Chapter 09 The Warrior
"Ow, shit!" Shota reached down, clutching his ankle as a dull throb beat against the skin. The never-healing bruise darkened again to a deeper shade of purple just on the curve of his ankle bone. A bruise atop a bruise. "Bloody hell…" He looked up to see his neighbor's granddaughter staring at him, all in her crustiness and sticky fingers that gripped the handlebar of her tricycle. "You almost made me spill my coffee, kid. Careful with that thing."
"Trash monster!" Sticking her tongue out, the little, curly-haired girl started peddling back to the other house where her grandmother was now standing, curious about the exchange.
Shota gave a dulled expression. "Or…not."
"Stupid-face trash monster!"
"Shota!" the neighbor called, causing him to groan. "Be careful with Sori!"
"Yes, Mrs. Shimizu."
"She's only two, you know!"
"I know, Mrs. Shimizu."
"Isn't she just an angel?"
"Uh-huh," Shota groaned, gathering the mail that he had dropped. "Just like Lucifer…"
"What was that, dear?!"
"Nothing. Have a good day. Bye." Shota went to hide in his house—he always disliked his snooping, noisy neighbors. When he got to the kitchen, he realized that Eri had not yet come to the table for breakfast. Sighing, he stalked out of the room and headed for the stairs.
He had woken her up before he went outside, so she should have been brushed and washed up and sitting at the table already. Or at least washing her face.
"El-Belle," he said, entering her dimly lit room. "Time to get up." His response was a drawn-out murmur from a heap of blankets and pillows and toys. Opening the blinds a tad to let fresh sunlight spill through in fragmentations, he came over and sat on the bed beside the small, groaning bump. "Wake up." He gently lifted the covers and warmth from his snoozing daughter, causing her eyebrows to scrunch down. "We have stuff to do. Quickly, now. Breakfast is ready."
"Nooo…" Eri moaned, sprawled carelessly on her face, when her father shook her a bit.
"Let's go." His only answer was another groan of defiance. "Ellie-Bellie." Eri groaned, sitting up with eyes closed, only to then flop back down on her face. "Get up." Shota nudged her.
"Nooo, Daddy. Leave me alone…"
"Leave you alone?"
"Mm-hm…"
"Don't make me tickle you."
"Nooooo…" This time, with a sleepy smile pinching her cheeks, she weakly pushed at her father's wide hands.
"You think that's gonna stop me?" Shota teased, poking her rib and causing her to jerk away and hug herself into a ball. "Daddy said get up, so you…"—he tickled her sides furiously—"get up." Eri exploded in laughter, rolling, kicking, thrashing around in the bedsheets, making a mess of her own hair and toys. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, residual laughter fading away as her father kissed her nose. "Go brush your teeth and wash up."
"Okay," Eri said, hopping off the mattress.
"Don't forget to make your bed," Shota reminded, catching her when she tried to run off. "Remember how I showed you?" Eri nodded and quickly tucked the blankets under the mattress—it was sloppy and lumpy in the middle, but good enough for a five-year-old with minimal maintenance experience. Then, she darted out the door, causing her father to dodge her, holding his coffee high as to not risk spilling it on her head. "Slow down, please."
Eri chirped back, "Sorry!"
Shota sighed and slugged his way to the kitchen, wondering to himself how the hell she was so energetic after being so stubborn. With a fixed gaze on the scrambled egg and coin-cut sausage scramble that he had left on low-flame, a gaze almost too blank for someone attending to a stove, he sipped his coffee with one hand and deftly turned over the forming wads of yellow with chopsticks in the other hand. Placing the mug down, he stalked to the fridge for chicken broth, then to the seasoning cabinet for salt, pepper, and garlic, ginger, and onion powder, and then to the pantry for sesame oil. In minutes to come, he was serving the scramble alongside the scallion pancakes he had made earlier in the morning, setting the respective bowl and plate at the center of his table, complemented by two small cups of rice and two pairs of chopsticks. "Eri!"
"Coming!"
