A Basketball
A follow up to Baby Fat. Don't need to read it, but I recommend it.
Published (just barely) on Michiru's birthday, happy birthday Michiru!
Shirou holds a bottle of liquor in one hand, laying on the pull-out sofa in his living room that sometimes makes-do as his bed. The sun blasts through the room's large windows, basking him in light.
His arm flips the bottle over, he watches as nothing but drops trickle out.
She drank the whole bottle, he accepts.
Stupid Tanuki, he deems.
Shirou cocks his head over to the side, gazing at the giggling mess laying on the carpet.
Michiru lazily claws at the air, drunkenly purring to herself. She's clearly amused by her new-found ability. "Meeaaaaaowwwwww… Hehehee."
Facing back up, he scrunches his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. As much as a part of him wants to lock her in a room again with all sharp edges sanded-off, he knew how Rose (or god-forbid, Nazuna) would take to that.
Besides, she would probably just bust the door-down with gorilla arms, yet another one of her messes to clean-up. Or she could pitch her meows incessantly higher until he gives-in and lets her free, Shirou would claw out his eardrums if he knew they wouldn't grow back.
If he were a lucky Beastman, this impromptu child of his would just stare a wall for 5 hours straight, or sleep like a rock throughout most of the day. But no, she just had to go smashing into everything in sight and saying the darndest of things. It's a miracle she even made it to Anima City in one piece.
Well, it could be worse right now. She could have the zoomies.
Shirou gets off the couch and onto his feet. Preparing himself to scold her, he glances down at Michiru. Her face is covered in bandages, hastily applied after she familiarised herself with the floor of their living room the other day. Despite this, she radiates the most joyful (and inebriated) of smiles.
A now all too familiar warm feeling rises in his chest, but he easily fights it back, he's not going-down that easy (just yet.)
"Michiru, that was reckless." Shirou starts the interrogation.
Her laughter stops, eyes innocently locking with his.
"You should've just taken painkillers." He simply states.
Her feigned innocence shatters when she argues back. "But I'm old enough to drink!"
"But the whole bottle?"
"You said I could do what I want!"
He did say she could do what she wants.
I did say she could do what she wants.
"Yes, but that doesn't absolve you of the consequences of your actions!" He says, to reassure his own words more than anything.
"It's your f-fault, you should've put it somewhere I couldn't reach!"
Shirou ignores her attempt to shirk responsibility and instead reminds her, "you have stretchy arms Michiru, you could reach anywhere you want…"
"Oh, right…" She shuffles awkwardly at her lapse in logic (one of many.)
"Don't you want to be something when you grow-up?" Shirou asks.
"A basketball." Michiru responds, casually.
If Shirou was expecting a reasonable answer out an intoxicated racoon-girl, then that was his first mistake. The ruffs of his hair just about twitch.
"What?"
"A basketball!" Michiru affirms, louder.
Shirou looks down upon the poor creature sitting in front of him, utterly dejected.
"You mean like… A player, right?"
"NO!" Michiru petulantly insists, slamming her hands back and forth on the floor. "I want to be a basketball!"
Shirou stares up at the ceiling, not seeing the irony of praying to a god for help in his head that very moment.
Why do I even try?
He sighs.
"Alright, fine."
He lowers his eyes back down, witnessing the tanuki-girl hunched over, arms collapsed against the floor. She perks up, exchanging a soft gaze with Shirou.
Don't look at me like that… He pleads internally.
Barely realising what he's doing, Shirou squats down to place a hand on her head, his eyes closed the whole time.
"You can be a basketball all you want, Michiru."
He gently ruffles her hair, a loose tuft dancing around his hand. A mushy coo escapes her lips.
"But…" Shirou stands back up.
Michiru tenses up, peeping worriedly at Shirou.
"As long as you're in my house, I have to make sure you're safe." He walks out of the room, seemingly disappearing. Michiru is puzzled.
He quickly returns with two pillows locked and loaded under his arms; hands armed with duct tape.
Realising his dastardly plan, Michiru laughs in protest. "N-no!"
"This is to stop you from hurting yourself." He begins advancing towards his target.
"I don't hurt myself!" She leaps to her feet.
"You nearly slammed into the doorway two hours ago…" He says, throwing a slightly jaded glance.
Michiru thinks for a moment. "Well…"
Shirou pauses.
"Try and stop me!" She suddenly beams at him before launching off, making her getaway.
Shirou gives chase around the house as best he can with his arsenal of padding equipment, lightly as possible to make sure she doesn't try any drastic movements.
"Don't run away from your father!" Shirou finally exclaims, failing to hide a growing smirk.
"I'm- not a pup- anymore!" Michiru sings along.
For Shirou, the rest of the day is filled with laughter and light, even into the night.