Hiroaki couldn't tell if they were in trouble or not and it was better to be safe than sorry.
The door was pushed open a moment later, and the disappointed expression on his wife's face melted at the sight awaiting her. Takeru and Yamato sat in a sea of bubble bath, suds piled high on top of their heads and fluffy white beards dripping off their chins.
"We uh, got distracted."
Sixty-four
Takeru wasn't sure what woke him, but for once it wasn't a nightmare. He rolled over and stretched, a warm breeze rolling in from the open window and brushing where his night shirt rode up. The boy let out a contented sigh, a quick peek at the alarm clock confirming that he had hours before he needed to be up.
Pushing himself up on his elbows, he fluffed his pillow and let his head flop back down onto it.
"Mmm… Takeru?" Patamon murmured, his voice thick with sleep. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah, bud," The boy breathed, pulling his partner closer. "Everything's fine."
Sixty-five
Hiroaki's head snapped up when Natsuko walked into the bedroom.
"I thought you said Takeru needed to be supervised when he was painting? You're always on my case if I leave the room, and yet look at you!"
His wife's face puckered.
"I'm not leaving him to take a nap, Hiroaki, I'm just grabbing a pair of socks. He's a good boy, he isn't going to paint the walls or anything in the two seconds I'm gone."
The man slid off their bed and followed her back to the dining area where their youngest sat at the table with his paints.
"See? He's fi- Oh my god, Takeru, why?"
"You're right, Nat," Hiroaki laughed, patting her on the shoulder. "Not a drop on the walls. Not. A. Drop."
Takeru turned in his chair and giggled at them, his entire face bright blue.
I had to cheer myself up somehow