He went back to the sink to meticulously wash the reasonably-sized pan with a weathered sponge, the occupant steam rising and brushing against his sagging, yet calm eyes. The warm water calmed his nerves against the cold morning air, but he knew they would only return once he had Eri loaded in the car. Tiny footsteps trotting down the stairs from the loft area snapped him out of his short trance, so he racked the pan, dried his hands, and went back to the cabinet for two more small bowls. "There she is," he said, without turning his back, ladling miso soup from a little pot on the stove into both bowls in one hand. Returning to the table where Eri kicked her feet, he placed one bowl before her and the other at his chair, sitting. "It's a tad bland this morning, but… Eat up, please."
Eri clapped her hands together at her father. "Itadakimasu!"
Following her lead, Shota responded with his usual drag, "Itadakimasu."
After they clacked chopsticks, as usual, the meal carried on in a comfortable quiet with Eri happily scarfing down the scramble and Shota leisurely stuffing a pancake into his mouth. Eri nearly spat out her food. "Daddy, you look like a chipmunk."
"So, do you, baby," he said through the food, casually wiping some egg from the corner of his daughter's mouth with his thumb. "Don't talk with your mouth full."
"But you're doing it," Eri teased, letting her father primp her.
"Mm." After swallowing the massive lump of food, he asked, "Hungry today, huh?" Eri nodded and hummed as he took in a mouthful of eggs. "That's good."
"Yeah," Eri swallowed, allowing her face to return to normal size. "I'm happy you're really hungry, too. You didn't eat a lot last night, and you love miso ramen."
"Maybe I just got sick of my own cooking…"
"But your food's always good. You wanted to be a chef before." By the confused, shocked look her father sent her way—how he fully opened his usually-halved eyes—she realized she just tattled on herself and dropped her wide eyes to her rice. "Uh-oh."
Shota's eyebrow cocked slowly, and he asked even slower, "How did you know that?" Eri's crimson irises slid to the right, staring at the steam rising from her soup bowl. "Did I tell you that or…? I don't remember that I did." In truth, he had not told anyone, save for Bakugo and his grandparents. Maybe even Mandalay back when they dated.
"I…" Eri said, slowly peeking up at him since he was not mad. Yet. "I saw something about it…" Shota dipped his chin, indicating that she should continue. "In a folder." His eyes squinted as his brows arched upwards, still not getting it. "In, um… In your office." His expression cleared all together, and her stomach dropped. "While we were napping."
"Eri, you know you're not supposed to go looking around my office."
"I woke up before you did, and I was bored, so…" She shrugged.
Shota narrowed his gaze on her. "There are weapons in there. You could have hurt yourself."
"But I didn't go looking around. I just went to your desk."
"Eri. That's not the point."
"Sorry… So, you were gonna be a chef?"
"That was the original plan."
"What happened?"
"I found a reason to be a hero. Then a teacher. Life happens like that, sometimes." Shota continued eating to cut off the topic, and soon, so did Eri. "I didn't forget that you went into my office without my permission, though." She winced, but he smoothed her hair to let her know that no long lecture or repercussions were coming. Well, there's another reason to move everything to my safe, I guess, he thought to himself, wondering why he had not done so sooner. "Don't do that again, okay? I keep sharp things in there."
"I won't," Eri vowed. "I wanted to see what was making you so unhappy at work 'cause I wanted to help."
Shota sighed. "Yeah, I understand. I've just got a load on my mind. That's all."
"Is it because of me? What I did at Sumi's house? Because I'm really sorry—"
"Easy, piglet," Shota said, calmly. "It's just adult stuff. My brats seem to enjoy stressing me out. But it's nothing for you to worry about."
"Oh. Okay." Eri drank her soup and then returned for a pancake, snatching it with her hand.
"Eri," Shota snapped in the form of a deadpan. "Hands in the food are a no-no."
"Sorry." Eri bit into the cake, holding it in her teeth while wiping her fingers on her clothes, much to her father's elevated horror. But after a while, Shota just chuckled and shook his head, continuing to eat and taking a mental note to work on table manners some more with her. "Where are we going? School?"
