Chapter Thirty Six: The Hand That Rocks The Cradle

Disclaimer: I do not own Eyeshield 21. A little different from my other pieces but I like it.

Song Playing: So Much Like My Dad

Theme 5: Son

She was just cleaning up the last of the dinner dishes when she heard the sound of the front door opening and closing. Glancing at the clock, she couldn't help but smile as it seemed her husband had actually managed to get off of work early for the first time that week. Cheerfully she greeted him and waited to hear his reply. When she received none, she stopped washing and called over her shoulder, "Anata?"

Once again she was met with nothing but silence.

With a frown beginning to mar her face, she turned off the faucet and reached for the dishtowel. Drying her hands she turned around with the intention of leaving the small kitchen to investigate just what was happening only to almost die of a heart attack when she saw a familiar face scowling from his place in the door jam. "Youichi?"

The blond shifted so he was standing at his full height. "Kaasan."

"Why-how?" Heart still thundering in her chest, she leaned back against the sink for support. The dishes long forgotten she gripped the damp cloth so hard her fingers were actually aching. Suddenly it occurred to her that something was probably wrong for him to come home at a time when he knew his father wasn't going to be showing up any time soon. Their small family may not be on the best terms wit each other but that didn't change the fact that her little (sentimentally speaking) boy was home for the first time in a long time. "Is everything alright?"

He strode over and took a seat the dining table. "Fucking peachy keen."

"Oh." At a loss for words as it was clear to her that things far from being 'peachy keen' but knowing that he wasn't going to say anything until he wanted to: she began the uncomfortable act of making awkward small talk with her only child. "How's school?"

"Run by idiots."

Loosening the strangle hold she had on the towel, she moved to take a seat across from him. Slightly numb fingers fiddling with the worn fabric. "And the football? You're still doing that?"

"Yeah. "

She rolled her shoulders a little. "Good team this year?"

He gave a casual shrug and stared out the window. "Bunch of dead beat morons but they're getting there."

A heavy silence crowded the kitchen as tugged at frayed edges and he began twirling a small caliber handgun in his hand that hadn't been there a moment ago. Wracking her brain to think of something, anything, to say to her estranged son she kept coming up with blanks. She knew she had things she wanted to ask, wanted to tell him, things she had thought over the years and put in mental storage to bring up if he ever came back. But now that he was here, within arms distance, she couldn't think of a single thing to tell him.

Thus the silence remained.

Fortunately he spoke again before she began to resort to talk about the weather. "She's leaving."

Blinking owlishly, she watched him stop spinning the firearm and carefully place it on the smooth wooden surface. She also rested her hands on the table top. She opened her mouth, closed it, then uttered a small: "What?"

"She said that she's leaving." He ran a hand through his hair. "Out of the blue. No warning. Just she's leaving."

She had no idea where he was going with this. "Youichi, who's leaving?"

"The fucking manager."

Her brows furrowed as she tried to recall who he was referring to. There was a woman that she remembered being mentioned in some of the articles and interviews she had seen while keeping track of her boy's activities. It had been the same girl throughout his high school time, summers, and till recently at his university. If she remembered correctly the woman had helped Youichi run his various football activities. "Are you talking about the Anezaki girl?"

His stiff silence confirmed more than anything that she had guessed correctly.

"Are you having a difficult time finding a replacement?"

"No."

"Is she transfering? Going to work with another team or something?"

This time he just shook his head, which worried her. He was never this quiet, this one word answer deal. Even as a child he was never this... this stony silence. He preferred underlying manipulation and blunt confrontation to the beating around the bush tactic. "Then what's wrong?"

"You remember when you used to tell me that I was a lot like the old man?"

"I- I did say that." Of course he had been a lot smaller, and a lot less intimidating at the time. But she did remember thinking that he was incredibly similar to his father when he was a child. If the old home movies and stories from her mother-in-law about her anata where to be believed, both men had quite the temper and tendency to get in and out of trouble.

"Am I still a lot like him?"

A strange turn in conversation but okay. This she thought long and hard about. True Youichi was much... rougher around the edges while his father had seemingly lost most of his. But still... "You're a lot like how he was when we first got married. Very determined, calculating, a one track mind at times but good intentions."

"Then there was a time when you thought about leaving." At this he looked her right in the eye, hands folded total attention on her.

She furrowed her brows at this. "I suppose but what does this have to do with the Anez-"

"What did he say to you?" Cutting her off before she could question him, he elaborated. "The old man said something, did something that stopped you. I need to know what it was, exactly what it was."

"Are you," She paused for a moment to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat. "Are you in love with this girl? Is that why you're here?"

His arms crossed across his chest and the way he had gone so very still told her all she needed to know.

"Does she know?"

It was only because she was paying so close attention that she noticed the way his shoulders tensed. And it was only because she was his mother that she understood the significance of that small, almost non existent gesture. "Oh Youichi." She let out a sigh and looked at him, really stopped and looked at him. When had her little boy grown into a man? A man with problems and responsibilities and worries. "A girl needs to know."

He didn't stay long after that, declining the offer of food and brushing off her attempts to get him to stay until his father returned. He did, however, grudgingly accept the hug she gave him and listened to her fretting about his cursing, firearms, and the fact that he apparently wasn't eating enough.

Soon she was once again left alone in her modest empty kitchen with a sink partially filled with cold water and dishes and the hope that this girl, this Anezaki would make him happy. That she was good enough for him and that maybe, just maybe, she would make Youichi come home for visits. Happy visits like a family dinner or to talk about school or to help plan their wedding. She really wasn't too picky about the details.

As long as she got to see her little boy (who was not so little any more).