"Uh, well…" Stuttering aside, Shota's tongue froze, unable to decide which words would be right in the moment. Naturally, he wanted to give it to her straight. But considering her past, he was unsure if this would backfire in the form of a tantrum or tortured silence and an unwanted round of hide-and-seek. In the months since he devoted himself to parenthood and built an affectionate relationship with his daughter, they had nursed a strong bond of loving trust in those slow, quiet mornings; playful, racing afternoons; and gentle, reassuring nights. As someone who rarely trusted, he knew it was a delicate thing. It was a wonder Eri had gotten so attached to him, considering her abuse had been by a man roughly about his age and stature. He could only hope that it would last, but if it did not, if Eri came to prefer others over him following the events of today, so be it. As long as she was happy and safe and loved, what more could a parent ask for?
"Daddy?" Eri's short eyebrows lifted. "What's wrong?"
Not usually one to express openly, Shota shook his head. "Nothing. Just…my tongue froze up."
"Daddy." He looked at her, and she raised her eyebrows in a manner in which he often did whenever he urged her to talk about some unspoken thing that bothered her. In her time under her father's care and roof, she did remember how still and flat his face and tone used to be, and she did remember how, as time went on with them being a family, he allowed himself express worry, or simply laugh or even just smile (and after that one night, cry). So, whenever her father returned to his old stoic ways, she knew something was off. She knew he was trying to hide something. "Your eyes look funny again."
Shota chuckled. "You're good, piglet." As he had finished his meal, due to an appetite fueled by concern, stress, and nervousness, he gingerly placed his chopsticks down on the napkin. "Uh… Okay. I'll just say it. You have a doctor's appointment today." Eri's gaze went to her arms that now sported healing scars, thanks to the nightly aloe vera gel and youthful skin. Shota's stomach dropped, hoping she would not panic, but he continued, "It'll be okay."
"I'm gonna have shots?"
"I'm sorry, but yes."
"I don't like needles."
"I know."
"Or doctors." Eri fidgeted with a lock of hair, twirling it around her fingers. Glancing up at her father after a little pause, she chanced, "If I don't go, you won't have to use money."
Shota's eyes squinted a tad, and she shot her eyes back down to her plate. "Eri," he leveled, "this is important. If you're healthy at the end of the day, it's money well spent. Okay?" Eri knew her father enough by now to point out when he was downplaying a bad situation. But she knew him enough, too, to understand how stubborn he could be. So, peeking at the additional bags under his eyes, she nodded obediently. "You let me worry about money. Everything's fine." Shota pushed some hair behind Eri's ear. "I don't want you to get sick, and I know you don't want that either. It sucks, but we can get through it, huh?"
Eri's eyes widened, listening. She took a considering moment, pushing down memories of experimentation and feelings of dread to make way for memories of Daddy, Mirio, and Deku and some of the other 1-As and the love and support they all gave her. Despite her age, she knew she had a responsibility, too—to be strong and prevent her father from worrying, which she knew would not be particularly easy with how meticulous he was. "Yeah," she said, looking down.
Shota kissed her head. "That's my girl. Go upstairs and get your stuff. We're leaving in five."
"Okay," Eri said, defeated, but trusting that her father and the fact that he knew best. She hopped down from the chair as Shota gathered the dishes. "Gochisosama deshita, Daddy."
"Oss." Shota turned on the faucet and began washing. "Don't forget to feed your fish, too."
"I won't."
##
"Hang on," Shota instructed his daughter, locking his car before shoving the keys in his pocket. Eri tiptoed along the cement lining of a planter in the hospital parking lot, arms stretched out to maintain balance. Looking both ways of the small intersection of in-and-out cars, Shota outstretched his hand to Eri. He looked down at her after seconds of a non-reaction caught his attention. "Eri, grab Daddy's hand."
Eri lifted her eyes to him cautiously, then looked back down at his hand. Crinkling her face together and hiding her hands behind her, she made a small noise that could suffice as defiance, but with what had happened the previous afternoon, Shota already knew she was distrustful of her Quirk. So, he simply put his hand on her shoulder and led her across the street with him. "It smells funny in there," she said when the automatic doors slid open, hugging her toy. "Like soap."
"That's a good sign," Shota joked, pressing a button for the elevator. "Means the doctors don't have cooties."
Hearing this, Eri nodded in agreement and smiled. "Do you have cooties, Daddy?"
Rummaging through his pockets to make sure he had his wallet, the keys, and his phone, Shota gasped as if something just occurred to him. "I'm not sure. I should have the doctor check that for me, don't you think?"
"Uh-huh!"
"Good thing you reminded me." He bent over and pecked a kiss to her head, causing her to giggle.
"Now I have it, too!" Eri cried.
Shota chuckled. "Misery loves company, love." An elderly lady had watched the exchange and smiled when he finally noticed her, and blushed because of it. The elevator opened, and he nodded respectfully at her. Dr. Kimura's office appeared to have a terrible case of jungle influenza or some other forestry implosion—whatever the difference, Shota was not sure—but the paintings of smiling panthers and gorillas were enough to keep Eri entertained enough as he signed in at the receptionist's desk, dubbed Bear's Cave and complemented with a flurry of stuffed bears. "That's…curious," Shota muttered to himself. "Eri, why don't you sit down over there? Wait for me?"
"Okay." Eri hugged her stuffed tiger toy to her chest and took the nearest beanbag chair. She traced the round ears of the panther with her finger, kicking her feet against the green bean-bag chair. In her mind, pure wonder beyond that of any other young child overtook her. She had never seen most of these animals, even in pictures or paintings. She had no idea what that tall four-legged one was, with its gold and brown pattern and long snout. It almost looked like a horse, she thought. The clatter of beans under Shota's weight as he flopped down on the blue beanbag beside her gave her a short scare. She looked at her exhausted-looking father, watching how he rubbed his neck a bit. "Daddy?" He looked at her, squinting through the redness of his eyes. "What's this thing?"
Shota followed his daughter's eyes. "That's a giraffe, El-Belle."
"A ger— Huh?"
"A giraffe."
"A giraffe. Oh." Her father hummed in agreement, eyes glued to the papers. It was an odd name for something that resembled a horse. Eri kicked her feet harder as if the new knowledge was trying to escape her small body. "Why is his neck like that? Does it hurt him?"
"Uh… Well, he eats leaves in trees. Tall trees." Shota reached over and gently placed his hand on Eri's leg, staying it to the cushion. "Sit still, please."
"How does he sleep?" Eri asked. "His neck's like that, so is it really hard for him to sleep?"
A nurse dressed in teal scrubs came out of a door called Frog's Pond. "Eri Aizawa?"
Shota stood. "I'll show you at home." Again, though, when he reached his hand out to her, she refused to comply and hid her hands in her underarms, breaking eye contact with a short pout. She buried her face in her tiger's side. So, again, Shota led her by the small of her back, muttering, "It'll be okay."
In truth, Eri wanted to grasp her father's warm hand and squeeze it until they were safely home. She knew the needles were coming for her, but she had to make sure her father would be there to run to, firstly. But he could not help her if she sent him into non-existence.
"In here, please." The nurse led the two to a small room with a weight scale, a stadiometer, and a blood pressure monitor with a small cuff. Beside the last item was a single chair. Shota nudged Eri to go in with the nurse while he stood close by at the door frame. "Can you give me one of your arms, honey?" the nurse asked, sweeter than before. Eri shyly lifted herself in the chair, but hearing this, she looked to her father pleadingly.
Shota came in and knelt down in front of her, helping with the zipper. "No needles yet. She's just trying to see about your heart pumps blood to your body. Just a squeeze."
"Okay." Eri lifted her arm out of the jacket, instantly chilled by the air. When he moved, she insisted, "Daddy," and he knelt back down, moving aside as to not be in the way. The nurse wrapped and secured the cuff around her tiny arm, pressed a button on the machine. She then proceeded to hold a thermometer to Eri's lips. "Open up, please." Eri did as told. "And close." A moment of quiet: the nurse said, "98.0."
Eri looked to her father. "Body temperature," he said. She nodded slowly, still having no idea what that meant. Her arm was squeezing so much that it started beating, but not painfully. Something in her face changed that prompted her father to say, "It's okay, baby."
After a while, the nurse said, "101/63. Good. Can you stand over by the ruler for me?" Eri obeyed, and the nurse readjusted her against the wall. Soon, something flat and thin touched her head and she lifted herself on her toes to push it back up.
"Eri, stay still, please," Shota said, directly. Hearing his tone, Eri slouched on the flats of her feet, giving a short, juvenile pout with it.
The nurse chuckled. "She's cute."
"Don't tell her that," he joked.
The nurse redid the plate, touching it lightly to Eri's head. "Three-four." She scribbled down the notes thus far on her clipboard. "Now over here on this thingy." Eri hopped on the scale and watched the numbers jumble. "Twenty-eight pounds. A little on the lighter side, Dad."
"Noted," Shota said as she scribbled down more notes.
"All right, follow me." Draping the jacket back around Eri's shoulders, realizing she was quite cold, Shota led her down the hall behind the nurse. "Here, please. Room three. Dr. Kimura will be in shortly."
"Thanks." Shota lifted Eri on the paper-shielded table. "Okay so far?"
"Yeah," Eri said as her father sat in the chair beside the table. "It didn't hurt."
"Good." Honestly, Shota was unsure what was to come. Deducing that it would be hell in the form of a sobbing five-year-old once the injections were brought in, he knew he would probably have to hold Eri down. But despite however else she felt about him after today, he knew he had to be there for her, regardless, as her father. All he knew for sure, though, was that the look in her eye was going to be a stubborn image in his mind thereafter. He was not the one kicking his legs in pending doom, but he too was encroached thoroughly in his own form of trepidation, squeezing his hands together in his lap. Before he knew it, Dr. Kimura had entered and was greeting Eri. Standing, Shota shook his hand.
"So," the middle-aged doctor said, a file in his hand. "Everything looks great. Weight is a little lower, but nothing scary. Height, too. B.P., good." He got out a pen and looked to Shota. "Tell me about Ms. Eri's diet. How many meals and snacks a day?"
"Three meals a day, two or three snacks, just depending on how hungry she is," Shota said, feeling as though the doctor would ring his neck at any given moment. But it would be most rational to be truthful and have whatever needed correcting corrected. "She's a picky-eater, too."
The doctor chuckled. "I see. That's normal, as her previous tests all came out good. Portion sizes for big meals?"
"I try to make the biggest portion on her plate protein, then vegetables, and then whatever else I cook up. But I will admit to giving her sugary stuff, too, but during the day only.
"That's what childhood is all about," Dr. Kimura said, breaking a smile as he wrote down some more notes. "How is her digestion? Regular?"
"Yes."
"Good. You keep track?"
"Mentally, yes."
Eri kicked her feet gently, as to not disrupt the adult conversation, wondering what a 'digestion' was, but not giving it much more thought than that. Turning her attention to the pamphlets of smiling children and their parents followed by an equally cheerful doctor. She did not understand what it was that made the appointment so fun for them, but she wished that same energy would be transferred to hers—though she wondered if Daddy's face could stretch that wide. Dr. Kimura took a seat on a rolling stool and slid over to Eri. "Hello, there."
"Hi," she said.
"Your daddy told me you have nightmares sometimes," said the doctor. "Are you able to go back to sleep after he helps you calm down?"
Eri looked at her father, who quietly watched her. "Yeah. I just go to his bed and he sings to me until I fell asleep."
Dr. Kimura smiled. "That's very sweet. Afterwards, does the nightmare still scare you in the morning?"
Eri shook her head, unsure where he was going with this. "I don't remember it, really. I just wake up really scared."
"So, it's just a nighttime thing?" She nodded. "Okay. That's a good sign." The second part he said to Shota. "Well, considering her traumatic history, I'd say Eri's developing well. Unfortunately, though, if we were to put her in comparison with other five-year-olds, she would be a little behind."
"I understand," Shota said.
Dr. Kimura raised his eyebrows as he said, "But she can go to the bathroom on her own, speak in full sentences and understand house rules, feed herself with utensils… So, I'd say to keep up the good work, Dad. And Ms. Eri, you're doing great." He winked at her through his gray eyelashes.
"Thank you," Eri said.
"If I may ask," the doctor continued. "What do you do, sir?"
"I'm a high school teacher."
"Ah," the doctor said. "I can see where your schedule may be tight."
"It's a tad crammed. But my school is generous enough to let me bring Eri along on the days that she is off school," Shota explained. "But when she is in school, she's out by the time I'm on lunch break. Luckily, things work out."
"Good." Dr. Kimura cleared his throat, squinting at the other adult. "I asked that also because…excuse me, but you look familiar, somehow. Do I know you from somewhere?"
"Can't imagine so."
"Maybe it's the accent… I have many patients from out west. Shikoku. I apologize," Dr. Kimura continued. Shota shrugged. "Now, back to Ms. Eri, we'll need to do go through immunizations. Right now, since the previous hospital gave her Hep A and B, IPV, Hib, and MMR; so, we'll move forward with her first dose of DTaP, varicella, PCV, and her second dose of Hep A."
"So…four?" Shota asked, cocking an eyebrow at the foreign acronyms. "Right?"
The doctor nodded simply. "We'll also need to get a blood and urine sample, too. And by law, I have to offer you the choice of giving her a flu shot."
From personal experience, Shota automatically wished to decline—he had never had a flu shot until high school following his diagnosis with an autoimmune disease, and days after, he fell ill with pneumonia and a raging fever—but he still thought about it. "I'll think about it," he said. He chanced a glance at his daughter's worried face and immediately thought of Overhaul's experimentation. "Maybe not right now."
"Sure—"
"But what about me?" When the doctor pulled a confused face, Shota gave him an intense look and nodded subtly to his pink-faced daughter, tears threatening her eyes already. He gestured for the doctor's clipboard, not that Eri really noticed, and wrote, as if they were passing notes in class: However many she's getting. Just the needles. Don't waste anything else on me.
"Yes," Dr. Kimura accepted, after reading the message. He scribbled on the same sticky note and handed it back to Shota, who shoved it in his pocket. "Mr. Aizawa, it appears you are also due for immunizations as well." Eri had heard that, and looked up at her father.
Shota cocked his head to the side. "You don't say."
"You also have four."
"It can't be helped. All right, then."
"In that case, it was very nice to meet you both. I'll call for the nurse." The doctor shook Shota's hand and then Eri's, who then signaled for her father to come sit on the table with her, which he did.
"Thank you," Shota said to the doctor. He turned to Eri, sitting. "Yes, baby—"
"Daddy, I don't want four." Eri nuzzled herself into her father's chest, hiding, as the doctor left the room. "It's gonna hurt."
"It'll be okay." Shota gathered her in his arms. "No one likes getting shots. But they help you stay healthy." He thought about her school enrollment, then—as long as Eri was immunized within the next month, she would be eligible for attendance. "Daddy's getting his, too,"
"You are? But how come he didn't make you stand on the thing, too?" Eri asked. "Is it because you weigh too much?"
Hearing this, Shota chuckled. "Yeah," he said. "Probably. But I heard there's a terrible case of grown-up cooties going around. I like to be healthy."
"Oh."
"But more importantly, I'd like you to be healthy, too."
"But—" The door clicked, and Eri jerked her head towards it with eyes wide and a face as pale as the bland wallpaper.
"It's okay," Shota immediately said to his daughter when the nurse came in with a tray full of needles, Band-Aids, and sanitizing pads. "Hey. Look at me." Eri's wideset eyes darted to his and she gripped his hand with her fumbling, damp ones. "It'll be okay. You can do this."
"No, I can't…!" She inched even closer into her father's body. "I wanna go home."
"Sweetheart—"
"I wanna go home!" Eri burst into tears, clinging onto her father's sleeve.
"I'll be right here. It's gonna be fine."
"No! Daddy, please don't make me!"
"—Eri, sh…" Shota placed his hand over his daughter's, gazing upon her with patient, calm eyes. He glanced at the nurse, who returned with a sympathetic grin. He turned back to his daughter with the same gentle, yet stern gaze. "There are other kids here, too, who are also scared. Remember your manners—inside voice, please. Okay?"
Eri, less insistent on her grip on her father, nodded in understanding. "But I'm too scared."
Shota removed her from his lap and placed her on the table beside him. "Okay, then. I'll go first, and you can see."
"But then you're gonna be sad, too."
"Uh," Shota said, thinking. The nurse came over to his side, catching on, and rolled up his sleeve to clean his shoulder with an alcohol pad. "Well, how about we make it a challenge?" Eri tilted her head. "If one of us cries, we'll have ice cream and cookies after dinner. And if not, you get to stay up with me a little later tonight." Shota held out his arm to her. "Deal?"
"Deal," Eri agreed, immediately hooking her arm at the elbow with his. Either way, something good was coming.
The nurse cleaned Shota's arm. "Such a dutiful dad."
Shota looked at her. "Oh, thank you." In a lower tone, he admitted to her, "This is all on the fly." That, along with his intriguing accent and surprisingly stunning features beneath the usual mess of him, made her smile and gaze at him for a moment longer.
Eri moved closer to him, clutching his hand. The nurse plucked up the first needle—had Eri looked closer at it, she would have seen that the syringe was empty. Pinching what she could from Shota's muscular shoulder, the nurse warned him, "Just a small pinch."
Calming his own heart, knowing he was being stared at, Shota nonchalantly said, "No problem." When the small sting came, Shota remained still. Eri watched him, and though there was no sign of fear in his expression, his free hand was squeezed into a fist and something in his neck pulled. He noticed her by the third needle, and said, "See? It's not so bad."
Eri slowly nodded, though she considered the rock-hardness of her father's arms and deduced that that was the culprit. He had too much muscle to even feel anything. Surveying her own scrawny arm, feeling how empty and fragile it seemed, she was unsure if she could handle it.
Shota watched her, having no idea what she was doing. "You good?"
"No," Eri admitted.
"All right, Dad." The nurse smiled, placing a Band-Aid over the site. "You're done!"
"Thanks," Shota said.
The nurse disposed of the used needles and returned to the next tray, stacking alcohol pads on them. "All right, cutie." Hearing this, said cutie cowered, tugging her arms into herself, desperate for her father's arms, but too afraid she might Rewind him.
"Here," Shota said, offering her his hand. "Just squeeze my hand."
Eri automatically shook her head.
"Hey. It's okay."
"Cancel me and I will."
"I'm not going to do that. There's nothing to worry about."
"You don't know that!"
"Eri, take it easy."
"You don't know that, Daddy!" Eri cupped her hands to her ears, squeezing her eyes shut. "You don't!"
"El," Shota said, calmly. "Sit still. It hurts more when you move around." Eri shook her head defiantly. "Eri—" She shook her head again, more tears spilling from her eyes. The nurse tried again to catch the girl off guard, but failed. "Come here," her father said. "You're going to hurt yourself. Let the nurse help you."
Eri slowly climbed into his lap, thinking they were going to leave or that the nurse would leave. But she realized quite rapidly that she was wrong; her father's hands crossed hers on her lap, but held them as to provide comfort in the restraint. "Daddy, no…!"
"Look at me," Shota instructed. "Just look at me. Okay?" Eri looked at him as told for an instant before resuming her wriggling, making labored noises along the way. "Sit still, please, and look at Daddy." Before she turned back to him, Shota nodded at the nurse to come try again while he had his daughter engaged. "Thank you. Listen to me: I don't like holding you down like this." In his peripheral, he could see the nurse readying the needle. He tightened his already-stern hold on her arms. "It makes me sad."
"It does?" Eri asked as her father smoothed a strand of her hair from her face.
Shota nodded. "Mm-hm. So sad that I want to fall on the floor and throw a tantrum like you did the other day before bed." First needle done. "Remember that?"
Eri laughed a little. "You were so mad at me."
"I was. But can I tell you a secret?"
"Yeah!"
"I thought it was pretty funny." Shota smiled; the second needle left his daughter's arm. His thumb rubbed over the small flat of her hand as he spoke, "But I especially liked telling you the bedtime story afterwards. Which one was that, again?"
"It was the one about the girl and the stars—" Eri froze, finally seeing the third syringe coming. She whimpered and scrambled into her father's body again. "Daddy!"
"I'm here. But you have to sit still." Shota readjusted her, hugging her, but leaving her arm exposed for the nurse. As she now sobbed, he had to rationalize that she needed this; as much as she cried and fought, her health came first. "Sh, baby. It's okay. Almost done." The nurse took that as her cue to try a second time. When Eri felt the gloved hand around her elbow, she resisted, shot back her arm, grabbed her father's hand, clenched her fist so hard that crescents decorated her father's hand. "It's okay," Shota said, successfully pinning his daughter's limps to her body. "It's okay that you're scared. But if you move, it only gets scarier."
"Okay," Eri agreed. "I won't move. I won't move." The third needle slipped in with only a short, tearful gasp and a deeper indent of her nails in her father's skin. Eri bite her lip the whole time, willing back a scream as she clung to Shota.
Shota watched her, though she kept her eyes down as if focused. She did not scream or fight the fourth needle, sure—but she was not happy. The fourth and final needle came with only one irritated, but sluggish jerk with Shota holding her arm to her body. "Good job, piglet," he complimented afterwards. "See? You did it."
But she was having none of it.
Though, Shota knew their relationship was too strong and well-maintained to be washed away by a doctor's visit, he suspected the scars from her previous life might rise…and that maybe, naturally, she would look to him for the source of the memory pains. But he was not going to give up and give her up that easily.
After dinner, at Eri's favorite pho shop, they walked. And they walked, window-shopped, Shota talked, and they got ice cream. Eri's ice cream fiasco was taller than her own head.
By the time the two made it back to 6th Street, Eri's scowl and watery eyes never faltered; if anything, her lip started to tremble, and her father caught it, despite her attempt to hide such displeasure under the pink wool scarf.
"All right. You want to hit me?" Shota suggested, causing her to pull a face of perplexity. "Come on. Would that make you feel better? I can understand why you might want to." He knelt down before his daughter, watching her watch him. "Only this once. Understand?" He tapped his cheek with his finger. "Get it out of your system."
Eri stared at him, blinking in confusion and tilted her head. Sure, she had been upset with him for the majority of the day into the evening. She definitely did not appreciate being held down while the nurse pricked her. But…to strike her own father, the very man who had been patient, empathetic, and kind enough to her to even change himself to provide a more carefree life for her. With chip-painted fingernails—lavender, like Rapunzel's dress—she instead took gentle hold of her father's wavy layers that hung by his cheeks and kissed the broad scar under his eye, which shocked him enough to change his expression from stoicism to stupefaction. "I love you, Daddy."
Shota swore as he smiled softly at Eri that she was never the one he saw coming, if anyone at all. But he knew she was only one he could imagine returning to him, the one who would mean it when she said that she wanted to be with him, flaws and all. When she had said that she loved him, every time he believed her. Never before had he known someone that made him race around town for a specific toy, clean up his mostly monotonous life, and yet, even after driving him crazy, could still make him wish to live the day all over again.
But he found her. "I love you, too." Under the warm light of the lamppost, he kept smiling from the affection of Eri's kiss on his winter-bitten cheek.
"What did the doctor give you?" Eri asked, perking up in her usual way.
Shota was surprised she remembered. "Oh," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling the folded yellow note out. "Uh…"
You're a great dad, Eraserhead.
He shook his head. "It's just, uh… The doctor's shopping list."
R&R!
